Extended Epilogue
“Lenore, are you sure the robin belongs right at the top?” Selene asked, handing her the delicate porcelain bird.
“Papa said robins bring good luck, Mama! And it has to go high so it can see everything.” Lenore tilted her head, scrutinizing the tree, her small fingers clutching the ornament.
“Oh, did he now?” Selene smiled, watching her stepdaughter’s face light up as she carefully placed the bird near the very top. “Then that’s the perfect spot.”
Just then, Ian entered the room, his gaze softening as he watched them arranging the tree. “And here I thought I’d find my wife and daughter surrounded by ribbons and ornaments,” he teased, stepping closer. “Looks like you’ve nearly completed the masterpiece without me.”
Lenore turned, beaming. “Papa, you’re just in time! We saved the big golden star for last.”
“The star,” he repeated with mock solemnity, lifting her up. “Where shall we put it, Lady Lenore?”
Lenore considered this as if it were the most important decision of her life. “Right at the top,” she declared, reaching out and placing the star, her little fingers straightening it carefully.
Selene chuckled, stepping back to admire the scene, feeling a warmth spread through her. It was more than the glow from the tree’s candles; it was a feeling of wholeness she had never dared to dream.
Ian lowered Lenore to the floor, ruffling her hair. “Excellent choice. Now, I trust you’ve left a branch or two for me to decorate?”
Lenore put her hands on her hips, pretending to be stern. “Mama and I did all the hard work, Papa. But we saved you some ginger biscuits to decorate in the kitchen,” she added with a knowing grin. “But you have to be quick, or Mrs. Kittles might finish them all herself.”
“Indeed? I better hurry then,” Ian said, his mouth quirking in amusement as he glanced at Selene. “Would you two mind terribly if I joined you for this fine gingerbread art?”
Selene laughed softly. “I suppose we could make room for one more artist.”
Lenore threw her hands in the air, delighted. “It’s decided then!” She began skipping toward the door. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Kittles we’re ready!”
As she disappeared around the corner, Ian’s hand found its way to Selene’s waist, pulling her close. “Alone at last,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. “And here I was thinking I’d need to wait until after dinner to steal a moment with my beautiful wife.”
Selene smiled, feeling the familiar thrill at his touch even after all these years. “Bold of you, Your Grace, considering our daughter could return any moment.”
“Ah, but it’s worth the risk,” he replied, lowering his mouth to hers. Their kiss deepened, a quiet promise shared between them in the warm glow of the room.
They broke apart reluctantly as the distant sound of Lenore’s laughter echoed from the kitchen, reminding them of the happy family they had become.
“Come, Duchess,” Ian said, offering his arm with a gleam in his eye. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint our artist-in-chief waiting for us in the kitchen.”
The kitchen was bustling with warmth and delicious scents, filled with trays of biscuits waiting to be iced and dusted with sugar. Lenore was already seated at the large wooden table, her face a study in concentration as she carefully spooned thick white icing onto a gingerbread man.
“Ah, there they are!” Mrs. Kittles said with a wink as Selene and Ian walked in. “I was starting to think you’d both vanished with the decorations.”
Ian chuckled, guiding Selene to a chair beside Lenore. “Only taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork of our resident artists,” he said, giving Lenore a proud look.
Lenore grinned, nudging the gingerbread man toward her father. “Papa, you should make one too! This one is me.” She pointed to the biscuit she had just finished decorating, complete with sugar-dusted curls. “And Mama’s is here.” She held up a gingerbread woman decorated with a blue sugar ribbon.
Selene smiled, watching her. “I look very dignified,” she noted, playfully raising an eyebrow at Lenore’s artful representation.
“Thank you,” Lenore replied proudly. “But Papa’s needs a crown!” She handed him a gingerbread shape with a toothy grin. “You’re the duke, after all.”
“Indeed,” Ian said, taking the challenge seriously. He dipped his spoon into a pot of rich, dark icing, carefully crafting a regal crown atop the biscuit. “Fit for a king, wouldn’t you say?”
Lenore laughed, clapping her hands. “Perfect! We’ll save this one for last.”
As they worked, Selene noticed the gentle, loving glances Ian cast her way, moments when he’d brush his hand against hers as they reached for the same spoon or share a quiet laugh. Every small touch felt like a reminder of how far they had come, from the days of bickering and unspoken tension to the love they now shared openly.
