Sunlight streamed through the partially drawn curtains, casting golden ribbons across our bedroom. I stretched lazily under the warm covers, my body pleasantly sore in ways that brought a flush to my cheeks as memories of last night flooded back.
Alaric was already awake beside me, propped up on one elbow, watching me with undisguised adoration.
"Good morning, my love," he murmured, tracing a finger along my bare shoulder.
I smiled up at him, still marveling that this man—this powerful, handsome duke—was mine. "Good morning."
He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my lips. "How are you feeling?"
"Happy," I answered honestly. "And perhaps a bit... tender."
His look of male satisfaction was almost comical. "I believe we both got rather carried away last night."
"I have no regrets," I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I felt an unwelcome twinge of something like doubt flutter in my chest.
