Page 45 of Complete Me

“It is.” A smug smile carved over his handsome features. Not for the first time, she hoped the baby looked like him with his inky black hair and crystal blue eyes. There were worse things than carrying the child of a human sex god who worshiped you, she thought, even if he could be an arrogant prick sometimes.

Her hand found the one resting on her belly and she covered it, holding him there in that sacred spot. Alexander's eyes closed, a reverent calm overcoming his features, as if he was holding vigil.

“Happy Christmas,” Clara whispered. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. She hadn’t bought him a single present. She couldn’t help but wonder if she should plead hormonal insanity in the morning or confess now. “I have to warn you, I don’t have anything to give you.”

He popped one eye open, then the other and the love reflecting from them nearly blinded her. “Clara, you’ve given me everything.”

22

The entire family was gathered into the parlor that evening. Their number had doubled throughout the course of the day, and now they were complete. It was an odd mish-mash of people and a few they suspected might show, like Alexander's grandmother or his friend, Brexton, were nowhere to be found.

But Belle's heart was full. She had spent plenty of Christmas Eves drowning her sorrows with a stolen bottle of wine while avoiding her mother. Last year had been the first holiday that she had not spent at the Stuart family estate. Now getting to spend her Christmas Eve with the people she cherished most, she knew that breaking that tradition had been the right choice.

In the past, she had been desperate for her mother's approval. She'd sought it by agreeing to a marriage that would bolster their family standing and ensure the financial security of Stuart Hall. Now Belle chalked it up to being young and foolish. She knew it ran deeper than that, though. She had wanted to be loved and, without understanding what that really meant, she had been willing to overlook how people like her mother and Philip treated her in return for the illusion of it. When she had ended things with her ex-fiancé, it took her a long time to accept that some people didn't change.

As a girl, she had wanted to believe that if she did the things her mother asked, she would be loved in return. Now as she looked around this room full of people who had been there for her through every up and down, a firm conviction settled over her. She'd heard it said before, but now she truly understood what it meant to choose her own family. They were an imperfect bunch, to be sure, but they were hers and she wouldn't give them up for anything.

Elizabeth crawled over and used Belle's knees to pull herself into a standing position.

“Clever girl,” Belle praised, picking her up under her arms and placing the baby in her lap. “You take after your auntie.”

Holding her, Belle knew that accepting nothing less than loyalty and unconditional love was her destiny to claim. That seemed a particularly important realization to come to as she considered the leap into motherhood.

Elizabeth caught a lock of her blonde hair and tugged on it, trying to pull it toward her mouth. Belle shook her head, clucking softly and maneuvered it away, only to have Elizabeth catch her palm. The baby seemed content to try to put that in her mouth instead.

Belle couldn't help but laugh as joy flooded through her. When she felt eyes burning across the room, she lifted her own to find Smith watching her with the baby through hooded eyelids. He drank in the sight before him, which was something Belle didn't mind doing herself.

Her husband had opted to dress down in a charcoal sweater and a pair of jeans. He didn't usually wear things that were so casual, and she made it a point to let him know exactly how she felt about the way his ass looked in those pants. As soon as they returned to London, there was going to be a whole new drawer of jeans waiting for him.

His gaze didn't waver from her. Even from a distance, she could see the fierce desire in his emerald eyes. Heat creeped under her cheeks as she recalled welcoming him to Balmoral earlier this afternoon.

It had been easy to slip away, given Alexander’s boisterous entrance. Smith had caught her attention from the doorway, and while everyone laughed as Clara was carried off to her bedroom, Belle and Smith made their way to theirs.

“You’re here,” she whispered as soon as they were alone.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He dropped her hand and paced the length of the room. Her heart leapt into her throat. She’d worried that there was a reason he had insisted on staying behind in London. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was grappling with guilt now.

“Tell me,” she pressured him.

“I saw Georgia,” he began, but when she opened her mouth to ask questions, he stopped her. “Let me finish. She had information about the man who killed Hammond.”

“Whoever killed Hammond did us all a favor,” Belle said coldly. She could spare no remorse for a man who had never showed her an ounce of humanity. He had been a monster and they were better off with him gone.

“You and Georgia are so alike,” he muttered, but when Belle’s eyes narrowed, he hurriedly took it back.

Belle sensed her husband needed to confess, and she would gladly absolve him. She trusted him to do what was right for both of them, even if her heart raced with apprehension. “Did you kill him?”

“I turned him in,” he said to Belle’s surprise. “I found your notes—in the gun.”

She had placed them there on instinct. Smith had given her so much. If the only thing she ever granted him in return was the faith to believe in choice, she might be able to repay him.

There would be a time to ask for particulars, but she wouldn’t force him to process all of his feelings at once. Instead, she began to unbutton her blouse. Smith moved to face her and followed suit. They didn’t touch each other as they undressed. Instead, they stripped slowly until they stood with nothing between them.

He would have done it—for her. The thought that this man would kill to protect her was almost as hot as the fact that he didn’t. If he had any doubt about his choice, she would erase it by placing her body in his hands.

Edward dropped onto the couch beside her, interrupting her daydream.

“You're looking rather heated,” he pointed out. “Do I need to turn down the boiler or is this something that can’t be helped?” Belle’s eyes flickered to her husband, and Edward groaned. “That's what I thought.”