Chapter 22: Not the End (Part 2 of 2)

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Dedicated to a random commenter lisa_london_ - Thanks for all your wonderful comments. ❤️ No crocodiles in this chapter for you, but there's a pony! If anyone is a fan of Game of Thrones, Lisa writes the best GoT fanfics, with some wiiiild spin-offs.

Early update! Now... despite the misleading chapter title, this is in fact the last chapter of this story.

Chapter 22: Not the End (Part 2 of 2)

The home Amelia returned to was nothing like the home she'd departed from.

Her father had dismissed the servants all those months ago when he caught wind that Warren's men were coming from him. The result was an unkempt Marlborough House, with a layer of dust blanketing the beds and furniture, the gardens overgrown with weed. And a cranky Amelia who was forced to do half a day's worth of dusting and wiping and changing of sheets.

After what felt like never-ending hours of arduous labour, she collapsed into her old bed, groaning as she stretched out the aches in her arms, her legs, her back and everywhere. If she was so thoroughly worn out already... How sore and fatigued must Drake have been from all the travelling he'd done?

He has left her engulfed with guilt. While she cursed at him, hoped for divorce and bargained with his gold, he was doing so much... for her, for her father, for the kingdom.

And yet... he loved her. Could he really? Really, really?

As she wallowed in remorse and dozed off in exhaustion, distant voices travelled through the empty corridors of the house and entered her dreams.

"... she said you slept with beasts."

"What a hypocrite you've raised, sir. I believe it is a common interest shared between us. She coddles that pony far too much."

"Is that jealousy I hear from the young Emir of Steersberg? Over my daughter's pony?"

In her dream, she could see the muscles of his broad back rippling with his hearty laugh. She hugged a pillow to her face and grinned into it. And dribbled.

"I am rather... enamoured by your daughter."

Her heart skipped a dozen beats.

"As pleased I am to hear of it, I must say, your tastes are quite... eccentric."

"I have no retort for that, sir."

Even their underhanded insults did nothing to diminish the smile playing on her lips, which blossomed into a wide toothy grin.

Until an uninvited, impolite intruder came barging into her sweet dreams and wrested the delectable pillow-man out of her death grip. "I'm here Amelia. You do not need to keep assaulting the pillow with your slobber."

Amelia grunted in protest and opened her eyes to glower at her husband. "What made you think you can measure up to my pillow?"

That was silly. Because he responded by dipping his head and kissing her senseless, a skill that now topped his impressive skill set, proving once and for all that he was by far the more desirable of the two.

When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open to find that the sly bastard had already climbed onto the bed, trapping her body in between his strong legs and looking down at her like a carnivorous predator ready for a four-course meal.

She avoided his intense gaze, suddenly all shy and self-conscious. This was broad daylight, in her old home and her old bedchamber where no man other than her father had ever ventured into. Oh, and she was still wearing the dirt-stained, linen dress she'd borrowed from the servants' quarters for her chores earlier. "Let me... let me, uh, change into something more presen—"

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