Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Three months later

June

"Do I look okay?" I glance sideways at my husband.

A month ago, we'd moved into a gorgeous townhouse in Primrose Hill. It's the same area where Quentin and Nathan have their homes. As do Sinclair and Summer Sterling. It's nice to be surrounded by friends and family, and this place feels much more like home. As for my apartment I'd offered it to a charity that works with adoptive families, so they could rent it out to those most-in-need.

Without waiting for my husband's response, I turn toward my reflection in the mirror. The dress I'm wearing falls below my knees. Its sleeves flow down my arms to wrap around my wrists. The neckline is modest, the color dark pink. It sets off the flush on my cheeks and the deep rose lipstick I've painted across my mouth. I fuss with my hair, then turn and take in my silhouette. "I feel like I'm already showing. I can't be, can I?" I groan.

"You look perfect." My husband steps up and wraps his arm about my thickening waist.

Yes, I was on birth control. But apparently, that was no match for my husband's super sperm. I'd never tell him that because that would only go to his head. I have a sneaky suspicion I became pregnant that first night at the Cumbria home. Or it might have been the next night, or the night after that, or during the next few days, when we proceeded to christen every single surface in that house. And quite a few objects in that space were used, as well, in some interesting ways. Good thing, it's our place and no one else in the family is interested in using it. Because, I have to tell you, it wouldn't be hygienic for them to use that house after our activities. We were there for a week, and it was an amazing break. We returned reluctantly, and only because there were a spate of emergencies Knox was unable to manage remotely.

When I showed Knox the results of the pregnancy test a month ago, he turned so white, I was sure he'd faint. Then he'd whooped, and scooped me up, and proceeded to kiss me until I was breathless.

And since then, he hasn't let me out of his sight. I'd already decided to leave my job at Davenport industries by then, so becoming pregnant simply spurred me to accelerate my decision. I decided to join forces with my adoption search specialist and expand the services we could offer to both adopters and adoptees.

As Knox's wife, I have a monthly allowance from the Davenport family trust fund. Apparently, I'm a beneficiary because I married into the family. At first, it didn't feel right to accept it, until Knox pointed out I'm entitled to it, and I can use the money to further my own causes. Which is when I approached my adoption search specialist and asked if I could become a partner with her. Turns out, she was looking for someone to bring in fresh equity, and I'm that person.

We're formulating our roles and responsibilities, but it's so exciting. For the first time in my life, I have a sense that I'm building someone of my own. We're also building our own family.

Knox bends and presses his cheek against mine, "You look gorgeous."

"You're biased. "

"And rightly so. You make me feel like the luckiest man alive."

My heart flutters. My pussy melts. Pregnancy has only enhanced my sexual appetite, and Knox has no problem keeping up with me. Much to my disappointment, anything kinky is out.

He also refuses to let me do anything—not complaining about that. Which means, I get the full benefit of him loving me with his wicked tongue, and his clever fingers, and that very big, very thick, very active part of him which, even now, prods me above the curve of my butt.

"Hmm, someone's up."

"Someone hasn't gone down since the day I saw your beautiful face." He slides his hand around and flattens his palm over my belly. "And the thought of you growing big with my baby is the ultimate aphrodisiac."

I place my palm over his and lean back into his broad chest.

"You look like you're mine." He pulls me in close and tucks my head under his chin. "You're glowing, baby."

"I've never felt this happy." I look into his deep blue eyes in the mirror.

He's not that good at showing his emotions, but he hasn't shut me out since the day he told me he loves me. I sense he's learning to be more open and vulnerable with me, and while it doesn't come easily, I know he's trying his best.

"I've never felt this content." His azure gaze lights up with silver embers. His smile is tender, and his expression is soft. I'm not surprised. I've known all along that behind that strong, unemotional, unfeeling fa?ade he likes to project, he's someone who, perhaps, feels too deeply. Someone who cares too much. Someone who, once he admits his feelings, will do anything for the people he's chosen as his own. "I'm so incredibly lucky to have found you." I turn in his arms and tip up my chin.

"I thank the universe every day for bringing you into my life. I'm not religious, but you make me believe in a higher power. Surely, that's the only reason I met you. You make me a better man, baby." He cups my cheek.

