His gaze scanned the chamber for her. Now he was free, and only one thing weighed on his mind. Or to be more accurate, only one thing burned through his blood like scalded cinders.
He tugged the cravat loose from around his neck as his gaze landed on his wife where she sat before the dressing table. Her gaze lifted and collided with his in the mirror. Color flooded her cheeks. He loved that. Loved that she still blushed when their eyes met. He loved that he still had the ability to make the color rush to her face.
Her lush mouth curved into a slow smile as he took his time assessing her. It was almost shy, beguiling, and that made the skin tighten at the back of his neck. She still had this effect on him. Even after months of marriage. After countless days and nights together where they had each loved and explored each other with unhurried leisure, using their hearts alongside their bodies, he knew it would never be any other way between them.
Still staring at him in her dressing table mirror, she settled back a bit on the bench, her hand drifting to the well-rounded curve of her belly.
Aurelia, ripe with child, was impossibly beautiful. He ached at the sight of her. Garbed in a rich blue dressing robe, her dark hair flowing in waves over her shoulders and down her back, she radiated life and vitality.
His chest clenched when he thought she had tried to leave him. Then it clenched even tighter when he recalled the sight of that carriage tossed on its side. He could have lost her that day. Both of them. Aurelia and their child.
His dark thoughts must have crossed his face.
She pouted at him and angled her head to the side. Come here, she mouthed at him in the mirror, crooking her finger.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed off the door and crossed the room to her in a few quick strides. At the bench, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. She turned to meet him and he rested his cheek against her swollen belly.
From the corner of his eye he spotted a new sketch on her dressing table. “Is that for me?” he asked mildly, picking it up and admiring her work. Watching her sketch had become a favorite pastime. She was brilliant and amusing and he enjoyed offering her his perspectives on the goings-on around Town, honored when she often took his ideas and incorporated them into her drawings. He only insisted that he be the one to leave the drawings around London. If discovered, he would weather the storm better than she. It wasn’t fair, but it was the reality. And she was his wife. He would protect her from anything, small or large.
“I thought we might leave this at the musicale—”
“At Mackenzie’s?” He frowned. “Must we go?”
“Come. Don’t you want to see Mackenzie properly domesticated? She’s a lovely girl—”
“She has my utmost pity.” He snorted.
She swatted his shoulder. “Be nice, Max. You got what you wanted.”
“That’s right.” He folded his arms around her again and returned his cheek to her stomach, turning to press a kiss on the swell of her belly. Glancing up, his heart squeezed at the sight of her glowing face. “I’ve got you. Forever.”