Page 128 of Taming the Charming Duke

A stable boy approached to take Tempest, hesitating only briefly before Dorian released the reins. The boy looked surprised by the ease of it, as though he had been expecting more instructions or more control.

“There is no need to overthink it,” Dorian said.

The boy nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Anne watched the exchange, then moved closer to him as the horse was led away.

“You did not correct him,” she said.

“He did not make a mistake.”

“You used to correct everything.”

Dorian looked toward the stables for a moment before answering, “I used to think that was the best way to show that I care.”

Anne did not respond immediately. Instead, she reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were warm against his, and his were steady in a way that no longer surprised her, though it still affected her more than she cared to admit.

They began walking together toward the house, the gravel crunching quietly beneath their shoes, the evening air settling around their shoulders.

“Do you ever think about how strange it is that everything changed so quickly?” Anne asked after a moment.

Dorian considered the question as they walked, the house growing closer with each step.

“No,” he replied. “If anything, I think about how long it took. I wish that I had seen sense immediately, so that we could have been this way from the beginning.”

“You need not punish yourself. After all, if we had not faced difficulties, we would not appreciate our lives now as much as we do.”

As soon as they reached the front steps, the door swung open, and warm light spilled out into the evening. Anne stopped there for a moment, not because she hesitated but because she found herself noticing something she had not expected to feel so clearly.

This was no longer a place she returned to. It was a place shebelongedto.

Dorian stepped up beside her, releasing her hand only to brush her shoulder gently with his fingertips as she looked up at the house.

“It feels like home,” she murmured.

Dorian turned slightly toward her. For a moment, he did not speak. He no longer felt the urge to contradict that, no longer felt the need to be protected from the truth of it. He lifted his hand instead, resting it briefly on her back.

“It is,” he agreed softly.

And this time, when they stepped inside together, Anne did not fear that she was mistaken in what she believed, because what she had found in her husband was not something that could be taken away.

The End?