Page 69 of Everything But the Earl
She really was lovely. A flush came over her cheeks as she looked back at him with her sparkling blue eyes, and even dressed simply, she was gorgeous.
“I was so worried,” he murmured. He put his hands on her face, needing to feel that she was still warm and alive.
“I missed you,” she said.
He could wait no longer. He kissed her.
She put her hands on his shoulders and parted her lips and Owen dove in, needing not just to taste her again but to drink her up. He’d been starving for her, and terrified for weeks, and now she was here in his arms again, and she was alive and by the look of it, mostly well. She tasted like heaven, and she sighed into his mouth, as if she’d been waiting for this for as long as he had, like this kiss was for both of them like a cold drink on a hot day. Owen was happy and relieved and enormously glad he’d decided to come back to Wales.
“I am very glad to see you,” she said, pulling away slightly. “But there is something I must tell you.”
“All right. Tell me.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”
*
Gracewasenormouslyhappy to see Owen. And she was glad that he seemed so happy to see her, that he’d been worried about her when she hadn’t been able to write. His presence here, his eagerness to seeher, that all gave her hope. But she knew she was about to destroy all of that.
She led Owen upstairs, encountering Mary on the way. “How is Dafydd?” Grace asked.
“Still sleeping, my lady,” Mary replied. “Did you need something?”
“No, Mary. I am taking the earl to our rooms now. You are dismissed unless I ring for you.”
Mary curtsied. “Yes, my lady.”
“Who is Dafydd?” Owen asked.
How could she ever explain? “Please have some patience with me,” Grace said instead of explaining. “I should have written you sooner. I didn’t because I knew you were busy in London and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to rush home. When I did finally write to tell you about everything, well, something interrupted, and when I went to post the letter, I got word you were already on your way here. Truly, I wanted to tell you about everything before you arrived home, but I ran out of time, and I do not have the words for how much I regret that.” She didn’t know what else to say. She hoped that the sight of Dafydd would make Owen understand, although she feared he wouldn’t. Everything had seemed so abstract and unreal until Owen was standing before her, in the flesh.
He looked confused. “What is going on?”
Grace couldn’t read Owen’s tone. He didn’t seem angry as such, but he was starting to act a little frustrated.
They arrived at the entrance of her bedchamber. “I’ve moved some furniture.”
“I told you that you could.”
“Yes, but the arrangement is…unorthodox. The staff think I’ve lost my marbles.”
“Have you?”
“I do not believe so. It’s just that this house is so big and…” She knew she could postpone the inevitable no longer. “I understand that traditionally, the nursery is on the third floor, but I could not bear to be so far from him.”
Owen’s eyes grew wide. “The nursery?”
“Owen, you have a son.”
That appeared to break something in him. He stared at her in disbelief for a long moment. “I…what?”
“It was a difficult labor and I have struggled a bit with recovery, but I am getting better by the day, and he’s so perfect. I could not bear to be apart from him much, so I turned the lady’s chamber into a nursery.”
He closed his eyes and then stared at her again. “A son?”
“I had a baby three weeks ago, Owen. I know this must come as a shock. I knew you were busy in London and was reluctant to urge you to return home, but… I was wrong, Owen. It was a mistake not to tell you as soon as I knew myself.”
“There’s a baby?”
