///
But her shivering had nothing to do with the cold or her pregnancy. "You're right," she said, tears rising in her eyes. "I-I'm going inside. I'm going to bed. This was a stupid, stupid idea."
"Then why did you do it?" he asked in a strange, dull voice. "Were you just trying to soften the blow?"
"Blow? What blow? You aren't making any sense. You haven't made sense all evening." She pushed her chair back and got clumsily to her feet. As she did, her control broke, tears raining down her face. "I-I was just t-trying to do s-something s-special, to c-celebrate and you've r-ruined it!"
"Ruined what? Celebrate what? God, Grace, are you crying?"
"No!" she wailed. Then she began to sob.
His arms came around her and pulled her close.
She struggled against him briefly before quieting as she continued to cry.
"Shh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he murmured, rubbing his palm over her back. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Just don't be unhappy. Please don't be sad."
"Leave?" she sniffed, her head coming up. "Why would I want you to leave?"
He met her gaze, his eyes stark in the candlelight. "Don't you? Isn't that what this was about tonight? A memorable last meal before you send me on my way?"
"No, I'm not sending you anywhere. Is that what you thought? Why you've been so h-horrible tonight?"
"I'm sorry. I guess I have been moody-"
"Moody! You've been abominable, and all for nothing. By God, Jack Byron, for an intelligent man you can be an idiot sometimes." She stepped back, wiping a palm against her wet face. "I did all of this tonight to tell you I love you! To say that I believe you really love me, that you have loved me. And that I forgive you for everything."
His lips parted. "You did? You do?"
"Yes. I thought it would be romantic to have dinner here in the garden. The garden you had p-planted just for me! Mr. Potsley told me what you did. He told me how you did all this so I would like it and I knew … I … knew you'd never have done so much if you didn't really care. If you didn't really love me! I was going to tell you after d-dinner but-"
"But I spoiled it," he said, reaching out to draw her back into his arms. "You're right, sweetheart. I am an idiot. A stupid dolt who jumps to ridiculous conclusions. Can you forgive me? Again?"
She sniffed. "I shouldn't. Not after tonight! But I will because I love you."
"Do you?" he murmured, a smile curving his lips. "I was afraid I'd killed off those feelings for good and that you'd never love me again."
"I've never stopped loving you," she confessed in a whisper. "Not even when I hated you. And for a while, I really did hate you!"
He laughed and hugged her tighter, then his expression grew serious. "And I really do love you. You are my dearest, most darling wife. My lover. My friend," he said, punctuating each declaration with a soft, sweet kiss.
She trembled and snuggled closer, drawing in his warmth.
"You are cold," he said, rubbing his hands over her arms. "Why don't we go inside in front of the fire and have our dessert."
"Actually, I'd rather postpone dessert and just go upstairs."
"Oh," he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. "Of course, if you're tired, then you should rest."
"Who said anything about being tired?" she asked, sliding her arms around his waist. "I said I wanted to go upstairs. With you."
He met her gaze, a smile spreading slowly across his face. "Really?"
"Yes, really. So? What are you waiting for? Or have you lost your touch, my lord?" she added with an impish grin.
"Lost my-I'll show you all about my touch."
Claiming her mouth, he kissed her, heat rising to warm her skin from the inside out. By the time he let her come up for air, her pulse was throbbing, her toes curled in blissful delight inside her shoes.
"Now, what is it you were saying about my having lost something?" he drawled.
"Nothing," she sighed. "Absolutely nothing at all."
After another quick, hard kiss, he took her hand and pulled her into the house. Ignoring the curious glances of the footmen, they hurried up the stairs.
Without asking, he led her into his bedchamber. A small branch of lighted candles stood on a table near the window, a fire crackling pleasantly in the grate. Locking the door behind them, he crossed the room and drew the curtains closed.
///
"I've dreamt of having you here in my bed for weeks," he said, turning around. "Especially after your visit-your one and only visit. You have no idea all the fantasies I've spun about you in this room."
She smiled and draped her shawl over a chair. "Perhaps a few. You're not the only one whose bed has been lonely."
"You won't ever be lonely again." Taking her hands, he tugged her near for another long, sultry kiss. "Or alone."
That's when she saw his gaze drift downward, alighting on the heart-shaped pendant clasped around her neck.
"You're wearing it," he said, his words carrying a wondering tone.
Reaching up, she fingered the amethysts, then smoothed her thumb over the flat piece of porcelain in the center with its tiny painted garden. "Yes. Because I realize now that it was given in love."
"It was, even if I was too blind to know it at the time. Something else for which I must beg your forgiveness."
"It's yours." She laid her palm on his chest near his heart. "Did you really carry the pendant around with you when we were apart?"
"Constantly. It made me feel closer to you. Strange, I suppose, considering you wore it for such a brief time."
"Not so strange," she reassured. "I kept a handkerchief of yours, though I never planned to tell you that."
Leaning near, he pressed his lips to hers. "Besotted. The pair of us."
"Definitely."
"Now," he said, after another lingering kiss, "what do you say to getting naked?" He waggled his brows, eyes gleaming with wicked anticipation.
Giggling, she nodded, then let him help her undress.
It was only when she stood in her shift-the one thin garment all that separated her body from his gaze-that she felt herself grow shy.
"What's this now?" he asked, sliding a tender finger beneath her chin to tip up her face. "Are you turning bashful on me?"
"I've turned round with child," she said, confessing her qualms. "My shape is … fuller since the last time you saw me."
"Yes, and I can't wait to find out just how much lovelier you've become."
"But what if you … "
"Don't like the way you look? Impossible."
We'll see, she thought.
But her fears proved groundless, his eyes darkening with clear desire. Gently, reverently, his hands traced the shape of her new curves, careful of her breasts whose larger size he seemed to find particularly appealing.
"Lord above, Grace, you're magnificent."
Her muscles relaxed, her confidence returning. "I believe, my lord, that you're a bit overdressed at the moment."
He glanced at his fully clothed body. "I believe you're right."
While she stretched out across the sheets, she watched him undress, smiling at his haste.
He joined her, settling his long, powerful body against her own. But he was infinitely tender as his mouth took hers again, his hands wandering over her sensitive flesh in ways that literally stole her breath. Trembling, yearning, she waited for his possession, needing him, loving him, finally secure in the knowledge that he loved her too.
"Heavens, Jack, I've missed being like this with you."
"Not half as much as I have, I'll wager."
Winding her arms around his neck, she gave him a long, passionate kiss. "Perhaps we should bet on that?" she said. "After all, isn't that what started all this between us? A bet?"
"Indeed it is. And so long as you're the prize, my love, then it's a wager I'll gladly make over and over and over again. But perhaps you need a demonstration?"
"Hmm, perhaps I do," she purred.
And to her ecstatic delight, he proceeded to show her that when it came to love, both of them were on the winning side.
Epilogue
Kent, England
Late February 1811
"Do you need anything?" Jack asked from his seat in the second-floor family drawing room.
Ensconced in a plump armchair opposite, Grace glanced up from her embroidery and met his gaze. "I'm fine, darling, but you're sweet to ask."
"Another blanket? I don't want you taking a chill."
"I think there's little likelihood of that," she replied, hiding a gentle grin.
Despite the snow-covered fields outside and the watery winter sunlight that was doing its best to filter through the windowpanes, the room was warm and cozy. A hearty fire blazed in the grate, Ranunculus curled up in a contented circle on a nearby side chair, his fur nearly as orange as the flames.