"You make me believe in a better future. You make me believe that surviving everything I did, all that I saw as a Marine, which showed me the depths that the human race can fall to—All of it's worth it, because it led me to you. You make me believe in hope, and that is a priceless gift. You are my priceless gift. My future. Everything in my life has led me to this moment when I'm holding you in my arms, my wife. My role as your husband is the most important one in my life. And as the father of your child, I swear, I'll always put the two of you before myself. I'll lay down my life to protect both of you. I'll ensure you both never want for anything. Your security is my priority. Your happiness is my goal. Your needs are my primary concern. And if anything threatens that, I'll burn down the world if it affects you."

Tears trickle down my cheeks, and a look of horror filters into his eyes. "Baby, don't cry."

"Sorry, it's these pregnancy hormones." I sniff. "And your words were so beautiful, so heartfelt. I"—I shake my head—"I can't believe how lucky I am."

"I'm the one who's lucky." He lowers his head and brushes his lips over mine. "It's my job to make sure the two of you are always happy. You leave all the worrying to me, baby. You focus on yourself and our child."

"Oh, Knox." I rise up on my tiptoes, and he meets me halfway. He presses his lips to mine, and the kiss is tender, and heartfelt, and filled with love and passion and desire. With it, is this growing feeling of being cherished. This confidence that I am the center of his world. This trust that I, and our child, will always be safe with him. This conviction that I'm blessed. That my baby and I are both blessed that we're his.

He slides his big palms down my back to cup my behind. I fretted that I was piling on the pounds on my backside in the last month, thanks to the pregnancy, but he reassured me that he loves it, no matter what. He relished having more of me to hold. And when he squeezes my butt, a pulse of eager energy flutters through my veins.

My already sensitive nipples seem to turn into hard points of desire. And the delicious friction from pushing my breasts into his hard chest lights liquid fire in my veins. A moan wells up my throat.

His breathing grows choppy. I feel the thick column of his arousal stabbing into my stomach. "Jesus, baby, you're so sexy." He nibbles on my lower lip, and that fire turns into a tsunami of desire.

"Knox," I groan.

"I know, baby." He whispers tiny kisses up my cheek to the corner of my eye, then kisses the tip of my nose. "I want to carry you off to bed and make sweet love to you all night long. "

"Do it." I dig my fingers into his strong, muscle-bound forearms. "Please, Sir. Please."

It's his turn to groan, "Hearing you beg turns my world upside down. It makes me forget everything but being buried inside you."

"And I want you in me. I want you on top of me. I want to be crushed under your weight. I want to be surrounded by you, wallowing in your scent." I laugh a little. "Did I just say that?"

He quirks a smile. "You did, and it fucking turns me on. I?—"

There's a knock on the door, "Knox? June? You guys ready? Everyone's here and waiting for you." It's Zoey.

In honor of my pregnancy-cum-housewarming, Arthur agreed to shift the venue of the weekly family and friend's lunch to our place this Sunday. It seemed like a promising idea, especially as it gave me the perfect excuse to invite Irene and my siblings, and also Claire, to our place. It feels like a good, neutral way to have the two of them meet without putting too much pressure on them to have to converse with each other. I told them about it in advance, so it wouldn't be a surprise, and they both agreed it was an excellent idea. But now, the thought of them meeting fills me with trepidation. It feels like a collision of both of my worlds… Of all of my worlds.

Everyone important to me under one roof, which didn't happen, even for my wedding, so it feels symbolic. A start of something new and significant, in more ways than one. It's why I'm delaying the inevitable, wanting to spend more time with him. But my husband knows my stalling tactics, for he steps back. I underestimated just how much he can read my mind, for he looks deep into my eyes and says, "I'm with you, every step of the way. When you feel like everything is out of control, simply look at me and know, I'm there with you. I'll always be there in your corner, rooting for you. I'm your wingman, baby."

Once again, emotions choke my throat. But something lighter, frothier, bubbles in my heart. Hope and happiness and excitement. Yes, excitement that the future will bring what's best for me, and no matter what happens, I can handle it because he's with me. "I love you, Knox."

"I love you too, Duchess."

