She poked him again, bringing him out of his musing. “Finish what you intended to say.”
He took hold of her hand. “You are not the woman I expected in bed.”
“Why is that?”
“Making love seems to come natural to you. You are comfortable with it and enjoy it, yet you have never been with another man.”
“Being a healer teaches you much, and having a grandmother who will discuss anything with you is a great benefit. I’ve learned that most women feel that bedding their husband is a duty, and they are the ones with the most complaints, whereas the women who enjoy coupling have far fewer complaints.” She chuckled. “But far more children.”
“So you decided to enjoy?”
“I did, though my grandmother warned me that the right man was necessary for me to get any enjoyment out of it.”
Artair thumped his chest. “I’m the right man.”
“Then I must be the right woman.”
“No, you are the perfect woman, absolutely perfect in every way,” he said, turning and raining kisses over her face. “I love every inch of you.”
She stiffened, and he could have kicked himself. Why did he have to mention love at this moment?
“You love the act of making love, not me.”
He wasn’t sure if she was asking or telling him, and he didn’t want to get caught in a trap that would only make the situation worse. But he also couldn’t agree with her, since it was far from the truth.
“Let’s leave that discussion for another day,” he said. She looked ready to argue, and he pressed his finger to her lips. “Please, this one time just agree with me.”
To his relief, she grinned. “Just this one time.”
“I never get another reprieve, ever?” he asked, feigning shock.
“Only time will tell,” she teased, and yawned wide and long.
“You need sleep,” he said, and kissed the tip of her nose. “And you can encroach on my side of the bed all you want.”
“I just might take up all of it if you’re not careful.”
“Then I won’t be careful, for I want you in my arms, on my side of the bed, snuggled tight against me every night.”
“Just remember you asked for it,” she said with a laugh.
He cuddled her in his arms, and her eyes closed and her light snore followed. He smiled, content, for there was no way he would let this woman get away from him.
It seemed he’d hardly closed his eyes when he heard a pounding at the door. Within five minutes, Zia was up and out of bed, on her way to deliver a babe. He insisted on going with her, but she advised him against it. He could do nothing to help her. He would just wait around while he could be sleeping.
She kissed him before he could get out of bed, told him to keep it warm for her, and then was gone.
He intended to get up and follow her, despite what she’d told him, but continued to lay there, the scent of their lovemaking ripe on the bedding. The fresh memories had him smiling. Content and satisfied, he fell fast asleep.
The babe arrived with the first light of dawn, wailing his face red, the startling color matching the thatch of bright red hair on the top of his head. It hadn’t been a difficult birth, which Zia always gave thanks for, and since it was Teresa’s second child, labor was shorter, though not less painful.
Zia had mother and child cleaned up in no time, and while the babe slept quietly in his mother’s arms, she prepared a brew and some food for Teresa. The brew would help soothe her, and the food help strengthen her.
“I wondered after the birth of my first son why I would ever put myself through the pain of another,” Teresa said, her full cheeks red from exertion and her brown eyes sparkling with joy. “But when I hold my babe in my arms, I have the answer. You’ll know the feeling soon enough, having that strong, handsome husband of yours.”
Zia’s eyes rounded like full moons and she dropped the spoon she held, startled. There was a chance now that she could be with child, and while it shocked her, it also warmed her.
“I’m sorry,” Teresa said. “I should not have been so bold—”
“Nonsense,” Zia said, and hurried to put the woman at ease. “You just startled me, making me realize that after delivering so many babes, I could very well be having one of my own.” She winked. “And my husband is handsome.”
Her own admission startled her, for she had always been careful never to refer to Artair as her husband, but it seemed to spill from her lips so naturally.
Teresa giggled. “All the women think Artair handsome. Lachlan thinks he’s the handsomest brother, but the women all know it is Artair. And you’re the lucky woman who won his heart.”