Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Five Weeks Later…

“Where on earth are you taking me?”

Eleanor could not see, not because she was not wearing her spectacles, but due to the cloth that was covering her eyes. She clung to her husband for dear life as she stumbled on the uneven ground, a giggle escaping her lips as she tried to push down her anticipation.

“You need to be more patient,” he told her, almost scoldingly.

She did not wish to be patient, but there was a bubbling of excitement in her throat as she followed him down what she was sure was a stone path. Eleanor could hear the soft sound of the ocean, but that in itself was not surprising, as the house they were staying at was near the shores of Brighton.

Eleanor felt the wind against her cheeks, tugging playfully at her hair and dress. She could smell the ocean and hear the distant call of seagulls in the air. She truly did not know what he was planning, but he had been most secretive throughout the morning and early afternoon.

He steadied her, holding her shoulders as he took a deep breath. Eleanor leaned into his touch as he began to work on loosening the makeshift blindfold, until it fell around her neck.

Her eyes adjusted slowly, and she blinked behind the glass lenses as the ocean came into view. Rolling waves that appeared a shade of navy in the light, with caps of white that curled onto themselves. Eleanor stared at the scene before her, taking it in for a moment, but then her gaze lowered.

There, resting on the small stony beach, was a picnic laid out and waiting for them. On the blanket, there was a book lying beside a bottle of wine.

Eleanor looked back at Dorian, smiling, her heart swelling in her chest. It was a small gesture, one of the many that he had made, and she appreciated it.

Their honeymoon would soon come to an end, and she wanted nothing more than to soak in the moments while she still could. Eleanor made for the blanket, the wind ruffling her gown gently. As she sat, she looked back up at Dorian.

His eyes more often than not were on her, as if he were afraid she would disappear any moment. Eleanor found she did not mind this. There was something in that look, something in the way he stared that warmed her to the core.

He sat beside her and then finally turned his gaze to the sea.

“I wish we could stay here forever.” She sighed, following his gaze.

“We could,” he said. “If we abandon all our other responsibilities.”

Eleanor closed her eyes, inhaling the salty air. She breathed better here, as if the ocean somehow soothed her in a way she did now know possible. “You could fish. I could be a fisherman’s wife.”

“Unfortunately, you are stuck as the wife of the Mad Duke.” Dorian chuckled as he shifted, raising a knee and then propping his elbow on it. He looked more at peace here as well, as if the sea washed away some of his worries and duties.

Eleanor took in his windswept, disheveled appearance and sighed. His hair was tousled by the breeze. The strands of dark hair seemed almost auburn in the sunlight, and he wore the most relaxed expression on his face. She was completely caught off guard by just how handsome he was.

“Read your book and stop staring, Eleanor,” he said, his eyes closed.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “And if I do not? Will you punish me?”

“I will, though I cannot be sure who would enjoy it more.”

Eleanor, sensing the promise and the challenge, leaned closer to him. She peered up at him, watching as he shifted his gaze to meet her own. He then glanced behind them, checking to ensure that they were completely alone.

Satisfied, Dorian reached over, caressing her cheek as his thumb brushed against her lips. Eleanor instinctively kissed his thumb. She couldn’t help but squirm, wanting nothing more than to feel him.

Since their arrival, they had made love countless times, stealing the moment when they could, neither able to keep their hands to themselves. And Eleanor was sure that she would always want him, as if her very soul was bound to his, and the intimacy only seemed to deepen that sensation and feeling.

“Dorian,” she pleaded.

He smiled at her wickedly. “What if I were to deny you?”

“Are you denying me?”

At that, his lips crashed into hers, and she melted against him. She could feel the flush rising to her cheeks and neck. Her heart pounded in her chest as her body ached for him.

Eleanor reached up, running her hands through his hair as the kiss deepened.

“I could never. I will always oblige, my Duchess,” he growled as hastily unbuttoned his trousers and adjusted himself.

He pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him on the blanket. Her gown was raised around her hips, and her skin was pressed against his in the most delicious way. Eleanor couldn’t help but groan at the feel of his length against her wetness.

