Damian studied the two. “The mist green.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“It’s settled then.” She tossed the blue one over his shoulder and huffed. “I’m so glad that’s over with.”
Withholding a grin, Damian wrapped his arms around his pleasantly plump wife. “Why don’t you let me hire—”
“No, Damian.” Her amber eyes lighted with playful warning. “We’ve been through this already. I want to see to the nursery myself. But if you or your mother would like to help…”
This time he grinned. “How quaintly coaxed, Your Grace.”
She fluttered her long flaxen lashes. “I’m well versed in manipulation, you know? I am a pirate, after all.”
“A retired pirate, I should think.”
She snuggled closer to him. “If you insist.”
“I do insist.” A quick peck on the lips. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to be satisfied with my input for the nursery. Mother is secured below stairs.”
“Is she feeling well?”
“Yes, she just needs a little solitude. She got another letter from Adam today.”
Mirabelle hugged him tight. “I’m glad he writes to her.”
“So am I.”
It had been eight months since the night of the stabbing. Eight whirlwind months. Damian had recovered from most of his wounds. His body was sound, his soul at peace thanks to Belle. But his heart still ached for Adam.
Mirabelle wiggled in his embrace. “Something else came in the post today.”
“Oh?” He quirked a brow, releasing his wife.
She shuffled over to the desk and picked up a little packet. “It’s addressed to you.”
Damian eyed the parcel, wrapped in brown paper and secured with string. “Odd. Jenkins never mentioned a delivery.”
“That’s because I took the packet from Jenkins and made him promise not to tell you about it. I wanted to give it to you myself.”
He grimaced. “It’s not from your brothers, is it? A noose to hang myself with or some such rot?”
“No,” she huffed and placed her arms akimbo. “Now are you going to open it or shall I?”
Damian cast his wife a curious eye, then loosened the knot of string. Peeling back the paper wrapping, he balked.
There in singed leather, the edges tattered and burned, was Robinson Crusoe, the very edition he’d believed lost to fire so many years ago.
Stunned, he looked to his wife. “But how did you—”
“Oh, it’s not from me,” she quipped.
“Then who?”
“Read the card, Damian.”
The card? Damian glanced back at the book, heart throbbing, and noticed the scrap of paper peeking out from behind the front cover. He carefully opened the tome to the first page and scanned the missive:
To read to your children.
Adam
Damian didn’t say anything for a time, a great welter of emotion ballooning in his chest. He just stared at the note, so simple and yet so full of promise.
“Adam must have saved the book from the fire,” he said quietly, still in awe, “and then hidden it, to keep it safe, all these years.” He glanced up at his lovely wife to find her smiling. “You don’t seem surprised by this, Belle.”
She traced her fingers lightly over his. “Your mother and I might have written a few letters to Adam, encouraging a reconciliation.”
Damian delved deep into his wife’s golden eyes. Such lovely eyes, reflecting such warmth and love. “Oh, Belle.” He kissed her then, a passionate kiss meant to sear her right down to her very toes. He couldn’t find the words to express the joy rattling inside him. It was such an immense relief to know the brothers would be brothers again—one day.
When the kiss ended, Mirabelle smiled and twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. “Speaking of reunions and brothers…”
“No, Belle.”
She sighed. “It’s too late, Damian. I got a missive from James this morning. My brothers will be here on the morrow.”
The merry moment was quickly tainted by the appalling news. “But I just got rid of them two months ago.”
“Yes, well, they want to be here for the birthing.”
Damian suppressed a growl. After the wedding announcement was made, the Hawkins brothers had moved into the castle. No one had invited them to stay; the brood had simply dug in their heels and set up shelter in some of the unoccupied rooms. And Damian had wanted to strangle the lot of them. The brothers had interfered in all aspects of keep life, likely hoping to drive a wedge between Damian and his intended bride. What the brothers didn’t realize, though, was that Damian would’ve tolerated the incendiary brood for life in order to make Mirabelle his bride. And so, having failed to convince their sister to call off the engagement, the men had resigned themselves to the fate of brother-in-laws. Six bloody months later, the troop had finally departed.
He grumbled, “I’ll have Jenkins hide the silverware again.”
She smacked his arm. “My brothers have retired from piracy, you know that.”
Aye, he did. It seemed one could not have a sister as a duchess and still be a pirate, so the Hawkins brood had declared retirement. Not from the sea—for such men could not stay grounded for long; the call of the water would always beckon—but from piracy. James had resolved to turn the Bonny Meg into a respectable merchant ship. Damian wasn’t so sure, though.
“I’ll believe it, Belle, when I don’t find any missing silverware.”
A loud crash boomed in the castle.
Mirabelle wrinkled her brow. “My brothers already?”
“I don’t think so.” Damian listened for a bit. “Must be another gargoyle coming down.”
“About bloody time,” she huffed. “I hate those fiendish things.”
He nuzzled her brow. “I’m tearing the castle apart for you. I hope you know how much I love you, Your Grace.”
She nuzzled back and whispered, “And I’m having your child. I hope you know how much I love you, Your Grace.”
He shuddered at her heartfelt words. A flurry of sensations stormed his breast at the delightful thought of their future together. He wasn’t alone anymore. He wasn’t in pain. He was at peace for the first time in his existence. And the gratitude inside him was overwhelming.
He couldn’t wait to be a father. A good father. He couldn’t wait for the laughter to start ringing throughout the castle. The patter of little feet in play. The merry cries of joy and shrieks of wonder as duke and duchess and children alike celebrated life together.
“I do know,” he vowed, and took Belle’s lips in his for a thorough kiss. “Most assuredly, my love.”
About the Author
ALEXANDRA BENEDICT is a storyteller at heart. A graduate of the University of Toronto, she works part-time in a museum, while penning passionate tales of historical romance. An archaeology buff, she loves to travel and explore ancient ruins. Her hobbies include collecting art and reading classic British literature.
Alexandra invites readers to visit her at www.alexandrabenedict.ca for contest fun, excerpts, and more.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TOO GREAT A TEMPTATION. Copyright © 2006 by Alexandra Benedikt. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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