My cheeks redden. It seems like such a long time ago when I was so upset that he insisted on calling me by names which weren't my own, that I threw out a few ridiculous ones for him to use. "You don't have to call me that."

"I want to, for you are the center of my universe. My queen. And I'll do anything to keep you happy."

"Oh, Knox." Those frothy emotions in my throat extend to the rest of my body, until it feels like I'm floating on air.

"Are you happy?" he asks tenderly.

"Very." My lips curve.

"Good." He grins back at me. "Ready to face the hordes?"

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you settled down." Arthur beams between me and my husband. "Of course, I take credit for it."

Knox sneers. "Have you forgotten, if you'd your way, you'd have married me off to someone else?"

Arthur's smile grows even wider. "I pushed you to marry Toren's sister, knowing it would push you to acknowledge your feelings for June."

When I risk a look at my husband's features, he seems taken aback. "Let me get this right, you set me up in a possible arranged marriage to someone else so that?—"

"—you got a kick in the pants to acknowledge how much in love you were with your wife." Arthur glances at me and his features soften. "And I don't blame you. June is a one in a million?—"

My heart swells in my chest.

"When I saw the two of you in your office, I knew she was the one for you. But like my other grandsons, you were, clearly, too pig-headed to realize the woman you wanted was right in front of your eyes." He turns his gaze on Knox. "I didn't want you to lose your chance at your own happy ending."

My husband's jaw hardens. "Goddamn meddling old man, you orchestrated that sequence of events?" His navy irises turn glacial. He looks pissed off. And I admit, he looks hot. I love my husband's ‘angry face,' but this is his grandfather.

Arthur welcomed me warmly into the family. I hadn't realized that by marrying Knox, I was also marrying his entire family. His grandfather, uncle, and brothers are all up in each other's business in a way I love. It's what I missed growing up. I slip my arm around my husband's waist. He looks down at me, and the cold in his eyes melts away.

He pulls me in closer, then turns to his grandfather. "You were right in what you did."

"I was?" Arthur seems surprised.

"It gave me the incentive I needed to get my life back on track. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have married the love of my life. And to think, I didn't suspect a thing?" Knox chuckles.

"Of course, I hoped it'd bring Tyler and Priscilla together, as well. Unfortunately, I haven't succeeded in that regard"—Arthur sighs—"yet."

I ran into Priscilla at a coffee shop in Primrose Hill when she came to meet a friend. What could have been an awkward meeting turned out to be a pleasant encounter. We got to talking and decided to stay in touch. She says she's over Tyler, but I'm not so sure. In fact, I suspect that the engagement Arthur masterminded might yet bear fruit for them. But that's really Priscilla's story to tell. I stay silent.

Arthur looks past us, and his expression brightens. "On the other hand, there are others who need my help."

"What are you up to now, Gramps?" my husband mutters under his breath in a pitch only I can hear.

"Ryot, my boy—" Arthur beckons to him. Ryot prowls over, a groove between his eyebrows. He's not happy at having caught his grandfather's attention.

"—are you sure about this assignment?" Arthur asks in a voice that's supposed to be casual, but there's no mistaking the undertone of interest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Irene and Claire deep in conversation. I introduced them, and to my amazement, they embraced; and then, it was out of my hands. They started talking and haven't stopped for the last fifteen minutes.

My siblings, too, were swept up by the crowd. Nathan's wife Skylar took them under her wing. She made sure they had enough to eat and drink, and when Tiny arrived with Arthur, they made a beeline for the Great Dane. It's wonderful to hear the house echoing with good natured ribbing between the Davenport brothers, and the sounds of Tiny's barking, interspersed with the excited laughter of my siblings, as well as of Summer and Sinclair's son, who's happily toddling around under Summer's watchful eye.

So, I'm only half listening when Ryot replies, "I told you about it out of courtesy. Your opinion about it doesn't matter to me in the least."

Arthur harrumphs, "Either way, you should know I approve."

Excuse me? Did he just say he approved? I whip my head around in time to see Ryot's gaze narrow.

My husband, too, is staring at his grandfather. "You okay, Grandad? You want to sit down, perhaps?" He flags down one of the passing waitstaff we've hired to cater for the evening. He takes a glass of water from his tray and hands it over to Arthur, who waves it aside impatiently.

