Page 234 of Of Iron and Moonlight

“It’s beautiful,” Kora murmured, eyes still fixed on the wintry view beyond the glass.

“My grandfather had it built,” Duncan said softly near her ear, “for when the family wished to disappear.” He unclasped her cloak and let it slide from her shoulders, then bent to place another kiss. This one at the base of her neck, lingering long enough for her breath to catch.

“And no one knows about it?” Kora asked, failing to conceal the delight in her voice.

“Very few,” Duncan said. Then, between kisses trailing along her throat, “Family. Merrick. Council. Osric tends to it himself throughout the year.”

“And there is truly no one else here?” Kora asked, turning within the circle of his arms to face him fully. “Not a single cook or maid or footman?”

“Not a single soul, Mrs. derWhitte,” Duncan replied, brushing his lips lightly over hers. “The Council will join us here for Stormveil. But I thought we deserved a few days to ourselves first.”

“You thought right, Mr. derWhitte,” Kora murmured.

Duncan kissed her again, this time with far less restraint than before.

Kora allowed herself to dissolve into the moment, each breath drawing her awareness further from the world and into a space where nothing existed except the love between them and the quiet pull neither wished to resist.

Before long, their winter layers lay scattered across the floor, and they found themselves on the plush rug, Duncan gathering her against his chest. Limbs loosely tangled as the heat of their bodies held against the winter chill.

Kora rested her head beneath his jaw, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I didn’t know winter could feel both so cold and so warm at the same time,” she murmured drowsily, tracing idle patterns across his chest and over the new scar along his stomach.

A soft laugh rumbled through him. “I don’t believe it usually does.” He brushed a hand through her hair, letting the strands fall softly along her shoulder before leaving a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. “But then again, I’ve never spent a winter quite like this.”

She shifted to look at him. “Like this?” she whispered teasingly.

“With you,” he said. “Not pretending to be anything for the sake of everyone else.”

Kora felt her heart soften at the words. “Never pretend with me.”

Duncan kissed her forehead. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“Nor I you.” She smiled, then hesitated. “I only wish I were… a normal human woman. I carry this sliver of fae blood. I bring strange occurrences with me.” She swallowed. “I don’t know what to make of myself, and it frightens me.”

He stilled for a moment, then pulled her up so they were seated facing each other.

“You brought mischief and magic, in every sense of both words, back into my life,” he said after a pause. “I do not care whose blood runs in your veins. Human or fae. Iron or moonlight.” He brushed his thumb lightly along the green stone below her throat. “I am simply happy you are here. That tomorrow I’ll wake beside you. Whatever frightens you, we face it together.”

Kora bowed her head, her throat tightening with affection.

He lifted her chin gently in protest.

“You are of Lemierre now,” he said softly. “You are mine.”

“And you are mine,” she murmured. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, letting the certainty in his voice tend to the places within her that had not yet fully healed. “How did we ever exist in the world without each other?”

Duncan smiled, tired and deeply content. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, and settled them back on the floor. “We didn’t,” he said quietly, already drifting to sleep. “Not really.”

Kora opened her eyes to morning light spilling through the windows. Dust motes drifted lazily through the air. At some point in the night, Duncan had risen to light the hearth and draw blankets over them both. He still slept beside her, one arm heavy around her waist. His face, so often hardened by command, looked younger now.

She pressed her lips to his shoulder, then slipped from the rug, wrapped one of the throws around herself, and walked to the windows to admire the view. The forest stretched outward in silent splendor, frost glimmering faintly along the ground. The wool hung heavy on her frame and carried the scent of him. Leather. Cedar. Steel.

“Awake so soon?”

Kora turned, a bemused grin on her face. “We’ve slept nearly an entire day.”

“A day?” Duncan rubbed a hand across his face and gave a faint grunt. “No wonder I am famished.” He paused. “Not a word of this to Osric. He would never let me hear the end of it.”

She laughed, surprising herself with how easily it came.