"What would you have me do, Celia?" he whispered, not to argue with her, but because he truly didn't know. He'd never known himself, never been anyone but a lie, a ghost, a tool.
She smiled as if she understood. "Make a new start with me. As John Dane. Whoever he turns out to be. Make a life with me. Love me, and more than that, allow me to love you as you grow into the man you will be next. Please."
The "please" was what broke him. She was offering him everything he'd always wanted and never dared hope for. She was offering him herself, and he knew that would be enough, more than enough, to sustain him for the rest of his life.
"I-I love you," he whispered, daring to say the words out loud once again, but this time not as a curse. He expected them to still be bitter but they were infinitely sweet on his tongue.
Pure joy brightened her face even as she asked, "But do you want to be with me?"
"More than anything," he admitted. "Though I fear I'll let you down."
"You couldn't," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him and drew his lips to hers.
He sank into her, knowing that the war was over, the battle won … or lost, he supposed, since he had fought her so long and now he was giving in. But he reveled in the losing, for it meant such happiness, such joy. For the first time, he let himself look forward to the future and he was surprised by how wonderful it felt.
He drew back with a gasp as he was filled with happiness. She smiled.
"There's John Dane," she murmured as she slid her hands into his open shirt and glided it from his shoulders. "There's the man you'll become."
"And what is that?" he whispered, not fighting as she tugged him over to the very rug he had pictured taking her on and drew him down onto it.
"Happy," she said, kissing him. "Free. Mine."
"All yours," he agreed, laying her back and covering her body with his at last.
Her hands smoothed over his flesh, kneading there, taking and giving all at once. Her gown buttoned in the front and his fingers flew over the fastenings, loosening it even as he kissed and kissed her. She sighed as he parted the dress and let his mouth draw away from hers to kiss the column of her throat, then the arch of her collarbone, the smoothness of her chest.
He pulled at the dress, taking it down her arms as she arched her back for access. The chemise came with it, baring her from the waist up.
He stared at her, beautiful in the streaming sunshine from the window, the jumping light from the fire behind her. She was perfect and glorious and his, all his, for the rest of his life.
He bent his head and captured one tight nipple, licking and gently biting the flesh until she cried out and her hands tangled in his hair. He pushed her dress lower and followed the rolling fabric, kissing the flat plane of her stomach until he was forced to draw away and use both hands to pull her dress over her hips. Her drawers followed, then her stockings and at last she was naked on the rug, staring up at him not in fear, not in worry …
But in pure love and welcome. She was home, and he covered her with his body, setting in the V of her legs where he fit so perfectly. She smiled against his neck.
"You are too dressed," she whispered, tugging at his pants.
He smiled. "I am, I know. But I am too comfortable to ever leave."
She laughed, a happy sound, a beautiful sound that filled his ears with pleasure. "Take them off and I will find you a more comfortable spot to rest."
He chuckled as he got up. "Who knew you were such a negotiator?" he asked as he kicked off his boots and pushed his trousers off in record speed.
She leaned up on her elbows to watch him, licking her lips as his erection bobbed free and he stood before her naked.
"You are too beautiful," she muttered as she reached for him.
She caught his length and he sucked in a breath. "Isn't that my line?"
"I'll steal it," she purred, drawing him closer and rubbing her thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. Pleasure poured through him, making his cock twitch even as his whole body relaxed into liquid pleasure.
"Steal all you like. Everything of mine is yours now."
"I only want this," she said.
He lowered himself back over her and she opened her legs wider, watching him carefully as he positioned himself at her dripping entrance.
Their gazes held as he slid inside, inch by inch, take by take. When he was fully seated, her body shuddered around him and she gripped him with her internal muscles.
"Great God," he moaned as he began to rotate his hips above her. She lifted into him, her body clinging to him, but she never looked away, holding him hostage with her hooded, heated stare.
He drove harder, judging his motions by the catch of her breath, the way her skin flushed. She was close to the brink and he couldn't wait to join her, especially since his body was so very ready to claim her, truly claim her, at long last.
He slid a hand between them and found her clitoris. With a flick of his thumb, he tossed her over the edge and she screamed as she fell, her nails digging into him, her body milking him.
He couldn't wait any longer. He felt the impending release and growled out her name as he poured himself deep within her, drawing both their orgasms out as long as he could.
Then he collapsed to the floor beside her and gathered her to his chest.
"Now," he panted. "You are truly mine."
"I was yours the moment I saw you," she gasped back. "And I will be yours until the stars die out."
He looked down at her, fitted comfortably in his arms, and knew she meant it. All of it. He knew, and it gave him strength and power and all the hope in the world for tomorrow and the rest of his life.
Epilogue
June 1811
Celia had only been a wife for a short time, and she still loved to see her husband come down the stairs to breakfast. His hair had grown out in the month since they reunited. He'd also grown a beard. She loved them both, loved that he looked a new man as well as acted and spoke as a new man.
And yet John was still, at his core, the person she'd fallen in love with. His gaze found hers and his hooded expression spoke of all the pleasures they had shared the night before in their bedroom above.
A smaller bedroom than the one she'd shared with him when he was still pretending to be a duke. In actuality, everything was smaller now. Their home, their staff, her wardrobe-all had shrunk as they began together. Yet her life felt bigger. Fuller.
"Rosalinde and Gray return to London today, yes?" he asked as he took a spot at the table beside her and grabbed her hand to lift it to his lips.
She smiled as a maid brought him a plate of food. "They do. We'll see them off in about an hour."
"Do you wish you were going with them?" he asked, his tone even but his eyes concerned.
She shook her head. "Not at all. London holds no sway for me. I'm happy here in my home. We're close to Gray and Rosalinde and you're in it, so that's all I need. Honestly, I don't think Gray would go, himself, except that he seems concerned for his brother. Something is going on with Stenfax, I fear."
John said nothing, but pursed his lips at the mention of her former fiancé. She laughed at the foolishness of that notion.
"Still jealous, are you?" she teased.
"No," he said, his expression gentling. "I think I've made you mine quite thoroughly."
She stood and slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. "And that was just last night."
He laughed, but his eyes still held worry. "No, it isn't Stenfax who concerns me. I have only been working as Gray's partner in his businesses for ten days. I am being left in charge and I can't help but wonder if I'll cock it up entirely."
She nodded, understanding him entirely. "Gray wouldn't have left things to you if he didn't think you could handle it. He trusts you."
"Somehow, after all the lies, yes," John said. He threaded his hands into her hair, cupping the back of her head gently. "This new life, it is all because of you, you know."
She smiled. "And are you happy with it, my love?"
"Happier than I could ever express," he whispered. "And I am also truly, madly, deeply in love with you."
She leaned down so he could kiss her again, drowning in the power of his love and all the joy it brought her. This was her husband. This was her life. This was her bliss. Forever.