by Lisa Kleypas
"Or blow up in my face," Morgan muttered. Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling with a surly grunt. Clearly, he was envisioning the prospect of training Nick Gentry. Suddenly he let out a sardonic laugh. "It might be worth it, though. After all the trouble that little bastard has caused us, I would enjoy running him through the wringer."
Ross smiled, reflecting on Nick Gentry's strapping form and thinking that only someone of Morgan's stature could refer to him as "little."
"You'll give it some consideration, then."
"Are you giving me a choice?"
Ross gave a brief shake of his head.
"I didn't think so," Morgan muttered. "Damnation. I hope you retire soon, Cannon."
Sophia was in bed by the time Ross entered the darkened room, and she remained still and quiet, hoping he would think she was asleep. He had refrained from venting his displeasure with her during the carriage ride from Newgate, and she knew that he intended to wait until they were in the privacy of their apartments. Now, however, was the time of reckoning. She reasoned that if she could delay him until the morning, his wrath might cool.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Ross was not inclined to wait. He lit the lamp and turned it up until it emitted a relentless glow.
Slowly Sophia sat up and gave him a placating smile. "What did Sir Grant say when you told him--"
"We'll discuss that later," he said tersely, refusing to be distracted. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his large hands on either side of her, pinning her in place beneath the covers. "Right now, I want to discuss your actions this evening. And you're going to explain how you could have taken such a risk when you know how I feel about your safety!"
Sophia shrank backward against the pillows as he proceeded to deliver a blistering lecture that would have caused anyone else to wither. However, she knew that his ire was born of his love for her, and so she received every word with humble agreement. When he was finished--or perhaps he was merely taking a breath before resuming--she broke in remorsefully.
"You are absolutely right," she said. "If I were in your position, I would feel the same way. I should have stayed in the carriage as you asked."
"That's right," Ross muttered, his wrath seeming to ease when it became clear that she was not going to argue with him.
"With your experience, you know best in these situations. And not only did I put myself in danger, but I jeopardized the baby's welfare, and I amvery sorry about that."
"As well you should be."
Leaning forward, Sophia rested her cheek against his shoulder. "I would never intentionally cause you a moment of worry."
"I know that," he said gruffly. "But dammit, Sophia, I refuse to be known as a man who can't control his own wife."
Sophia smiled against his shoulder. "No one would dare think such a thing." Slowly she eased onto his lap. "Ross...what you did for my brother was so wonderful..."
"I didn't do it for him. I did it for you."
"I know. And I adore you for that." Gently she plucked at the knot of his cravat, loosening the dark silk.
"Only for that?" he asked, his arms tightening around her slender body.
"For a thousand different reasons." Deliberately she rubbed her breasts against his chest. "Let me show you how much I love you. How I need you in every way."
Abandoning the lecture, Ross pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. When he turned back to Sophia, she was smiling, amusement and arousal mingling deliciously inside her.
"What is so funny?" he asked, jerking the hem of her nightgown up to her waist.
"I just thought of how the Cockney phrase for wife is 'trouble and strife,'"she said, gasping a little as his hand settled on her bare stomach. "In my case, it has turned out to be accurate, hasn't it?"
Ross's eyes glinted with an answering smile, and he bent to capture her mouth with his. "Never too much trouble for me to handle," he assured her, and spent the rest of the night proving it.
After the birth of their daughter, Dr. Linley commented that it was the first delivery at which he had feared more for the father's well-being than the mother's. Ross had remained in a corner of the bedroom despite everyone's efforts to make him wait outside. He sat in a straight-backed chair and gripped the edges until the satinwood threatened to splinter in his fingers. Although his expression was blank, Sophia understood his fear. She tried to reassure him in the intervals between contractions that she was all right, that the pain was horrid but manageable, but eventually the effort of giving birth required all her attention, and she almost forgot his presence in the room.
"You're being awfully quiet," Linley said, regarding her with an encouraging smile. "Give a shout when the pains come, if it helps. At this point in labor, I've had women cursing me and my entire ancestry."
Sophia giggled weakly and shook her head. "My husband might faint if I scream."
Epilogue "He'll survive," Linley said dryly.
Toward the end, when the pain finally overwhelmed her, she did let out a cry of distress, and Linley supported her neck with his arm and held a damp white handkerchief before her face. "Breathe through this," he murmured.
Obeying, she inhaled a sweet, dizzying fume that soothed the pain and gave her a surprising moment of euphoria. "Oh, thank you," she said gratefully as he lowered the handkerchief. "What is that?"
At the same time, Ross appeared at the bedside, looking suspicious. "Is that safe?" he asked.
"Nitous oxide," Linley replied calmly. "It is used at 'inhalation frolics,' at which people entertain themselves by taking whiffs. But a colleague of mine, Henry Hill Hickman, proposed using it to relieve pain during dentistry. There has been little interest shown by the medical community so far. However, I've used it a few times to relieve women in labor, and it seems both harmless and effective."
"I don't like the idea of your experimenting with my wife--" Ross began.
Sophia interrupted as another wave of intense pain gripped her. She seized Linley's wrist. "Don't listen to him," she gasped. "Where is that handkerchief?"
With another breath of nitous oxide, and a few hard pushes, Amelia Elizabeth Cannon was born.
The next day, as Sophia sat with the tiny black-haired infant nursing at her breast, she glanced at Ross with a vaguely apologetic smile. Although she was privately thrilled with her newborn daughter, it was usually considered a failure for a woman to give her husband a girl instead of a boy as his firstborn. Predictably, he was too much of a gentleman to express disappointment, but Sophia knew that most of the Cannons, especially Ross's grandfather, had hoped for a male to continue the family line.
As Ross's long fingers traced gently over the silky dark hair that covered his daughter's miniature skull, Sophia spoke softly. "I am certain that we'll have a son the next time."
He looked up from the baby with a puzzled glance. "Another daughter would be equally welcome."
Sophia smiled doubtfully. "You are very kind to say so, but everyone knows that--"
"Amelia is exactly what I wanted," he said firmly. "The most beautiful, perfect baby I've ever seen. Give me a houseful of daughters just like this, and I'll be a happy man indeed." Sophia caught at his hand and brought it to her mouth. "I love you," she said fervently, pressing kisses to the backs of his long fingers. "I'm so glad you didn't marry someone else before you met me."
Ross leaned closer and slid his arm behind her back. His mouth moved over hers in a long, caressing kiss that made her shiver with pleasure. "That would have been impossible," he said, drawing back to smile into her eyes.
"Why?" Sophia leaned back against the support of his arm while the baby continued to nurse at her breast.
"Because, my love...I was waiting for you."
END
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Document ID: d0295ede-ea8e-4279-834b-211fa0c79937
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.6.2012
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ditor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Lisa Kleypas
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