Never Play with a Rakish Duke – Extended Epilogue

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Isabella smiled as she walked across the lawn on the east side of the manor, stopping to pick flowers randomly, as she wandered. This was her favourite part of the day, in the gardens, during summer. The flowers were blooming with abandon still, and there was dappled light on the ground, interspersed with shadows from the old elm tree. She often wondered if she had ever seen anything so beautiful in her whole life.

She stopped, for a moment, to lean down and breathe in the heady perfume of a deep crimson rose. Sudden joy overwhelmed her, that she was here, doing this simple thing. That her new life as the Duchess of Penthurst was filled with an endless stream of these wonderful moments, all stitching together to make the whole.

She loved her new home. She loved everything about it, from the grandeur of the house to the magnificence of the gardens. She had been slowly exploring it in the six months she had been living here, and still found new nooks and crannies, each day. Only yesterday, she had wandered further afield and discovered an old abandoned folly at the edge of the property, where the woods met the river.

But it was so much more than the physical space that she now occupied, of course. She smiled dreamily as she thought about her husband. Jasper. The man who had turned her life upside down, sweeping her into a joy that she had never before experienced. It seemed strange to her, now, that she had once believed that romantic love did not truly exist. How wrong she had been.

The love between them had only deepened in the six months since he had slipped the ring onto her finger, making her his own. They were very compatible, enjoying riding together, as well as quieter pursuits, in the home. And then, at night, they came together again, experiencing afresh that physical passion that had also only grown with time.

Sometimes, she could see a shadow falling across his face and knew that he was remembering those tragedies, which had so shaped his life before he had met her. But the shadows would always pass quickly, and they never came between them. He had been as good as his word, that it was behind him, and it would never come between them again.

He told her often that it was her love alone that had transformed him. That he felt reborn in her company and in her arms. 

She straightened, shielding her eyes with one hand, blocking out the bright sunlight as she gazed into the distance. Her heart lurched. He was in the distance coming towards her from the house. It was like this, every single time that she saw him. As if she had never seen him before, and she was discovering her love, afresh.

She picked up the hem of her gown and started running towards him, her heart beating frantically, almost tripping, in her haste.

She watched him start to pick up his own pace as he came towards her. He was running, now, too, just as eager to get to her as she was to get to him. 

When they finally met, he put his arms around her and picked her up, twirling her around in a frantic pirouette. They both laughed with sheer delight to be with each other, again.

She simply had not realised that such a love could exist. And every single day, she thanked the Lord, that it was hers. That she had given him that second chance to prove himself to her. 

                                                                     ***

They drifted inside, hand in hand, to luncheon. Today, Cook had prepared a salad and a medley of cold meats. As they dined, the butler entered, carrying the day’s mail. Most were given to Jasper, but one letter was passed to her. She gazed at it curiously as she ripped it open, reading quickly.

“Who is it from?” Jasper asked her as he flipped through his own letters, tossing them aside.

“It is from Eleanor,” she said, with delight. “She has just returned from her honeymoon, and settling into her new home, with Mr Thompson. She writes that she is delirious with happiness and simply cannot wait for us to catch up on each other’s news.”

Jasper smiled. “I like Thompson. You can see how much he adores Eleanor. He told me before their wedding that he could not get her out of his mind the whole time he was stationed in Ireland, with the army.” He paused. “He thought that he had missed his chance with her, but when he returned to Chilwich, it was as if no time had passed between them at all.”

Isabella smiled. It had been a whirlwind romance, in the end, between her best friend and her lost love. They were engaged and married within three months. Isabella had never seen her friend so happy. Mr Thompson had purchased a modest country estate for them to begin their married life, which wasn’t so very far away from Rivergate Manor. Her heart glowed to think that her best friend would be living so close and that perhaps, in the fullness of time, their children could play together.

It was good to be surrounded by friends, she thought, as another wave of happiness swept over her. Jasper’s best friend, Lord Archie Radcliffe, had married his fiancée, Julia, as well, and they were living close by. They had all become the best of friends, and often socialised, playing cards, or going riding. 

She kept reading Eleanor’s letter, simply delighted that her friend was home and that they would be seeing each other again, very soon.

“Any other news, from Eleanor?” Jasper asked, taking a bite of his salad.

Isabella frowned slightly, biting her lip. Eleanor wrote that she had heard news of Laurence Wilson since she had returned home. She glanced at her husband, unsure whether she should mention the man’s name to him at all.