"I don't need to sit down. I'm not thirsty. I feel just fine."

Knox, Ryot, and I look at him warily.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, why is it so surprising that I approve of Ryot striking out on his own?"

"Probably because you've made it very clear how much you want your grandsons to join the Davenport Group and grow its reach and influence?" Knox says wryly.

"And I do believe in that. I have no doubt that Ryot will, one day, join the family business."

Ryot's eyebrows draw down.

"But meanwhile, he's doing what he thinks is best for him. And if that's becoming a bodyguard for a princess, so be it."

Ryot firms his jaw. "I shouldn't be surprised you know about it already, but I am. How did you?—"

Arthur waves his hand. "There's little that happens that I don't get to know about." His eyes gleam. "Besides, connections with the Royal Family are always useful, don't you think?"

My husband groans. "So that's why you're on board. You think Ryot's assignment will help forge closer relations with royalty. In fact—" He does a double take, then shakes his head. "Nope, that can't be it."

Ryot's frown deepens.

Arthur watches my husband with interest. "Go on then, spit it out, boy."

"Nope. I don't believe it. In fact, I'm quite sure, not even you could be that devious"—he rubs his chin—"could you?" He narrows his gaze on Arthur, whose features take on an innocent veneer. And that convinces me, my husband is onto something.

Ryot glares at my husband. Something passes between them, and he scoffs. "No fucking way, am I falling for that."

"For what?" I look between Ryot and husband. "What is it? Will someone explain it to me?"

Ryot continues to scowl at Knox, then he turns to me. "Your husband suspects, as do I, that Arthur thinks my becoming a bodyguard for a princess means there's every possibility I'll fall for her and marry her, thus fulfilling his aspirations for his grandsons, but"—he nods at Arthur—"you can put away your machinations. I'm not falling for that."

For someone who prefers not to speak too much, Ryot sure isn't holding back his opinion. He must be wary that Arthur will try to get him settled down next, now that I'm out of the running.

Arthur schools his expressions into one of virtue, which comes off as anything but. "Surely, you can't be accusing me of being that devious."

Ryot sneers, "You are that devious. And if it weren't for the fact I know this assignment is genuine, I'd suspect you of manipulating it so Quentin's security company got it. But not even you could have predicted I'd be joining him, so—" He rolls his shoulders. "So, for what it's worth, I'm glad you think it's important to give me your assent, but I wasn't asking for it. And I couldn't care less what you think of it. And it would've satisfied me to no end if you were pissed off, which is what I was aiming for, but what-fucking-ever." He turns to Knox. "I came, only because you called me and I'm truly happy for the both of you." He turns to me, and his features soften.

"I know my brother loves you and I can tell you're good for him. I wish the two of you the absolute best, and—" His phone buzzes. He pulls it out, and whoever he reads on the screen has him setting his jaw. A change comes over him. He becomes even more distant; his stance grows stiffer. When he looks up, his gaze is already remote.

"You have to go," Knox says with resignation.

"I do." He nods at Knox. "Wishing you the best, brother. I'm confident you're going to make an amazing father." Then, he half bows in my direction. "Any time the two of you need anything, I'm at your disposal." Then, without another glance in Arthur's direction, he turns and leaves .

Knox turns to Arthur. "There's someone here I think you'll want to meet."

Arthur arches an eyebrow, and the gesture is so Knox-like, I stare. Damn, if Knox doesn't get some of his surliness from this old man. Only, I sense the tenderness in Knox, while Arthur… Not sure if he has a soft bone in his entire body.

"Who would that be?" Arthur asks with curiosity.

Laughter rings out, and Arthur pales. "Is that?" He swallows.

Knox nods. "Imelda's here." Then he shuffles his feet. "I apologize for not warning you she was within earshot of our conversation in my office. I didn't realize how much it would impact your relationship. But, having found my own happily ever after, I want you to have the same. Of course, knowing how much of a stubborn, old codger you are, I figured I needed to do my bit to bring the two of you face-to-face."

Arthur swallows. He looks genuinely moved by Knox's gesture. "You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who was too stubborn to acknowledge my emotions."

"Sounds familiar," Knox murmurs.

