The Mad, Bad Duke (Nvengaria #2)(112)
Damien put his hands on his hips and looked around him. “Are you sure? It has been years. A decade and more, in fact.”
The panther’s rumble became an irritated growl. Meagan turned a serene face to Prince Damien. “Alexander never forgets anything.”
Damien made a conceding gesture. “That is true. Carry on.”
“Besides, his senses are ever so much keener now,” Meagan said. “Alex, dear, make sure the little prince holds on tight.”
The panther continued his prowl, moving carefully to not jostle the two boys on his back. The girl Meagan carried slept on, oblivious to the summer day and the two most important men in the land cutting their way through the woods. She knew only that her mama carried her and that her papa was at their side.
After another five minutes of climbing, they broke through into a clearing. The panther walked ahead after giving Damien a next time, trust me, look from his animal eyes.
Meagan stood at the edge of the clearing in awe. The trees gave way to a beautiful valley containing a clear lake, framed by soaring mountains. Wildflowers covered a meadow, rolling out a carpet of blue, red, yellow, violet, and pink at their feet.
Next to her, Penelope pressed her hands together. “It is absolutely beautiful. You used to come up here, Damien?”
“When we were boys,” Damien answered, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “We’d run out here at the break of dawn, Alexander and I, to fish and pick berries and get into all sorts of trouble.”
At the edge of the lake, the panther gently rolled onto his side, letting the boys slide from his back. Young Alex gave the panther a fond hug, and the little prince patted the big cat’s side.
Meagan hurried down the slope, her mind switching to practicalities. “Alex, dear, give your papa his clothes.”
Alex solemnly held out a bundle hanging from a strap. The panther took the strap in his mouth and loped away beneath a thick stand of trees.
By the time Penelope and Damien and the entourage with the basket reached the lake, Alexander the Grand Duke of Nvengaria had emerged from the woods dressed in breeches, shirt, and boots.
Meagan admired him as he strode to them. She loved when he left the Nvengarian finery behind and wore clothes that showed off his physique. His muscled chest was shadowed in the V of the loose shirt, giving her a glimpse of black hair that curled across his skin. The breeches hugged his thighs in a fine way, and Meagan found it difficult to drag her gaze from them.
“It seems like forever since we last came here,” Damien remarked as he and Alexander strolled side-by-side while the ladies set up their luncheon.
“A long time, certainly,” Alexander agreed. He glanced at his son and Damien’s playing together in the tall grass, the older showing the younger some gentle game. “Things have come full circle.”
Damien nodded. “There was a time I never thought our children would play together.” He bent a glance on his wife and Alexander’s, two women from England who had their heads together, the pair of them giggling over something.
Alexander watched them as well, recalling what had happened the last time he’d caught Meagan and Penelope giggling together, only two nights before this. Meagan had met Alexander in their bedchamber later, having once more strewn it with rose petals and scent. She’d been wearing nothing but a leather and lace corset with a collar of diamonds around her throat.
While he’d stood in stunned silence and feasted his eyes on her, Meagan had blushed deeply. “Do close the door, Alexander, before someone sees me.”
The door had banged behind him instantly, and Alexander had turned the key in the lock.
“Do you not recognize seduction Number Two-Hundred and Twelve?” she’d asked impatiently. “Penelope and I spent all day planning this.”
The lovemaking after that had been nothing short of explosive. Watching Meagan now, whispering with Penelope and throwing mysterious glances at him, made his body stir in anticipation.
“English roses,” Damien said absently.
Alexander snapped his attention back to him. “Pardon?”
Damien gazed at their wives, sun gleaming on Meagan’s red and Penelope’s honey-golden hair. “English roses brought us happiness. And friendship again?”
Alexander had not had much time to speak with Damien alone, as the ten months since he and Meagan had arrived in Nvengaria had been consumed with either political duties or Alexander’s preoccupation with the birth of his second child.
He’d become instantly besotted with is daughter, Annie, and stole as many minutes as he could to be with her, Alex, and Meagan. Alex would grow up to be Grand Duke, and Annie would be a sought-after bride, but Alexander determined that they both would have childhoods, happy ones.
Alexander studied Damien, his oldest friend and a man he’d once considered to be his bitterest enemy. As boys, they’d roamed these woods, as young men, they’d been pulled apart, and then hatred and fear had erected an insurmountable wall between them. At least, they’d believed it insurmountable.
“Your father is dead,” Alexander said as Damien waited, eyes watchful. “He was a monster, and he made us enemies. We should not continue to let him win.”
Damien’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “Precisely what I was about to say. Or at least, very close.” He held out his hand. “Friends?”
Alexander took Damien’s callused hand, and something warm laced his heart. “Friends.”