She smiled tentatively and touched her lips again. “No, that’s not what I meant. They will see the evidence. You know how easily I bruise.”
“Did I hurt you, my love?” He cursed himself for being an uncontrolled lecher, tugged her close, and kissed her forehead. “I would never willingly do so. You know that, don’t you?” He pulled back so he could see her face.
“Of course I do.” This time her smile was mischievous. “Hurt me again.”
And wolfishly, he did. This time, when he finally let her go, he wondered how either of them were going to be able to return to the soiree. They would be fodder for endless gossip. He could hear them now disdaining a married couple who were actually in love.
“Come sit with me, and we’ll give ourselves some time to recompose.” He touched her swollen lips, and she kissed his fingers. “Elizabeth,” he growled in warning. His blood would never cool if she continued to look at him like that. He led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. “It is good to see the rose in your cheeks. You were exceptionally pale when I arrived, and I worried this gathering had put too much of a strain on you. I do apologize. It was a thick-witted idea.”
“Not at all, my dearest. A husband who remembers an anniversary is special. One who wishes to celebrate it is a rare find.”
He kissed her cheek, feeling as young and in love as when they’d first met five years ago. He’d been able to claim her as his own now for three years, and the glow that warmed him at the mere thought of her did not dull. She entwined her fingers in his.
“And we have much to celebrate,” she said quietly. She shifted their hands to her midriff and clasped them with her other hand, holding them tightly to her stomach. “Much to celebrate.”
Richard’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Dare he hope? “You are…? We are…?”
She nodded, her eyes shimmering in the dull light. “We are, Lord Thornwood. Finally.”
He pulled her close, biting back the emotion clogging his throat, making it impossible to speak. It was all he’d dreamed of in his young years. To hear the voices of other children ringing off these old walls. And now it was going to happen. His children. Her children.Theirchildren. “Thank you,” he finally managed to whisper into her hair.
“Oh, Richard,” she whispered back. “This is only the beginning.”