Page 145 of The Duke's Mysterious Baby
“I’m carrying your child. Our child.”
He stared at her, then at his hand, as though the world had rearranged itself without consulting him.
“You’re certain?” he asked, not because he doubted her, but because the weight of it demanded reverence.
“Yes.”
The word felt solid in her mouth.Real.
He swallowed. His other hand tightened on her waist, not possessive, but grounding—as though anchoring himself.
“Oh,” he breathed.
Then he pulled her into him, sudden and fierce, one hand cradling her back, pulling her close enough that she could feel his heartbeat through his shirt.
“We will not ruin this,” he murmured into her hair, his voice rough. “I refuse to let fear touch it. Not this. Not you.”
She laughed softly, emotion clogging her throat. “That sounds like a vow.”
“I’m very serious about my vows,” he stated. “Especially the ones I choose.”
She pulled back just enough to see his face. His eyes were bright. There was humor there, yes, but also awe. And something like reverence that made her chest ache.
“You aren’t afraid?” she asked, the question slipping free before she could stop it.
He huffed a breath. “I amterrified.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“But,” he continued, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing the dampness beneath her lashes, “I have never wanted anything more in my life.”
Her breath shook.
“We’ll do this properly,” he said. “Together. With honesty. With patience. With more chairs than you think necessary.”
She smiled through her tears. “You’ll insist I sit.”
“Relentlessly.”
She giggled, the sound muffled against his coat. “That’s very commanding of you.”
“I am excellent at managing crises,” he said. “Ask anyone.”
The knot in her chest loosened.
She smiled again, her eyes stinging. “You didn’t even pretend to be calm.”
“I am profoundly not calm,” he said. “But I am very certain.”
She leaned into his touch, the fear she had carried fading at last. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You told me perfectly,” he assured her. “You always do.”
He kissed her then, slow and sure, his hands warm and anchoring. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers and breathed her in, as if committing the moment to memory.
“I love you,” he murmured.
She smiled. “I know. You’re very bad at hiding it.”
“Rude,” he chided, kissing her again.
When they came up for air, she closed her eyes, pressing her hand over his heart. “I love you, too.”
The fire crackled softly as the house slept. And in the quiet, they stayed exactly where they were, as though neither could imagine being anywhere else.
The End?
