Epilogue #2
“I’ve also been craving all sorts of odd things,” Jessamine said. “Clams, most recently. Do you know, it’s near impossible to buy clams in the middle of the night?”
Andrew groaned. “Not for want of trying.”
“He has been very patient with me, and he will have to be a good deal more patient, because I am not nearly done making a fuss.” She laughed, twisting around to drop a kiss on his cheek.
“And you will grumble through it all, pretend as though it’s a great inconvenience, and provide me with a great many things I never even thought to ask for. ”
“That is my plan,” he said wryly, holding her a little more tightly. “Except, you know I don’t begrudge you anything.”
That was the moment William chose to wake from his nap. Until just now, he had been sleeping in Kate’s arms, and she’d been blind and deaf to all the party, entranced by his tiny face and soft breaths. Andrew understood the feeling, although it wasn’t something he intended to admit to anyone.
But upon waking, William decided Kate was not the mother he had hoped to find, and let out a squall of indignation.
“Oh, my darling,” Jessamine cooed, sliding off Andrew’s lap and going at once to her son.
There could be no doubt about it now: William truly was her son. At the sight of her, his crying stopped, and he watched her with strangely serious eyes.
Jessamine returned to Andrew, climbing back onto his lap. He held them both close, all three of them if one counted the child in her belly.
“Now then,” Jessamine said, addressing him as though he were a fully grown adult. “What was all that fuss about, hm? You know Kate and you like her. There’s no need to be so fussy.”
“It’s a hard life,” Irene said. “Being a baby. He doesn’t understand the world yet. All he knows is you.”
Jessamine stroked her finger down William’s cheek. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered. “We will always be there for you.”
William’s face twisted. First one side of his mouth, then the other, curled up, until his gums were exposed and he was offering Jessamine a delightful, impish, adorable smile.
“Oh, my darling!” Jessamine glanced at Andrew, her eyes wide and her smile breaking across her face. “My sweet boy. Do you like looking at your mama? Do you know I love him?”
She tickled his sides, then dotted kisses over his face. He gurgled something that could, if one were being generous, be called a laugh.
Andrew took one of William’s hands, and the way the baby’s fingers curled around his own never failed to awe him.
This tiny being trusted him implicitly. Perhaps William didn’t love Andrew as much as he loved Jessamine, but that was all right.
Andrew could wait until the boy was older, and then they would bond over other things.
Andrew would ensure William had the life he never got, and was prepared for whatever the future would entail.
Andrew would never ever treat his son the way his father had treated him.
“Did you see that?” Jessamine demanded in a whisper. “Andrew, did you see that?”
“I saw it,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of William’s tiny, soft hand. “He smiled.”
“His first smile!” Jessamine rested her head against Andrew’s shoulder.
It was a small gesture, but he would never stop taking the small gestures for granted. They meant she loved him, and that was more precious than words.
That, and William’s smile.
Irene and Lady Marwich tugged everyone away so Andrew and Jessamine could sit in this moment a little longer, William balanced on her knee.
“I’m so happy, Andrew,” Jessamine said with a sigh. “Sometimes I think it’s too much.”
“I think it’s just enough,” he told her. “Exactly as much as you deserve.”
“And no more?” she teased.
“You can have as much as you like.”
Her hand went once again to her stomach. “Do you know, Andrew,” she said, her voice hushed. “I really think I will.”
Jessamine stared at her naked reflection in the full-length mirror, her hands going to her stomach. The moment she had first discovered she was with child, she had gone to the mirror, half expecting to see a change. But although she felt different, there was nothing to be seen as yet.
Irene hadn’t started to show at all until four months, so Jessamine expected she would soon start to see a very something.
Or was that the slightest curve above her pelvis? Once again, she ran her hand over herself. Inside her womb, somewhere, was a child. Or at least, the beginnings of one.
Andrew came up behind her, wrapping both hands over her waist and splaying them across her stomach as though there was something to hold. In a way, she supposed there was, even if it lurked invisibly there.
“I hope it’s a girl,” she said, watching his face to get a sense of his disappointment.
But he merely pressed a kiss to her neck. He wore only his breeches, slung low on his hips, and she adored these moments where he did not feel the need to be his usual starched-up self.
“A girl?” he asked distractedly, finding a sensitive spot of skin just below her ear. “Why is that?”
“Because then we can pick out gowns together and I can accompany her during her very own London Season and she can find a husband and… Oh, won’t it be exciting?”
“A little girl with your hair and eyes?” He considered this for a moment, his hands sliding across her skin in the most delicious of ways. “I like the sound of that.”
“Maybe she’ll have your nose.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“And your chin.”
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “If we have a son, he can take both my nose and my chin, but I would not wish them on a girl. Let her have your nose and your chin.”
“But if she already has my hair and eyes,” she protested, laughing, “what of yours will she have?”
“I’m content so long as she is ours.” He held her more tightly against him, his arousal making itself known, insistent against her back. “She can have all your features. In fact, what greater thing?”
“Are you not worried about what people might say if she did?”
“Darling, have I not made it clear that you care for such things, not me?” His gaze met hers in the reflection, and he sank a hand between her legs. “Watch me,” he commanded.
Everything in Jessamine thrilled to obey. She spread her legs a little, giving him access, and as he fondled her breasts with one hand, he toyed with folds. Since getting with child, she had become even more sensitive there, even more hungry for him, and he seemed more than happy to oblige.
Like this, he was able to bring her to her peak in a matter of moments, and she sank back against him, crying out as his arm, an iron band around her waist, held her upright.
Once the final waves of pleasure faded, he withdrew his hand and, still holding her gaze in the mirror, suckled on his fingers. The erotic nature of the gesture made her gasp.
“On the bed,” he said, and she hurried to obey, her legs still weak.
Sometimes, when the occasion called for it, he allowed her to take control. But mostly, he took charge, telling her what he wanted and how. Often, what he wanted related to what he thought she might want, and he always addressed her pleasure before his own.
What was there to complain about?
As far as Jessamine was concerned, absolutely nothing.
“Hands and knees,” he said, and she did as she was told, crawling onto her hands and knees and presenting herself for him.
He grunted a brief note of approval, and his hand caressed her buttock before delivering a stinging slap. The pain evolved, turning into pleasure, and she buried her face into the pillow, biting back a moan.
“You look so perfect, all bared for me,” he said, finding her entrance again with her fingers.
He worked her for a few moments more, until she was biting her moans into the blankets once again. Ready for him, her slickness spread across her thighs, he positioned himself behind her.
This was one of Jessamine’s favorite positions. The way he entered her, as he did now, with a quick thrust that sent shivers down her spine, hit the most perfect angle. It would take him very little time to get her to another peak, and he knew it, his fingers slipping through to her folds again.
Jessamine squeezed her eyes closed, lost to the most perfect pleasure.
This was all she needed. Everything.
Andrew’s thrusts slowed, holding her right on the edge. “I love you,” he told her.
“I love you,” she replied.
She reached a hand back to him, and his fingers interlocked with hers as he reached his own climax, spilling inside her, just as he had done the night he had given her the most perfect life inside her. Her own climax chased his, and all through, they held onto one another.
Just as she knew they would do for the rest of their lives.
The End?