Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 7

Seven

S kye stood at the frost-laced window, gazing out at the snow-smothered landscape. She shivered, though not from the cold. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest. She had found joy here, a thaw in the frost surrounding her heart. Laughter, passion, a teasing light in smiling blue eyes that warmed her blood. But it was ephemeral, a mere fancy destined to fade.

She was the widowed Countess of Hampton, a woman who everyone knew had failed to produce an heir for her late husband. Bradford would someday be a duke, his path set in stone. They came from the same world, and both knew the expectations. He would need a wife capable of securing his line. This stolen moment of pretend could not last.

Strong arms enveloped her from behind. She relaxed into Bradford’s embrace, savoring his warmth.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against her hair. “What troubles you, my dear?”

Skye hesitated. “Nothing.” The lie slipped free, as delicate as the snowflakes drifting past the window.

Bradford turned her gently to face him, tilting her chin up to meet his earnest gaze. He pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead, then her lips, a promise sealed in passion.

As she melted into his embrace, the hollow ache inside her glowed with fragile hope. The future remained unknown, but here, now, they had each other. For this moment, it was enough.

Skye pulled back slightly, meeting Bradford’s gaze.

“Come, let us get out of this room for a spell,” he suggested, taking her hand. “There is a library downstairs. Nothing like the comfort of books to lift the spirits.”

Skye allowed him to lead her from the room and down the grand staircase to the inn’s library. It was just as Bradford had promised—warm and cozy, with floor-to-ceiling oak shelves lined with leather-bound volumes. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, warding off the winter chill.

She inhaled deeply, immediately feeling soothed by the familiar scents of parchment and wood polish. Bradford guided her to a plush armchair near the fire and handed her a book of poetry.

“Read to me?” he asked with a playful smile as he settled into the neighboring chair.

Skye flushed, secretly thrilled by this glimpse of the romantic side beneath his rakish exterior. She opened the book of sonnets and began reading aloud, the beautiful words washing over them.

Her voice faltered as she read the next sonnet, the words sparking bittersweet memories of her late husband. Though their marriage had been one of duty, they’d shared a few precious moments of genuine affection. She thought of how she’d failed to give him a child, the heir he’d so desperately wanted.

She glanced at Bradford. He would need an heir to carry on his noble lineage. It was expected of any gentleman in his position. The familiar feelings of inadequacy and sorrow rose within her once more.

Sensing the shift in her mood, Bradford reached over and gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It is plain to see that something is bothering you,” he said.

Skye looked up, surprised. “I was thinking about the past. About my marriage.”

“Was it a happy union?” Bradford asked.

“For the most part,” Skye said. “Though ours was a marriage of convenience, we came to share a true affection. But in time my inability to give the earl an heir weighed heavily on our marriage.”

“I know society puts immense pressure on women to bear children, especially in the aristocracy,” Bradford said. “But a woman’s worth is not solely defined by her fertility. You are so much more than that—intelligent, witty, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you by his side, with or without children.”

Skye’s eyes misted over at his heartfelt words. She had spent so many years believing herself deficient and unworthy of love. But here was this man, seeing her clearly and cherishing her fully.

“Do you really mean that?” she whispered.

“Every word,” Bradford replied, his gaze tender.

Skye allowed a spark of hope for the future to flicker within her heart.

She gazed into Bradford’s kind eyes, feeling the sincerity of his words washing over her. But a small voice of doubt still lingered in the back of her mind.

As they made their way back to the sitting room, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from swirling. Did Bradford truly accept her? Imperfections and all? Would he still care for her if she never bore him children? Did he even wish for a future with her?

The crackling fire cast a warm glow as they entered the room and settled onto the sofa. Alone now, just the two of them, Skye sensed his hesitation.

“Is something troubling you?” she asked gently, fearful that he was giving deeper thought to her inability to bear children.

Bradford ran a hand through his golden locks. “I suppose if we’re being honest, I too have my own insecurities,” he admitted.

She tilted her head, surprised. He always seemed the picture of masculine confidence.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I worry that my reputation precedes me,” Bradford confessed. “The drinking, the gambling, the women...” He shook his head ruefully. “Not exactly honorable behavior for a future duke.”

She listened intently, realizing they both carried the weight of their pasts.

“I want to be a better man, Skye,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “With you, I feel like I can leave those vices behind. That’s why your good opinion means the world to me.”

Reaching out, Skye gave his hand an understanding squeeze. The future was uncertain, but in this moment, their bond felt unbreakable.

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. This was the moment to bare her soul.

“I confess, I have doubts,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Doubts that I’ll ever truly be enough.”

Bradford’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent, letting her continue.

“You could have your pick of any suitable young lady, despite your reputation,” Skye went on. “One who could give you heirs, carry on your lineage. I fear my failures in that regard will always haunt me.”

A single tear traced down her cheek. Bradford reached out, gently brushing it away. His eyes radiated tenderness and care.

“My dear, sweet Skye,” he murmured. “I promise you, your worth goes far beyond your ability to bear children.”

Skye blinked up at him, scarcely believing the compassion in his words.

“From the moment we met, I saw your kind heart, your quick mind,” Bradford continued. “You must not define yourself by one perceived shortcoming. The fault very well may have lain with the earl. Regardless, to me, you are perfect just as you are.”

Overcome with emotion, she took Bradford’s hand, desire welling up inside her, and led him wordlessly to her bedchamber.

Once inside, she drew him close, kissing him passionately. As their clothing loosened and fell away, she marveled at how perfectly their bodies fit together, like two long-separated halves finally rejoined.

His hands moved over her with reverence, awakening parts of her only he had ever reached. She arched into him, surrendering completely to the exquisite sensations.

Their lovemaking was intense yet tender, speaking volumes in sighs and gasps and murmurs of affection. All her fears, all her pain, dissolved, leaving only pure connection and bliss.

Afterward, they lay entwined, spent and peaceful. Skye lay nestled in Bradford’s arms, her head resting comfortably on his chest as she listened to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily trailed up and down her back, sending little shivers through her body. She sighed contentedly, still floating in a haze of satiation.

Bradford pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. He marveled at how perfectly her petite frame fit against him, like two pieces of a puzzle. After years of meaningless trysts, he finally understood the difference between desiring a woman’s body and cherishing her soul. With Skye, it was as if he was making love for the very first time.

Skye tilted her chin up to meet Bradford’s gaze, her eyes shining with a newfound sense of hope. “What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.

Bradford smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m thinking how lucky I am to have found you,” he replied.

Her cheeks flushed pink. No one had ever looked at her the way Bradford did, with such sincerity and adoration. She realized then that she belonged to him. Her heart and soul were irrefutably his.

Propriety cautioned against voicing the words on the tip of her tongue, but her heart would not be silenced. “I love you,” she whispered.

Bradford’s face lit up. He pulled her closer and brought his lips to hers in a lingering, passionate kiss. When they finally parted, breathless, he murmured against her mouth, “I love you too, my darling Skye. More than you could ever know.” He took her hand and held it against his bare chest. “Marry me, my darling Skye.”

Skye’s heart soared at his words. She had never expected to find a love like this. She smiled up at the man who had seen and accepted her, imperfections and all, then said, “Yes, Bradford,” her voice filled with joy and certainty. “I will marry you.”

“I am taking you straight to Scotland and making you my marchioness the moment the roads are cleared.” He rolled her onto her back, settling between her thighs as he trailed kisses across her cheek before murmuring, “You have made me the happiest of men.”

Smiling, Skye wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her hips up to welcome him. “And you, my love, have made all of my dreams come true.”

Bradford slowly thrust into her warm, inviting depths, and as they moved together, time seemed to stand still. No doubts, no fears, no regrets—just pure, unconditional love.

They had both been handed a second chance at love, and there was no longer any doubt it was real. They were meant to be, and they knew it. Nothing could keep them from embracing the joy fate had placed in their path.

Sated, they settled back into each other’s arms, both silently contemplating how profoundly their lives had changed in such a short time. The future, once shrouded in loneliness, now seemed bright with promise—a chance to heal old wounds and build a new life together.