Strong arms caught her, gathering her, muscles flexing as he picked her up, breath rushing out with the effort. She gave his shoulder a knock with her closed fist, hating him for being virile and powerful when she was fat and weak and falling apart.
He laid her on the bed, coming down alongside her, gathering her into his chest and pressing his lips against her brow, murmuring in French.
She tried to stop crying and listen and wound up wailing, “I don’t understand you!” She didn’t mean because he was speaking French, but because he was being so nice.
“I’m telling you not to be afraid, chérie. I shouldn’t have scared you, saying those things about being a target. You’re safe. I promise I will keep you and the babies safe.”
He had it all wrong, but she was so shaken to be held by him, so relieved, she surrendered to emotion and let the pain of these weeks without him release.
He continued to stroke her hair and murmur reassurances. She knew he had probably done this with Trella. Henri had spent fifteen years trying to help his sister recover from something that never should have happened. It was no wonder he drew such a thick line around himself and his family, holding everyone else at a distance.
But even though he begrudged Cinnia for daring to get pregnant, here he was, making promises, letting her burrow into his warmth. It was sweet and right and she cried all the harder.
Bastard. How dare he keep this good, generous heart of his out of her reach?
“Shh. Calm yourself, chérie.”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she said, feeling pitiful as she admitted it.
He misunderstood her again. “It’s not all on you, Cinnia. You can trust me.” He rubbed her back and smoothed his lips against her brow. “I’m here now.”
“But you don’t want to be.” That was the crux of the matter.
He held his mouth against her forehead for a long moment, then sighed a warm breath against her hairline.
“You’re fair to berate me for that.”
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Despair rose afresh and she started to roll away.
He tightened his arms, keeping her against his warmth.
“It was painful enough that the kidnapping happened,” he said in a low voice that sounded like it barely scraped through a dry throat. “It was frightening enough to live with the knowledge that we’re not impervious. But then I became the one responsible for standing watch. Of course I will always look after my mother and sisters, but I never wanted to take on a wife and child. A child, Cinnia. If you knew what my parents looked like when Trella was missing.”
She swallowed, shocked out of her desolation. He never talked about the kidnapping.
“I was in agony. My mother... It was inhuman what they did to her by taking her daughter. And what they did to Trella? I have never wanted to bring the potential for more suffering into my life by having children. That sounds cowardly, I know, but I couldn’t volunteer for it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wilting in helplessness, voice nothing but a rasp as she realized he would never forgive her.
“Non,” he insisted. “You are not sorry. Neither am I. I’m not.” He cupped her face, tilting it up so she could see he was sincere. “I am concerned. I will worry about our children for the rest of my life. But I’m not sorry to be their father.”
She could hardly see him through her swollen eyes as they filled with tears of tentative hope.
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Our children are not something either of us will regret.” He tucked his chin to send his gaze down to her belly and very carefully set his hand on the firm, round bump. “These babies are wanted. By both of their parents. Oui?”
Being held by him had already warmed her through, but that touch, the reverence in his gentle, splayed hand, sent joyous light through her, so sharp and sweet she had to close her eyes to withstand it. She ducked her head against his collarbone, feeling all the sharp edges of her broken heart shifting, trying to find a way to fit back together.
“Yes.” Her lips trembled as she felt his hand move, lightly exploring. It was pure magic.
“How are there two in there, Cinnia? That’s unbelievable.”
As if they knew it was him and wanted to say hello, a tiny rolling sensation went through her abdomen. She choked on a little laugh.
“Did you feel that? Maybe it’s not strong enough—”
“Shh.” He seemed to hold his breath as they both held very still.
Pressure nudged where his hot hand rested. He let out a breath of wonder.
“Is that really them?” he whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper. They’re not sleeping.” She tilted her face to look at him again, unable to hold back her smile. He was too devoted to his siblings to withhold his love from his children. She’d always known that, deep down, but she was still relieved to see him react with the beginning of parental love. She was overjoyed. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”