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This Duchess of Mine(115)

By:Eloisa James


“More like a debauched Roman matron than a goddess,” he observed. He reached forward again.

Jemma squeaked. “Not there too?”

“Everywhere,” he said with satisfaction. “In fact, given that violets are edible, we should consider your body a banquet. Put a violet everywhere that you would like me to…taste. Do you see what I am doing, Jemma?”

“Turning me into a flower bed.”

“No, I am having fun. Just as you taught me.”

She leaned over to give him a kiss.

“I’m being extravagant,” he continued. “I’m risking bankrupting the duchy to blanket you in flowers. I’m flirting with you, and now I’m going to make love to you.”

“Hmmm…” Jemma rolled to her back and held out her hand for violets. “Here,” she said, dropping them onto the slope of her breast. “Oh, and here.” She loved it when he kissed her stomach. “And…”

The next hour or so was delicious from a culinary—and a personal—point of view.

It was only when they were sitting twined together on the steps leading down to the pool, enveloped by the warm water, that Jemma said, “Elijah.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “Look at those broken tiles over there, Jemma. I do believe there used to be a mosaic depicting Apollo and Daphne on that wall.”

“I have a surprise too.”

“You do?”

She looked up at him. “I taught you how to have fun. And you taught me something just as important.”

“I love praise,” he said, nuzzling her. “Tell me more.”

“You taught me that not all games need to be won. And that I don’t always have to be in control.”

He nipped her ear. “That’s true.” There was a deep, male satisfaction in his voice. “You’ve become quite used to begging.”

“I have a gift in return.”

His eyes were grave now, looking into hers. “What gifts haven’t you given me, Jemma? Besides my life?”

She kissed him again, loving him. Then she picked up his hand and put it gently on her belly. “This is my gift.”

He froze.

“Jemma!”

She started laughing at the look in his eyes.

“You’re joking,” he said hoarsely.

“Never.”

“You’re—You’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” she corrected him.

He had both hands on her tummy now, spanning her with ease. “Are you certain, Jemma?” he asked.

“I’ve seen pregnant woman and you’re very slim.”

“I am not!” she protested. “You simply haven’t noticed. Look!” And she stood up. She thought her stomach formed the sweetest, most delicate curve she’d ever seen.

Elijah rose from the water, drops flying from his muscled body, and without pausing fell to his knees and put his lips to her stomach.

“Oh, Elijah!” Jemma said, putting a hand on his dark hair.

“I love you,” he said huskily. “You’ve given me my life, Jemma…twice over.”

In the end, she cried.

He was too happy for tears.





Epilogue




An appalling number of years later

There were times when the Duchess of Beaumont felt quite irritated about growing old. Her right ankle hurt sometimes. Her hips were a little rounder than she would have preferred. Her hair was emphatically no longer pure gold.

Even now, for example, as she bent over to adjust the knot of pearls on her slippers, something creaked in one knee and she straightened quickly.

“Why the frown?” Elijah said, entering the chamber and stripping off his riding coat. He had been in Hyde Park with Evan, their eldest. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I have to tell you what happened while we were riding. Your friend, the Duchess of Cosway, stopped me because she wanted to know more about the Cacky Street helmets. She had the idea that perhaps their village smith might use something of the same nature.”

“Oh, how is Isidore?” Jemma asked with pleasure.

“I haven’t seen her since our Twelfth Night ball.”

“She seemed the same,” Elijah said, pulling off his boots. “Beautiful woman. Not as lovely as you, of course. But more importantly, I think she has a good point about smiths making use of something to protect their eyes.”

Jemma picked up her manuscript. She had been working all morning on her latest project, a treatise entitled The Beaumont Chess Series: Complex Problems for Master Players. “That’s wonderful, darling. I’ve been writing all morning. I thought I’d stow this in the library and go for a walk. Would you like to join me?”