46. EPILOGUE #2
"Stay." Her favorite word. And his. She said it every time he entered her — like a plea or a blessing — even though he had not left her once since the day after the docks.
When he had surrendered, he had surrendered completely. Irrevocably.
He moved in her — slow, deep. She wrapped her legs around him, and he felt her everywhere. When her breathing turned shallow and her eyes unfocused, when her lips parted and her body milked him with rhythmic spasms, he stayed with her, stroking deep and slow, prolonging her pleasure.
When his own orgasm built, he didn't fight it. He looked at her. She looked at him. He came inside her by choice. No panic. No terror. Only her face, her hands, the warmth of her body holding what he gave.
His breath shuddered out. She gathered him close. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, and for a long time neither of them spoke.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, in the pale Cornish light that made everything look scrubbed clean. Her head was on his chest. His hand moved in slow circles on her belly — a new habit he seemed to have acquired without decision, as natural as breathing.
"We will need to prepare the nursery," she said.
He went still. He had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Months. Since he first suspected .
"Let us turn the yellow room adjacent to ours into the nursery."
She lifted her head. "You have already thought about it."
"I have thought about it from the moment I married you.
We simply never reached the point where we got to discuss it.
But I always thought that room would be ideal.
I imagined the cradle. The color of the walls.
" He paused. Some of the old fear crept in.
"Do you think it is too soon? If something were to — "
"No." She said it without hesitation. "We are not going to do that, Valentine. We are not going to hold our breath for five more months and refuse to hope because hoping might hurt. I have spent enough of my life being afraid. So have you."
He looked at her. The morning light was in her hair, turning the auburn to copper. Her hand was on his chest. Their child was between them — four months old and alive.
"We are going to believe this is real," she said.
"We are going to set up the nursery and choose the cradle and argue about names and let Venus buy every absurd gift she can find, and we are going to do all of it without apology.
And if fear shows up at the door, we will meet it together.
But we will not invite it in. Not anymore. "
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He released the fear with the air he expelled. Then he smiled at what she had said about his sister.
"Venus will be insufferable."
"Venus will be a magnificent aunt, and you know it."
"She will arrive with a carriage full of lace and opinions, and she will not leave for six months."
"At least seven. She will want to be here for the birth."
"God help us all."
Vivienne laughed. He loved watching her laugh fully, with her head tipped back, her hand still on his chest, the sound filling the room the way her humming had filled it an hour ago.
"I will speak to Mrs. Trevena," he said. "We shall begin preparing the room today."
"Today? "
"You just told me we are not waiting. I'm taking you at your word."
She took his face in her hands. He recognized the feeling shining from her eyes. A fierce tenderness. Something that had survived pain, separation, loss, and had emerged stronger than ever. After a year of learning each other again, it didn't need to be handled with care.
"I will also scale down my involvement with the Foreign Office."
"But you are in the middle of hunting down and dismantling this conspiracy Alfred was part of."
"John can take the lead. He's more than capable and is well appraised of everything. I shall write to him and Stanley immediately, informing them of my decision. I will still oversee things, and advise as needed, but I want to focus on you. On our child."
"I love you so much." The words were softly spoken. Clear.
She said them often. So did he. But their frequency did not rob them of their power. He never took them for granted. They were a vow to keep loving, with courage, with strength.
Together.
No matter what came.