“Bella, what is it?” he asked, gazing at her with concern. “Is there bad news?”

“No, no,” she said, putting down the letter and gazing at her husband. “The exact opposite. Eleanor waxes almost lyrical about her joy.” She hesitated. “But she does mention that she has heard news of Mr Laurence Wilson …”

Jasper’s response was immediate as soon as she mentioned the man’s name. He stiffened, and his eyes darkened. Isabella knew how much he loathed the gentleman, and to be honest, she could see why. Her husband had told her about how Mr Wilson had baited him on numerous occasions, saying that he would court her, even though she was engaged. And telling Jasper that he didn’t deserve a woman like her.

It had all come to a head, apparently, just after their own awful incident, where Jasper had told her he didn’t want to marry her any longer. Jasper had grown so angry with the man that he took him by the scruff of the neck, telling him in no uncertain terms to back away. Apparently, the incident did some good, though. It was part of the reason that Jasper finally realised that he didn’t want to lose her.

“What of him?” Jasper asked through gritted teeth. “I, for one, hope that he has fallen off the side of the earth, entirely. The insolence and cheek of the man …”

“I know,” she said soothingly, putting a hand over his own. “But it is in the past, now, my love. I was never fond of Mr Wilson, and I thank the Lord daily, that you came into my life.” She paused. “I can only imagine how unhappy I would have been with him.”

Jasper’s face softened, and he gazed at her, his eyes shining with love. “Yes. As I thank the Lord daily for bringing you to me. For making me the happiest man in the world.”

Isabella smiled. “Eleanor merely mentions in passing that she heard news that Mr Wilson is only recently married,” she said. “A quick engagement by the sounds of it. He has moved on, Jasper, which I always knew he would.” She paused. “He never truly loved me, as he never truly knew me. You do not need to think of him as a threat, any longer, my love.”

Jasper sagged a little, squeezing her hand tighter. So, she had been right that the thought of that man still concerned him, just a little. That he still felt insecure that Mr Wilson might one day sweep in and steal her away from him. It amazed her that he could think such a thing, but she had always suspected it.

“Well, that is good news, then,” he said slowly. “The man is out of our lives, well and truly, and cannot cause any more trouble …”

“How could you believe that he ever could, my love,” she said, in a soft voice. “Even if he decided to camp outside the house, shouting his love to me daily, it still would make no difference.” She paused. “It is you that I love and always will. You are the only man for me. You were always the only man for me.”

He blinked back sudden tears. “As you are the only woman for me, Bella. I am just sorry that it took me so long to realise that. That I caused you such pain while I was still grappling with it all.” He looked shamefaced. “I almost let that man take you away from me. I almost handed you to him on a platter. I can hardly bear to think about it now.”

“Hush,” she whispered, her heart flipping over with love for him. “It is all in the past, now. Everything happened for a reason, and our love is stronger now, because of it. Surely, you realise that?”

He sighed deeply, still grappling with the strong emotion, but she could see that her words were guiding him through it. It would just take a while for him to fully let go of his loathing and insecurity about Mr Wilson. But Eleanor’s news about him, that he was now married, was sure to help. It was as if they could finally move on from the whole drama of their engagement, once and for all, and truly settle into their marriage.

He stood up, slowly, throwing his napkin down on the table. She gazed up at him. What was he doing?

But the answer to that question soon became apparent. He pulled her into his arms, his lips descending on hers with a ferocity that surprised her. He usually was not so obviously amorous during the day. It was only at night, when they were finally alone in their chambers, that their passion for each other was given full reign. 

She pulled away, a little. “Jasper,” she whispered, her cheeks turning pink. “A servant might come in at any moment. And then, there is your father …”

He grinned at her, quite wolfishly. She felt a shiver run through her, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet.

“To the devil with all of them,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms again. “I think we should finish luncheon early. I find I am no longer hungry.” His green eyes glittered dangerously. “I find that a hunger of a different kind needs to be satiated right now, my love.”

                                                                    ***

She resisted, just a little, but it was only a token. Already, she was glowing with excitement, at the promise of what was to come.

But to her surprise, he didn’t lead her up the stairs to their chambers. Instead, he took her by the hand and led her out into the grounds. He didn’t speak as they walked, side by side, down a long, twisting garden path that she had not explored, as yet. It was near the old maze that he had told her was there. She had never ventured to this part of the grounds; it was all so vast.