"I'm glad you found a woman to make you face up to your feelings. And when I realized I'd lost Imelda, it was a shock. Enough to make me see the error of my ways." He rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I owe her an apology."

"She's right there." Knox looks past him. "And she's noticed you. You'd better go to her before she decides to leave."

Arthur squares his shoulders. "Wish me luck." He turns and walks toward Imelda. Imelda sees him coming, pivots, and heads toward the door. Arthur hurries his pace. "Imelda, wait."

They disappear into the hallway. "You think they'll be okay?" I ask.

Knox pulls me closer. "That's in Arthur's hands."

"And Ryot? Do you think Arthur?—"

"Manipulated things so Ryot got put on the bodyguard detail with the Princess?" Knox grunts. "I wouldn't put it past him. Either way, Arthur would be ecstatic if Ryot and the Princess fell in love. But will Ryot see it that way?"

To find out what happens next read Ryot and Princess Aurelia's story here

To find out what happens next, read Ryot and Aurelia's story in The Reluctant Wife here

Want a bonus epilogue featuring Knox her shapely ankles and the flow of her calves pulse a thrill of anticipation under my skin. Sweat pools under my armpits. I raise my gaze in time to catch her gathering her hair over a shoulder.

The creamy expanse of her back bared by the V-back of her dress has me entranced. She passes the line of women waiting for the Ladies', past the Gents' until she reaches the door that must open out onto the back alley. When she steps through, I'm right behind her. The door slams shut. The sound echoes around the empty space. It sends a shudder of something through her—anticipation, fear? A mixture of both? She pauses. And when I place my hand on her shoulder, she shivers.

When I run my hand down the expanse of skin revealed by the plunging back neckline of the dress, she sighs. I slide my hand down the arch of her back. I want her so much. I could push her up against the wall and she wouldn't resist. But something makes me stop. A sixth sense… that instinct that had saved my life so many times when I was on a tour of duty. Something about the softness of the fabric of her dress, about the fit which proclaims it's not a charity shop buy. The sleek leather of her heels which indicates it's a comfortable fit that wouldn't hurt her feet, the kind that only money—lots of money—can buy.

The thick waterfall of her hair with its strands of fiery auburn and copper and mahogany proclaims loudly that it's been tended to by masterful hands. And that skin of hers—I swallow. That gossamer fine, satiny plush, buttery smooth skin of hers. One touch and it'd stop the devil himself in his tracks. And I'm only human. I pull her up against me and she gasps.

I lower my head and drag my whiskered chin up the side of her neck. She shudders. And when I bite down on the lobe of her ear she whines. The sound cuts through the haze in my mind. I raise my head and look around the empty alley. There are dumpsters opposite us lined up like sentinels. A dog barks in the distance. The faint sound of voices, a muffled crash as something breaks reaches us through the door at our back. I wince. Then twist her around to face me. She looks up into my face.

"Come home with me," I growl.

Her gaze widens, then she shakes her head, "I can't."

"Why not? You want this. So do I." I frown. "Unless I read your signals wrong."

She blinks rapidly.

"Did I? Is that what this is? Didn't take you for a tease."

"I'm not a tease." She sets her jaw. "And I do want you. But I can't wait." She jumps up and I catch her. She wraps her legs around my waist. "Here," She pants. "Right here."

I hesitate.

She rises up throwing her arms about my neck and holds on. "I want you." Her lips tremble. "Please."

Her soft whisper infiltrates my resolve. I turn and press her into the wall near the door we'd come through. She must sense the evidence of my need for her lips part. Then she's raising her chin, I low mine. Our mouths clash. The kiss is everything the earlier one had promised and more, so much more. Her taste permeates my senses, her scent fills my nostrils, the feel of her in my arms is heaven. I tilt my head and drink from her, feel the barrenness in my chest absorb the sensations and come to life.

Once again, I feel this… meeting is not trivial. It's meant to be much more. More than a chance getting together. More than a fumbling encounter in the alleyway. I pull back and chest heaving stare into her flushed features. Her eyelids flutter open, and she looks back with dilated pupils. Her fiery red strands have fallen over her forehead, and something in the angle at which she's staring at me sends a ripple of awareness up my spine. "Have I met you before?" I frown .

She startles, then panic filters into her eyes. "Of course not," she half laughs. The sound is feeble, and a flash of guilt laces her features. She pushes against my chest, and I let her down and take a step back. I steady her until she finds her footing, then stay in place until she's put her clothes to right.

"You know what? Forget it," she tosses her head, "I don't think I want you after all."

I allow a small smirk to curl my features and am rewarded by her glower.

"That's not what I read on your features earlier, Princess," I scoff.

An expression of alarm comes over her.

"What's wrong, you—" I grunt for she's kneed me in the groin. Bloody hell. It's not that it's painful as much as she's taken me by surprise. She darts past me and by the time I recover and hurry after her she's reached the mouth of the alley. I run after her, turn the corner to find she's racing up the sidewalk. Past the entrance to the bar. I run toward her then pause when a limousine draws to a halt in front of her.

She steps into the vehicle and shuts the door. A limousine? And based on my experience in the Marines I can tell that it has been reinforced with bullet proof armor. I frown. Who is this mystery woman? One who looks like an angel and smells like heaven yet has the presence of mind to pretend I was her husband to get rid of unwanted attention, but kisses like a siren. She's so full of contradictions, so full of life, so enticing that surely, I won't be able to forget her. The car drives past. The window lowers and her gaze meets mine. Despite the darkness, there's enough light from the street lamps to light up her features. Her eyes sparkle like smoky quartz, like the richness of Tiger's Eye and Topaz. Something so precious, so unique. My heart skips a beat. Then she's gone and the taillights disappear up the road and into the distance.

Silence for a second. Another. The wind blows. Scraps of paper caught in the whirlwind dance in circles. Like my life. Like this emptiness left behind. I shove my hand into the pocket of my jeans. It's not like me to give into such fanciful thinking. Whoever she was is gone. Good riddance. I'll never see her again. Never feel the press of those gorgeous lips against mine. Good thing too. I don't have time for such distractions. I've sworn never to allow myself to be this susceptible again. Will never allow myself to feel for another. Not after what I've been through. And yet—the way she'd felt in my arms. The way she'd molded herself to me. Those curves of hers which had felt so right. So vital. So, everything. I shake my head. She's gone. Time for me to move onto and put her out of my mind. My phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and bark, "What?"

"Be ready to report for your assignment at oh-nine-hundred, hours," my uncle's voice snaps.

It's as if I'm back in the Marines and he's my commander. Only I'm not and neither is he. If he'd been he'd be asking me to turn up for duty at a god-forsaken hour. Nine a.m, would have been the middle of the day for me. As it is, I'd have been up and trained for a few hours before I'd shower and be at the place I'm expected to be.

"I haven't said I'm accepting the task."

He laughs, "cut the crap, both of us know you are. Besides it's not like you have other options."

"Not like joining a brand-new security agency which hasn't yet built its reputation is," I remind him.

"My reputation precedes me," he says softly. Only a fool would take Quentin Davenport at face value. His tone masks an edge of steel. I can almost picture the harsh set to his features which resemble mine. Q was the first to join the Marines. It set an example for me and my brothers to follow. And all of us expect the youngest, Connor joined the armed forces. And each of us retired after giving our best years to the service. None of us regretted it, either. Though, dealing with the guilt of living while so many of others didn't, is one I'm not sure I'll be over anytime soon either.

"You're not going to join the Davenport group, at least you're smart enough to not make that mistake," he admits. Q like my older brothers Nathan and Knox had given it a shot, but while Nathan had stayed on as CEO of the group, Q had left to recruit other ex-Marines and start the security agency. When I'd heard about it, it'd felt like a viable alternative to riding a desk—a possibility which had as much appeal as being trapped in an almost airless container by my enemies. I squeeze my fingers around my phone.

"I haven't forgiven you," I snap.

"I don't expect you to," he blows out a breath. "But you need a goal, a focus to keep you going, and I need good men. And you don't want your training to go to waste. If there's one thing I know about you Ryot Davenport, it's that you want to continue to protect those in need. But do you have the guts to accept this challenge? Do you have the courage to rise above your past and move on? Do you—" he hesitates, "—do you have the fortitude to not just survive but live once again?"