Page 122 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Beside him, Emma hugged each of her sisters. The string quartet played Mozart in the background and Vaughan’s inside hummed with contentment.
They accepted well-wishes and said their goodbyes. Today, there was to be no repeat of the wedding breakfast. Instead, he and Emma were to return to Ashford House, where he would finally take her to bed again. They’d held off until now because they’d agreed that it would be nice for their reenactment to be as authentic as possible.
However, as they made their way to the carriage, a familiar—and loathsome—voice called Vaughan’s name. He stiffened.
“Who is it?” Emma asked.
“Keep walking,” he muttered, determined to avoid his cousin Reginald, who was at this moment trotting along the street toward them.
“I say, Ashford, where are you going in such a hurry?” Reginald called in his nasal tone.
With a sigh, Vaughan turned to face him. “Home. What are you doing here?”
Reginald’s rodent-like eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I had to see for myself whether the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?” Vaughan demanded.
Reginald glanced from Vaughan to Emma, obviously gleeful about the fact he knew something Vaughan didn’t.
“The rumors that you’re just as besotted as your pathetic excuse of a father,” Reginald said.
Vaughan braced himself, expecting his old doubts and insecurities to assail him, but to his surprise, he didn’t feel anything other than annoyance. Reginald was trying to get in one final blow because the possibility of his becoming duke was rapidly dissolving.
Emma stepped toward him. “Excuse me? Who are you?”
“Duchess, allow me to introduce my distant cousin, Reginald,” Vaughan said.
“Ah.” She curled her lip as if she’d smelled something rotten. “Is this the same Reginald who will never be invited to our social gatherings?”
“The very one,” Vaughan replied, a grin stealing across his face.
“And who will not be allowed to visit with our son once he is born?” she asked, rubbing her belly in a way that made her meaning obvious.
Reginald paled. “But you cannot know you carry an heir.”
She shrugged. “We intend to have many, many children.”
Vaughan’s grin grew. God, he loved this woman.
“Let’s be on our way,” he said, turning away from his cousin. “We have more important matters to address.”
Reginald sputtered, but they ignored him as they entered the carriage.
Once the door closed, Emma shook her head.“What an odious little man,” she said. “I would never wish social exile on anyone, but he might deserve it.”
Vaughan lifted her and placed her on his lap. Her eyes widened, and she giggled.
“Never mind about him,” he said. “I want a kiss.”
She smiled. “And I am happy to give you one.”
Their lips touched… and clung. A puff of breath escaped her, and he inhaled it into his lungs. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend the rest of his days sharing air with Emma.
“I won’t be satisfied with just the one,” he rasped. “I want all of your kisses.”
She curled into his embrace, her lips a mere inch from his. “Then you shall have them. And I shall have all of yours.”
“Forever and ever, until our last breath.” He nuzzled her. “Now kiss me, my duchess.”
