Page 38 of Wedding the Widow

“My dear! You are not well. Here.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the shadowy sofa. “Sit here, and I will ring for Fisk. He can send a footman for Mr. Putnam.”

“Oh, no, my lord. I truly am well.” She snared his hand as he grabbed his jacket. “I promise you. I came here to return a book and exchange it for something that would be more encouraging to sleep.”

“What were you reading that was keeping you up?”

“The Monk.” She pointed to the volume on the table. “Do you know it?”

Lord Brack chuckled as he settled his jacket over his shoulders.

Elizabeth wished he hadn’t done that. The sight of his dishabille had set her pulse to racing rather pleasantly.

“I do. And I agree it is a book hardly conducive to a peaceful night’s repose.” He sat beside her on the leather sofa and ran a hand through his hair, standing it up on end with a rather appealing, rakish charm.

“So I thought I would find something by Mrs. Amelia Perriwinkle. Her books are always so amusing.” Pulling her wrapper tighter around her, Elizabeth’s awareness of the intimate nature of their situation increased. That she was more strongly attracted to him than ever became clearer every moment she spent in his presence.

“Yes, I believe they are.” His gaze had strayed to her face, fixing on her mouth with a longing that made her stomach clench.

“And why are you here this time of night, my lord? Were you unable to sleep as well?”

He jerked upright, a hint of color in his cheeks. “Not exactly.” A sigh escaped him, and he avoided her eyes. “I was concerned about your welfare when Georgina told me you would not be at dinner. When we returned from Wrotham Park, I was too restless to sleep and came in here for a drink.” He grunted. “Several drinks, if you have not already guessed. Eventually, I took off my jacket to make myself more comfortable and lay down on the sofa. Until you roused me.” He cleared his throat, his gaze shooting back to pin her to the sofa.

Elizabeth coughed, hoping for more time. She wasn’t prepared for this tonight.

“I wish you would tell me the truth, Elizabeth. I am beginning to think you simply wish to avoid me. If it hadn’t been for the episode in church.” Gazing earnestly into her eyes, he ran his thumb gently over her knuckles. “I am worried about you, my love.”

The sweet endearment melted her heart and the last vestige of her resistance. She must tell him. He must know, before they could go forward together. Gathering her courage, she clasped his hands. “I promise you, my lord, I truly am well. You are, however, correct that there was a reason for my swoon earlier.” Drawing herself up, looking him straight in his eager, worried eyes, she said simply, “I am almost certain I am carrying your child.”

Lord Brack blinked rapidly, his brows bunching together as his mouth dropped open. “I . . . I beg your pardon, but I was a bit foxed before. Did you say you are—” His gaze shot to her abdomen, though it was well cloaked by her wrapper. “Did you say you are carrying our child?”

Hearing him call it “their” child filled her with a sizzling warmth. A worry she hadn’t even recognized as a concern—that he would deny the child—slid from her shoulders. “Yes, my lord, you did. I am.”

“Oh, Elizabeth.” He enfolded her in his arms and stood, lifting her off the sofa and crushing her to his chest.

“Oomph.” He’d surprised a gasp out of her.

“Oh, Lord, did I hurt you?” He lowered her immediately to her feet and stepped back. The worry lines of his face were thrown into stark relief in the candlelight as he frantically looked her up and down.

“No, I am fine. A bit startled, is all.” And a lot relieved.

“As am I.” He turned away, walking in a circle, running his hand through his hair, rumpling it even more thoroughly. “I can scarce take it in. A child,” he said, wonderingly. “And if a boy, my heir. Good Lord.”

To her astonishment, he threw himself at her feet, grasped her hands, and looked up at her, beseeching. “Elizabeth, please, please do me the very great honor of becoming my wife.”

She’d known he would ask again, even before her revelation. Their last encounter in London had all but assured her he was eager for them to wed. And she too was ready now. Gone were any reservations about her indiscretion in bed, and though they had not spoken of love, she could assure herself the passion that burned between them like a bright sun would one day transform into the deep, steady abiding love she had known before. “Yes, Lord Brack,” she said, smiling down into his boyishly eager face, “I will marry you.”

He leaped up, joy in his wide smile, and grasped her face, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that left no doubt about his passion.

His lips were soft as she remembered, but much more insistent, sweet with hints of the whiskey he’d drunk earlier. Delicious in every way. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth, and she eagerly opened to allow their kiss to deepen, to welcome him into her, into her life.

She relaxed against his hard body, enjoying the warmth spreading throughout her as she touched more and more of him. She would be greedy of this man’s kisses as well.

With a groan, he pulled away from her, surreptitiously adjusting his breeches. “You have made me the happiest man alive, my darling, save in one thing.”

Lost in the afterglow of that delicious kiss, Elizabeth smiled but shook her head. “I think we should display caution yet, my lord. We may be betrothed, but I do not believe the library is quite the place for more of a tryst than this.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “God knows, I desire you in every way, my love, yet that was not quite what I referred to.”

“It wasn’t?” She stared longingly at his mouth, hungry for it even now.