Chapter 51 - A Night of Reckless Devotion

Verbena lay in the massive bed, bathed in silver moonlight, her silk nightgown clinging to her skin like a lover's touch. She had thought she'd be able to sleep after her quiet confession earlier that evening—but her heart, and her body, were traitorous.

The soft creak of the door opening had her turning her head, only to find Theodore standing there, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, dark hair damp from his evening bath.

He didn't speak at first. His gaze roamed over her, lingering shamelessly at the way the silk curved over her body, and Verbena's breath caught in her throat. The air between them felt charged—heavy with something far more dangerous than the usual banter or schemes.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked softly, her voice thinner than she intended.

"Who could sleep when their wife keeps surprising them like this?" His voice was lower, raspier. "First you threaten me at breakfast, then you kiss me like a villainess at war, and now…" His eyes darkened as they trailed down to the delicate ribbon tied between her breasts. "…you lie here looking like you want me to devour you."

Her face heated, but she didn't back down. Not tonight. "Maybe I do."

The silence that followed was deafening. And then, Theodore was on the bed, his body over hers, one hand braced beside her head, the other tracing a slow line from her collarbone down to the ribbon.

"Careful what you ask for, Duchess," he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and teasing. "I might not stop."

She shivered, and his smile turned wicked.

The fingers tracing the ribbon gave it a sharp tug, letting the silk part just enough to expose the delicate skin underneath. His lips followed—hot, slow kisses trailing down her throat, across her collarbone, until she arched into him.

"Are you always this bold when you scheme?" he teased, his voice muffled against her skin.

"Only when I want something," she whispered back.

"And what do you want now?"

"You."

That single word shattered whatever fragile restraint Theodore had left. His mouth captured hers in a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other slid down her waist, gripping her hip possessively. She was soft beneath him, warm and willing, her fingers clawing at his back like she couldn't get close enough.

They moved like a storm, all heat and hunger—her nightgown pushed up, his shirt tossed aside, skin meeting skin for the first time without barriers. Theodore kissed her breathless, dragging his lips down her throat, his teeth grazing just enough to leave a mark.

"You're mine," he growled softly.

"Yours," she answered, her legs wrapping around his waist. "So prove it."

And he did—thoroughly, relentlessly, until the only name she could remember was his.

**

Later, when they lay tangled together in the aftermath, Verbena's head resting against his chest, Theodore stroked her hair lazily, his touch far gentler than his earlier hunger.

"Why now?" he murmured. "Why stop running?"

She traced circles on his skin, thinking. "Because I realized that falling for you doesn't make me weak. It makes me dangerous."

He chuckled softly. "My terrifying wife."

"Terrifyingly in love," she corrected.

Theodore's hand froze for a heartbeat before tilting her chin up so he could see her face. "Are you?"

She didn't answer—not with words. Instead, she kissed him again, slower this time, the kind of kiss that made promises no scheme could break.

And somewhere, in the dark corridors of Hellgrave Manor, a maid hurriedly scurried away from the door, eyes wide with scandalized horror and excitement. The Duchess and Duke… they were no longer pretending.

The gossip would spread like wildfire come morning, but Verbena didn't care.

Let the whole world know. This was her kingdom now—and Theodore was hers.

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End of chapter