Mrs. Kittles approached with a steaming pot of spiced cider, filling three mugs and setting them on the table. “This should keep you warm,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she watched them.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kittles,” Selene said warmly, taking a sip and savoring the sweetness of the cider.
Lenore took a long gulp, her nose wrinkling at the spice. “Mama, will you show me how to make these next year?”
Selene placed her hand over Lenore’s. “Of course, my darling. It can be our new Christmas tradition.”
Ian reached over, covering both their hands with his own. “A tradition I’ll happily join in on,” he said, his voice soft with a tenderness that brought a glow to Selene’s cheeks. “Nothing would make me happier.”
As the day wore on and the sun dipped low, the family gathered in the drawing room, settling in by the crackling fire. Lenore, rosy-cheeked from the excitement of the day, curled up with a book, occasionally glancing up to beam at her parents. Ian poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Selene as they stood watching their daughter.
“To us,” he murmured, lifting his glass.
“To us,” she replied, feeling the warmth of the fire and the moment settle over her.
After a few quiet sips, he leaned close, his voice low. “Perhaps you’d join me for a walk before dinner, Duchess?”
Selene’s heart fluttered at his tone. “I’d love to.”
They slipped out into the garden, where the world was blanketed in the soft, glowing light of the late afternoon. A dusting of snow covered the hedges, and the air was crisp, invigorating. Ian pulled her close as they strolled, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
“It seems we’ve made a good life here,” he said quietly, gazing at her. “I look at Lenore, at the peace on her face, and I think—this is what I had dreamed of, even if I hadn’t known it.”
Selene smiled, tilting her head up to him. “You’ve given us both so much, Ian. Lenore and I have everything we could have ever hoped for, and it’s all because of you.”
He shook his head, his gaze deepening. “No, my love. You brought the joy back into this house, into my life. Without you, none of this would have been possible.”
He turned her toward him, his hands framing her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “You saved me, Selene.”
She reached up, touching his hand, and closed her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, the tender warmth of his lips meeting hers in a way that felt as natural as breathing. Their kiss deepened, their breath mingling in the winter air, and when they broke apart, Ian’s gaze was filled with desire.
“Shall we take the long way back?” he asked, his voice thick with promise.
Selene laughed softly, nodding as he guided her toward the secluded pathway leading to the small garden pavilion, hidden from view. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his hand in hers, and her pulse quickened at the thought of what lay ahead.
The pavilion was quiet and private, its stone walls sheltering them from the winter chill. The only sounds were their breaths and the soft rustle of their coats as Ian pulled her into his arms. His gaze flickered with a familiar heat as he lifted her chin, letting his fingertips brush her skin in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough as he leaned down to capture her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. The warmth of his mouth and the insistence of his hands at her waist had her melting against him, forgetting the cold entirely.
“Then let me remind you,” she whispered, her hands slipping beneath his coat, pressing against the warmth of his chest. She could feel the strong beat of his heart, steady and constant, and it filled her with a heady mix of love and desire.
Ian’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over hers with a raw hunger that spoke of all the love and passion they had shared. His fingers traced the curve of her back, and she gasped as his hands slid lower, lifting her so that she was pressed flush against him.
The heat between them flared, intense and all-consuming, as he lowered her gently onto a bench cushioned with blankets he had clearly thought to place there earlier. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with longing as he slowly undid the fastenings of her coat, his gaze never leaving hers.
“You are exquisite, Selene,” he breathed, his hands tracing the contours of her body as he slipped her coat from her shoulders.
She shivered, not from the cold but from the thrill of his touch, as he leaned down, pressing kisses along her collarbone, her neck, and finally back to her lips, each kiss more fervent than the last. Her hands roamed his back, feeling the strength of him, the solid warmth of his body as he joined her on the makeshift bed they had created together.
Their breaths mingled in the cool air, and Selene felt herself losing all sense of time, of place, as his hands and lips made her forget everything but this moment, this love they shared. They moved together, a familiar yet thrilling rhythm building between them, and as their passion peaked, she held him tightly, her heart soaring with the knowledge that this was where she belonged, now and always.
As they lay together afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms beneath the blankets, Ian gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes tender and filled with adoration.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Merry Christmas,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper, her heart filled to overflowing with joy.
THE END