Eventually, they reached the end of it. She gasped, in shock. Before them, lay a summer house, made entirely of glass. It was very old, and the glass was thickened with cobwebs.

“Follow me,” he whispered, leading her through it. On the other side of the wide space, there was an opening leading directly to the river, which snaked its way through the estate, and from which it had derived its name. 

She gasped again. It was so beautiful, almost ethereal.

An old weeping willow’s branches hung low, almost sweeping the ground, and the river was still, glimmering in the sunlight like diamonds. A soft breeze whipped loose tendrils of hair off her face. It was like a secret cove, a sanctuary. A place where she could imagine fairies and elves frolicking in private.

“It is magical,” she breathed spellbound.

He nodded, looking pleased. “It is,” he said slowly. “I used to come here often when I was growing up. No one knew about it, and I could sit and let the world pass me by watching the river.” He shrugged, a bit self-consciously. “We all need our little private spots in this world.”

She laughed softly. “I love this. I love that this was your private spot, and that it is beautiful, and that you have honoured me, by bringing me here.”

For a moment, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he had brought her here. If he had brought the beautiful, tragic Kate, to this spot. If they had sat, side by side, in perfect companionable silence, along this bank, holding hands in communion with each other.

But she resisted the impulse. It would spoil the moment. And what did it truly matter if he had? He was trying so hard to let the past go and not let it ruin their lives together. In fairness, she just had to accept that he did have a past and not resent it.

They sat down on the edge of the river, the willow’s branches casting shadows across the grass. She leant back, so that she was lying down, and closed her eyes, feeling the wind and the sunlight on her face, utterly in the moment.

She gasped as she felt him touch her, sweeping his hands over her breasts, almost tentatively. She opened her eyes. He was looming over her with that familiar hungry glint in his eyes. Her own body lurched violently in response, as it always did.

As excitement tore through her, at the feel of his hands kneading her breasts, tweaking the nipples, she contemplated that they had never made love anywhere but in their own bed. She had to admit that it added an extra frisson of excitement to it. The fact that they were in nature, and that perhaps, they might be discovered, at any moment.

He groaned, deep in his throat, as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking with abandon. She arched her back, drowning, in the sudden sweet sensations. She could feel him against her, hard with longing. She reached out a hand, taking him, feeling the hot, pulsating skin of his member, stroking it gently. He groaned again, almost in agony.

And then, he reached under her gown, taking possession of her. Stroking her with infinite patience, his fingers slipping into her like silk. She moaned with pure need. The sensations were intensifying, rising like a wave, getting higher and higher with every touch of his hand. She closed her eyes in ecstasy.

Suddenly, he changed positions, lying on his back, forcing her to lie above him. Gently, carefully, he guided her, so that she was atop him, her gown bunched up around her hips. Slowly, she slid down, so that he was inside her, slipping into her as seamlessly as a glove.

She gasped with pure wonder. She was in control; he was beneath her, helpless, gazing up at her adoringly. She felt a surge of power. She was a goddess, riding him. Slowly, then with increasing urgency, she moved against him, glorying in the sensations.

“Oh, yes,” he whispered, his green eyes pinned on her, above him, his hands firmly on her hips. “You are divine, my love. Please, do not stop …”

She twisted on him, in ecstasy, as the sensations started building anew. They felt different in this position. She was moving quicker now, almost bouncing upon him, hard and fast. A hot spurt of wetness flowed out of her, and she cried out as the sensations abruptly hit a dizzying height, so sweet that she almost couldn’t bear it.

As she twisted above him in her climax, he suddenly groaned, clutching her tightly. She felt him release his seed inside her. She fell across him, spent, and panting.

They fell apart, both fighting for breath beneath the hot sun. But then, the cool breeze wafted against her face, cooling her, completely. 

She turned and gazed at him. At his beloved profile. Her husband. Her lover. It only got better and better between them.

Her hand drifted to her belly. She smiled in private communion. She would tell him, soon, that one of those many times when they had made love had taken fruit, and that their first child would be coming along, sooner rather than later.

Her smile widened. But not yet. This afternoon was theirs alone. The river, and the breeze, and the sun, belonged to them, and the moment was not done, yet. Slowly, she reached out a hand, caressing him gently. He smiled lazily, turning to her, once again, the promise of what was between them thickening once more like smoke.

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