Adjusting herself over him, she moved her hips, feeling him at her entrance. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, until there was simply nowhere else to go. The feeling of pleasure was mixed with a small twinge of pain, but it was something she found herself enjoying.

Their hips bucked against each other, a rhythm that seemed to roll with the sound of the waves as they lapped at the rocky shoreline. Dorian broke their kiss only to trail hungry kisses down her neck and the swell of her breasts, which strained against her stays and the bodice of her dress.

Eleanor threw her head back, rocking her hips in a feverish pitch that left her crying out in pure ecstasy. She continued to move, noting how he followed her lead.

As the pressure between her hips grew, reaching the point where there was simply no room left, she could feel the curling sensation in her depths. Dorian was watching her reactions, his hips bucking beneath her, and his pace began to quicken.

Eleanor leaned forward, her forehead pressed against his as pleasure erupted through them both and their cries tangled into the breeze. Release left her feeling shattered, and she crumbled against him, her hands gripping his shirt in an attempt to steady herself.

She could feel his warm release inside her.

Dorian listened to the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore, the sound echoing in his ears like a lullaby. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun wash over him like a tender lover’s embrace. His heart was still racing as his thoughts and emotions collided in his mind.

His gaze drifted to Eleanor, who lay beside him on the blanket. Her eyes were fixed on the dancing waves. She was radiant, her skin flushed with a rosy hue that was a reminder of the passion they had shared moments ago.

She has bewitched me.

There was no other explanation for it. Eleanor had somehow cast a spell over him, one he was happy to be under. She was impossible to resist, impossible not to admire, and more often than not, he caught himself stealing glances her way. It could be the most simple of things, and yet he could not look away from her.

The previous days of their honeymoon passed like a blur, and yet each moment was one that he held onto tightly. He had truly wished they traveled farther away, somewhere warmer or somewhere completely foreign, but something told him his presence would be needed sooner rather than later.

He had barely thought of the Earl of Amsbury, and he was surprised to find that his mood did not turn sour. The earl had been charged with Eugene Crawford’s murder, and now Dorian could do nothing more than wait for justice to be served. He felt relieved, but more than anything, he wanted it all to be over, so he could focus his complete attention on the most important thing.

“Eleanor,” he said, his eyes locking on hers.

Dorian reached out, his fingers noticeably trembling but his touch gentle as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Eleanor leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a contented smile touched her lips.

She looks happy.

But was she? It was a small, nagging thought in the back of his mind. He himself knew he could not ask for more. Eleanor was his destiny. All roads would lead him to her, no matter the conditions.

“Is this what you want?” he asked softly, the words slipping past his lips before he could bite them back. They hung in the air between them.

Eleanor blinked, her expression shifting as she pulled back slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. “It’s a little too late to be asking such a thing,” she replied with an incredulous look.

“Forgive me, I… I just want to ensure you are content,” he said sincerely.

Eleanor cocked her head, her brow furrowed. “Dorian, I am in love with you. I am your wife. Please, do not speak of such madness again.”

The wind tugged at her hair, making rebellious strands flutter around her head. He could make out the fading blush in her cheeks and chest.

Eleanor raised her eyebrows in answer and in question, a small, crooked smile playing on her lips. The ocean suited her. The sounds, the sights, all seemed to blend into her features, as if she were meant to be sitting there on the shore.

His doubt was assuaged, and he smiled, relieved.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. “Should we buy an estate at the seaside?”

Eleanor’s eyes widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Why, yes. I believe we should.” She turned her attention back to the water, smiling. “A house near the ocean. But I fear I would never wish to leave it, and Dayton Hall would be sorely neglected.”

To hell with Dayton Hall.

Though, Dorian knew there was no avoiding it.

“Imagine, our children running along the shore, chasing the waves.”

Dorian’s heart swelled at the mention of children, a thought that he had not truly considered despite its inevitable nature. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but smile.

Yes, he could envision it clearly. “I can see it.”

Eleanor seemed lost in thought. “I should like to see the sea more.”

“There is only one thing I wish to see more of,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes before leaning over to kiss him. “You are mad.”

“And you are my madness,” he said with a hint of a smile.

The End?