Yet she smirked at him unrepentantly. “How could I ever forget the night we made our little Jacques—when you chased me all over the house, tearing at my clothes?”
“And then I caught you,” he supplied meaningfully.
“And made love to me outside beneath the cypress stairway, in the pouring rain . . .” Even now she sighed dreamily at the memory of him driving into her so passionately, with the storm raging about them.
Julian’s grin broadened as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Madame, you are married to a man who most definitely knows how to give a tease her just desserts.”
Suddenly, all levity fled her expression, and her eyes grew moist and wistful as they met his. “Julian, I love you so.”
“Not nearly as much as I love you,” he replied with equal emotion.
“You’ve made me so happy.”
“Not nearly as happy as you’ve made me,” he whispered back.
For many minutes, they kissed and shared their joy. Then, simultaneously, all three occupants on the bed yawned. Mercy and Julian laughed, then cuddled up together with the babe securely between them.
The door opened and Justine admitted Corrine. As the woman left, the child toddled across the room with cookie in hand and solemnly clambered up onto the bed and into her father’s waiting arms.
The small family dozed in the golden light of morning.