The Devilish Duke
Page 5
“I don’t want to be alone.” She got up and went to him. “I want my husband and lots of his children gathered around us.”
His gaze searched her face. “You can’t be that good. You must despise me.”
“You’re not the prince most girls dream of.” He wasn’t, true enough, but he claimed to love her, and she was fast on her way to returning that love, in spite of everything.
“I’m not any kind of prince at all.”
“So, I suppose I’ll have to settle for a duke.” She eased herself into his embrace. “None of us are perfect, Richard. None of us can judge you, not even yourself.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “But, I don’t deserve Tewksbury, either. So, I suppose I’ll have to settle for you.”
He held her close, tucking her head under his chin. “Foolish woman.”
“Just a tired one. Let’s go back to bed.”
Epilogue
Fallon stood on the staircase, clutching the banister. He could have done what thousands of men had done before him—wait downstairs, drinking or not, waiting for the final word. Then, waiting some more while others made everything clean and tidy as if nothing of any difficulty had been going on. But, this was his wife, damn it. Screaming in pain—pain he’d caused her. How would he live with himself if she died?
God, I know You don’t have much regard for me, but You must love her. Spare her, and I promise I’ll never put her through this again.
To hell with this heir business. If she didn’t produce a son, so be it. Some distant cousin could inherit the title. Fallon could crumble and fall out of neglect, for all he cared. Without his Rosalind, none of it mattered, anyway. Only, how would he manage to keep his hands off her to prevent another pregnancy?
She screamed again…a long, piercing note followed by a softer wail. Had Louisa yelled like that? If he could remember, he could tell if Rosalind was dying or not. Surely, she’d only manage a whimper if she’d lost her strength. Rosalind didn’t sound as Louisa had, did she? Why couldn’t he remember?
No, she couldn’t die. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d go to her and put his arms around her, and the devil keep any objection that he was in the way, that he needed to let the doctor and the midwife work. She was his wife, damn it. He needed to be with her and hold her and never let go.
She shouted again, and this time it did end with a whimper. Enough. He charged up the rest of the stairs and fairly flew to her bedroom door. Just as he put his hand on the knob, it opened, and one of the maids stepped out, her arms full of linens. Linens smeared with blood. Rosalind’s.
She held out a hand to stop him from going in. “They’re not ready for you yet, Your Grace.”
He pushed her aside. “They’d better be, because I’m going in.”
Another scream sounded from inside. It nearly cut him in two.
“Rosalind?” he shouted. “I’m coming, my darling.”
Silence followed. After hours of her voice calling out in agony, the quiet echoed through his brain. Was it over? Had she left him? She couldn’t have gone without at least a few more moments together.
He moved to enter again, but this time, the midwife blocked his way. “It’s done, sir.”
“Done?”
Before she could speak, another wail filled the room just beyond. An infant, and a strong one by the sound of it. His child.
He took a step backward, not daring to look inside. Not daring to breathe?
“It was an easy first birth,” the midwife said.
“Easy?” he repeated. “You’d call that easy?”
“Her Grace is a healthy woman,” the woman answered. “She can have six or eight children if she wants.”
“She wouldn’t dare,” he said. “I’d never survive it.”
“New fathers are all the same.” The midwife walked away, chuckling.
He stood for a moment, letting relief wash over him. He still had his wife. And now, he had a child. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. He had his family.
The doctor finally appeared, rolling his sleeves down, his coat over one arm. “I don’t know why you needed me. I’ve never seen such a simple first birth.”
“Thank God.”
“Congratulations, Your Grace.” The doctor clapped him on the shoulder. “You have a fine, healthy son.”
A son. He didn’t hear anything else, couldn’t see anything else. The world might have disappeared except for the room in front of him. He opened the door, finally, and slumped against the doorjamb. Only feet away, Rosalind sat propped against pillows with a bundle in her arms. She smiled at him. Smiled. After all she’d been through in the last hours, she could smile at him.
The usual glow to her skin had faded, and dark circles rimmed the undersides of her eyes. But, she sat up straight, and her arms held firmly to the tiny treasure wrapped in linens. And, the expression on her face—exhaustion and pure bliss.
“We won’t go through this again,” he said.
“You can’t know that,” she answered.
“I insist. No more torture for either of us.”
“Silly man.” She chuckled. “How are you going to manage that? Are we never to make love again?”
Damn, she was right. Sex was the last thing his body wanted right now. He only ached to hold her, feel the silk of her hair against his chin, breathe in the scent of her. That wouldn’t last, though. He’d go back to craving her, night and day. They’d have more children—the midwife had said Rosalind could manage. With each child, his wife would become more precious to him. What a lucky bastard he was.
“Don’t you at least want to look at your son?” Rosalind asked.
“Of course.” He went to the bed and sat down carefully beside her. When she parted the wrappings around the baby, he got his first look. Wrinkled and red, his son was a marvel. Nothing short of a miracle.
“You’re a father now,” Rosalind said. “Your days as the devil duke are over, I’m afraid.”
“No one will miss that bastard,” he answered. “But you’re wrong on one count.”
Her eyebrow went up.
“I’m a husband and a father and the happiest man alive.”
* * * * *
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ISBN: 978-14592-3562-5
The Devilish Duke
Copyright © 2012 by Alice G. Brilmayer
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