Chapter 40
By the time they got home, the day had begun to soften into evening.
Rune moved about the kitchen while Dorian answered a few emails from the dining table.
It had become their quiet rhythm—he cooked simple meals that didn't upset her stomach, he set the table, and by the time they sat down together, it always felt oddly peaceful.
Halfway through dinner, Dorian suddenly looked up. "Rune," he said. "Would you ever consider coming back to work for me?" She blinked. "Are you crazy?"
He smiled faintly. "Possibly. But hear me out.
I know you well enough to know you won't be happy sitting at home forever, unless you want that, which is fine.
But if you ever get restless... there's a place for you.
Tom's brilliant, but maybe you can figure out what you'd like to do next.
I could give you an office on the same floor. We could even have lunch together."
Rune arched an eyebrow. "Lunch together? Dorian, aren't we assuming a bit much?"
He leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement. "Maybe. But it'll give me more time to wear you down into marrying me."
She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a mysterious smile.
"I know what I want." He hesitated for a moment, then added more softly, "Have you ever known me to give up once I have made up my mind about something?
When she remained quiet, he sighed and asked, "Have you started thinking of names?"
Rune nodded, a shy smile touching her lips. "A few."
"I have some too," he said, grinning. "But we'll compare lists later. I'll let you win, obviously."
"Of course you will," she said dryly, gathering their plates.
They moved upstairs not long after. The comfortable rhythm continued, she brushed her teeth while he showered, utterly unbothered by her teasing remarks about his lack of modesty.
When he emerged, towelling his hair dry, she was already in bed with a book.
He turned off the light and climbed in behind her, drawing her gently against him.
His hand settled around her waist, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
His erection pressed against her back, but he made no move to take it further, beyond gently cupping her breast. They both lay pressed together, enjoying the sensation of skin against warm skin.
For a while they just lay there, the house quiet except for the sound of the rain beginning again and the creak of timber. Rune felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the calm rhythm of a life that had somehow begun to fit around them both.
She smiled sleepily. "You're still thinking about names, aren't you?"
"Maybe," he murmured. "Go to sleep, Rune."
She drifted off with his heartbeat against her back and the unfamiliar sense that she was home.
***
Morning light spilled across the room in thin, gold lines. Rune stirred, feeling the warmth of Dorian's arm around her, the familiar weight of his body close behind hers as his morning wood pressed insistently against her back. She could get used to this.
Her wandering hand lazily closed around him and lazily explored his steely length, making him stir and gasp with pleasure.
She felt his hands tighten around her waist before they travelled up to cup her breast and play with her sensitive nipple.
Somewhere between waking and dreaming, she pressed her hips back against him.
Their foreheads brushed as he kissed her cheek, and the rest of the world seemed to blur.
Then he urgently lifted her leg to shove a pillow between her thighs.
She could feel him guide himself to her moist opening before pressing in while one hand bracing her belly gently.
Her inner muscles parted easily for him.
The hand on her belly wandered downwards to press circles against her engorged clit.
He moved his hips in short thrusts until he was fully sheathed inside her.
"I love you," she murmured without thinking, half-asleep, half-awake, on the verge of climax.
Everything stilled.
Dorian froze, the arm banded around her breasts reaching her chin to turn her face to his. His eyes searched hers with a burning question. "What did you just say?" he asked, his voice low but roughened by something deeper.
Rune blinked, suddenly aware of what she'd said. "I..."
"Say it again," he said, the words almost a plea as his hips moved in urgent thrusts.
Her heart thudded in her chest. "Dorian..."
"Please," he whispered.
She hesitated, then reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing the faint shadow of stubble there. "I love you."
His eyes closed for a moment, as if he were memorising the sound of it before his hips moved in urgent thrusts ,tipping them both over to a blinding orgasm. When he looked at her again, the fierceness in his expression had softened into something raw and somehow full of gratitude.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Because I'm not letting you take it back."
She smiled, her face breaking into a sudden warmth in her chest. "I wasn't planning to."
He exhaled, forehead coming to rest against hers, and for a long time they stayed like that-no walls, no pretence-just the fragile, extraordinary simplicity of being loved and believing it.
***
Months later...
The London trip had gone better than any of them expected.
Gramps' knees and Nana's wrists had healed beautifully, the surgeries smooth and uneventful.
They'd stayed for several weeks in Dorian's Kensington townhouse, a place with high ceilings, marble floors, and a garden that looked too perfect to be real.
He'd treated her grandparents as if they were his own—patient with Nana's stories, indulgent with Gramps' endless curiosity about his "fancy house gadgets." Rune had watched him help her grandfather into the lift, hand steady under his elbow, and she'd thought, so this is what change looks like.
