Chapter 16 #3
"I think we are. Oh, but we make such beautiful babies," she murmured, putting her daughter inside her cot. Her brother was in the throne room with his grandmother learning the ropes of running the palace.
"We did settle on two," her husband reminded her gently. "She's sleeping," he added, reaching out a hand to touch the satiny cheek.
"We'll see."
Stepping back from the cot, he caught her around the waist and drew her towards him.
She had gained weight after having the babies back to back.
But he did not mind. He loved her and had proven to her time and again that she was the only woman for him.
Tilting her chin up, he brushed his lips on hers.
"You make me so bloody happy," he said gruffly.
"The feeling is mutual." Linking her hands around his neck, she leaned into him, breathing in his scent.
She had arrived in the country, distraught and thinking her life was over and had found that the best was yet to come.
Lifting her head, she cupped his face between her palms and kissed him softly. "Thank God for you."
The end… or not!
Get Exclusive Tomas the quiet ways Wren was slipping through the cracks. The ways I was already failing her.
And then she stayed.
She challenged me. Taught me. Forced me to become someone my niece could actually depend on.
But somewhere between school meetings, late-night calls, and learning how to braid a seven-year-old’s hair...
I stopped just trying to be a better guardian.
I started becoming a better man.
For Wren.
For myself.
And for the one woman who refuses to make anything easy... including falling for her.
Want to read more? Then click here to get The Girl Who Brought Them Together now.
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Also available: She’s Your Daughter by Terri Duncan:
Description:
Eighteen seconds of video.
That's all it took to destroy every lie I'd been telling myself for five years.
A little girl with a hairbrush microphone, reporting live on the injustice of bedtime.
I would have scrolled past. But she turned.
And I saw my mother's eyes staring back at me.
Those pale, mercurial eyes that shift between green and gray and everything in between.
Then the birthmark. The exact crescent on her tiny wrist that marks every Harding who's ever lived.
I called her mother's name before I even knew I was saying it.
Tiana.
The woman I let walk out my door six years ago because I was too proud to chase her.
Twelve miles. She'd been twelve miles away the whole time.
Building a life. Raising our daughter alone.
While I built an empire with a hollow center and told myself I felt nothing.
I feel something now.
The desperate need to be the father my daughter deserves.
And the consuming, bone-deep want of a man who never stopped loving her mother.
Tiana was the only thing I ever had that mattered more than the empire.
I was just too much of a fool to show her. I'm done being a fool.