Page 89 of The Wayward Duke

Julian clasped his hands over his heart. “I would never interfere with my son’s rest.” At her pointed look, he amended, “At least, not more than once a week. Twice at most.”

Laughing, Caroline collapsed onto her back and tugged their sleepy-eyed younger son beside her. Julian watched her stroke the cowlicks back from his forehead. Watched the boy nuzzle her.

While the boys drifted to sleep in the grass, Caroline joined Julian on the blanket. She sighed as she settled against his side. Julian curled an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. She came willingly, fitting their bodies together with the ease of long practice. No space was left between them for ghosts to creep through.

“If they don’t sleep after all that frolicking, I may have to procure one or two dogs to keep them entertained,” she mused. “I’ll resort to begging, borrowing, or stealing if I have to.”

Julian made an agreeable noise, then dropped a kiss to her temple. “Just one or two? I suspect you’ll need three at least. Then perhaps their poor, exhausted parents can manage a lie-in.”

She nipped his jaw in reproach. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

“We have to use euphemisms now that Henry has decided to mimic everything we say.”

He drew her down for a kiss. As she melted into him, Julian softened his grip, mindful of their audience nearby. When they finally eased apart, her cheeks were flushed.

“Behave. Unless you want the boys telling everyone in the village how their parents kiss.”

Julian winced. “God forbid. Can you imagine?”

“Hm. Seeing your stern façade crack might be worth it.” Her eyes danced. “Remember when John blurted out that word he learned from the stable master?”

“I thought Percy might faint into the soup tureen.”

In the lengthening afternoon shadows, their boys slumbered on. Grass stains marked the fine linen of their little lordling suits. And Julian and Caroline would soak up every skinned knee and muddy coat while they could.

As if sensing his pensive mood, she gave his fingers another squeeze. “What is it?”

Julian studied their clasped hands. Traced the elegant outline where her wedding ring encircled her fourth finger. That band of gold made his throat ache even now.

“Only reminiscing,” he said. He crushed her close, burying his face in her neck. Just breathing her in. “I love you, duchess.”

Words that came so easily. Spoken so often in the five years since they’d retaken their vows skin to skin in London.

Caroline eased back, smoothing her thumb over the furrow between his brows. “There, that’s better. Now you almost resemble a man whose two young sons actually let him sleep.”

“Get the three dogs, my duchess.” He leaned in and whispered, “If they’re outside playing, I can take you in every damn room I please.”

Her wicked grin flashed. Before she could respond, their sons—who had just been sleeping only moments before—suddenly ploughed into them in a tangle of gangly boy limbs. Laughter and bold demands for dinner drowned out tender words.

“Four dogs,” Caroline called over her shoulder as she chased Henry and John. “Perhaps a dozen other animals. A menagerie. We may need reinforcements.”

He sighed, wanting to kiss her, but there would be time enough for that later.

For now, Julian didn’t mind the interruption.