They'd planned to return together, but her blood pressure had been slightly high.
The doctor insisted she rest a few extra days, and Dorian took that as a personal mission.
He arranged a private nurse, kept a running log of her meals, and was one blood test away from installing a cardiac monitor.
Her grandparents went back ahead of them, promising to continue the physiotherapy at home.
Dorian had already arrange for regular private sessions on the farm.
Now, the flat seemed too large once they'd gone, the silence broken only by Dorian's low voice murmuring to his laptop or the rustle of papers.
Dorian himself was on edge in the weeks to come.
One night, Rune woke to find the other side of the bed empty. A faint glow spilled from the living room. Dorian was pacing, barefoot, hair mussed, a half-empty glass of whiskey abandoned on the side table.
She padded over and slipped her arms around him from behind, as far as her rounded belly would allow.
"Can't sleep?" she whispered as she rested her face against his back.
He stiffened, then relaxed, his hands coming to rest over hers. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Too late." She rested her cheek against his back. "What's wrong?"
He hesitated. "Just... thinking."
"About?"
He turned then, his eyes shadowed. "About you. About the baby. About Angel...and how she died. About
Ophelia. I can’t believe she is gone. I keep worrying something will happen to you."
Rune looked up at him, startled by the raw fear in his voice.
"Everyone leaves in the end," he said quietly. "And Ophelia is gone as well. I just..." His throat worked. "I can't lose you too."
Her heart twisted with sympathy. "You won't," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't know that."
"Maybe not," she said, pressing a kiss into his back, "but I just know."
He let out a shaky breath before turning and resting his forehead against hers. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her breast.
"Let's go back to bed," she murmured.
***
In the weeks that followed, Dorian changed in ways she wouldn't have believed possible.
He'd reconciled with Ophelia, who had once been like a grandmother to him.
Rune had met her before she passed. To Rune's surprise, she'd taken a liking to her almost instantly, fussing over her as if trying to make up for lost time.
Ophelia had also forgiven Dorian, at least, mostly, for his treatment of Aria.
Crispin, too, had made peace. With Dorian's help and, surprisingly, Aria's, he'd taken over the company.
Alice, always the pragmatic one, had sided with her brother, quietly grateful that the old wounds were finally closing.
So, when Crispin invited them for a small celebration, Rune had encouraged Dorian to go. He came home late, smelling of whisky, his tie crooked, his smile a little loopy when he crept into bed beside her.
Rune was already in bed reading when he stumbled in, tugging at his cuffs.
"How did it go? " she asked.
He grinned, the charming, dangerous kind of grin she'd learned to be wary of. "Missed me?"
"Terribly," she said dryly.
He reached into his pocket and fumbled with something. "Hold out your hand."
"Dorian, you're drunk."
"Hand."
Sighing, she held it out. He caught it in both of his hands, his touch warm and unsteady. When she realised what he was doing, her eyes widened.
"Dorian-"
"Shh." He slid a massive solitaire ring onto her finger, his gaze intent. "You're not allowed to refuse."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not taking it off. You're not leaving." His words were thick and slurred. "You love me. I know you do. And I would do anything for you, even tear my own heart out. So, you can't say no. You are not allowed. Or I have a pair of shiny handcuffs for you to try."
Rune stared at him, torn between exasperation and something far too tender. "That’s not how things work."
He smiled crookedly, then leaned down and kissed her hand before promptly collapsing beside her on the bed, still in his suit.
The next morning, she found him squinting at the sunlight, muttering under his breath. She handed him two aspirins and a glass of water.
"You look like death warmed up," she observed.
"Feel like it." He groaned and sat up slowly. Then his gaze fell to her hand, and his gaze was instantly wary.
"What...what happened last night?"
Rune lifted her hand so the ring caught the light. "Nothing much," she said, lips twitching.
He blinked. "Did I-?"
"Yes. You were very unconventional. Your ancestors must have had to resort to kidnapping their brides. With your finesse, I doubt they had much luck otherwise."
"Oh, hell", he said, covering his eyes with his hands.
She tilted her head, pretending to study the ring. "A leopard doesn't change its spots, Dorian. You bullied me into this."
He winced, rubbing his temples. "I am not taking it back."
She laughed softly, setting the water down. "I did not offer to give it back."
For now, though, she leaned in and kissed his temple. "Go back to sleep, Mr Albury. You've had quite a night."
He mumbled something into the pillow, and by the time she slipped out of the room, he was already asleep again, one arm thrown across the bed, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth.