For the first time since his arrival, his mother smiled. Gazing down at her, Dominic found himself wishing to know her better. For years, Lady Harriet had been the stranger who had brought him into the world and then deserted him, but he could see now what a void her absence had left in his life. And it had actually come as something of a shock to find himself warming so readily to the woman he had always despised.
His meeting with her had not gone at all as he had expected. She had greeted him without rancor, and except for shedding a few tears, she hadn't allowed him to feel any guilt over their past relationship. She had accepted him at once, without question, sweeping away the years of neglect and antagonism like so many cobwebs, in a manner that had allowed them both to maintain their self-respect.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his eyes, for his mother reached out to clasp his hand. "Do not pity me, my love," she implored. "Knowing I have you for a son has more than made up for Philippe's sins. And since I married James, I've realized that a normal relationship between a man and a woman can be full of love and companionship and trust."
A soft, private smile curved Dominic's lips. "Indeed, it can," he replied. "Which reminds me—I'd like you to meet my wife."
"Your . . . wife?"
Dominic grinned at his mother. "We were married two days ago by special license. We're on our wedding trip, in fact, but Brie insisted we come to Hampshire before we leave for France. She's anxious to meet you."
"She is here? Dominic, never tell me you left your poor bride to wait outside!"
"Brie thought it best that I speak to you alone. And she isn't 'my poor bride'—but you'll soon see for yourself. I'll bring her to you. She's waiting in the carriage."
"No, I shall come with you," Lady Harriet said quickly.
"You seem concerned that I'll vanish," Dominic teased when she claimed his arm.
"I expect I am," she acknowledged, her gray eyes sparkling. "But then it isn't every day that I gain a son—and a daughter. I've had little practice in exercising my maternal instincts, though, so if you find yourself suffering, you must bear it with good grace."
She beamed up at him so unashamedly that Dominic laughed. "Give me due credit, maman," he said as he bent to kiss her cheek. "When I return to England, I intend to play the prodigal son and allow you to spoil me to your heart's content. Now, come. I want you to meet my lovely wife."
Epilogue
Kent, England, 1818
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Brie propped her chin in her hands and smiled at her sleeping husband. Dominic looked so handsome lying in the huge four-poster bed where the Earls of Stanton had slept for generations, in spite of the fact that his ebony hair was tousled and a faint growth of beard shadowed his jaw.
His coloring was a startling contrast to the white bedsheet, for his tan was darker than ever after spending most of the summer under the Mediterranean sun. He was lying on his back, one arm flung above his head, the sheet drawn up to his waist.
Brie let her gaze roam lovingly over his bronzed torso, admiring the corded, rippling muscles of his chest and shoulders and feeling a little disappointed to be denied a view of his narrow hips and iron-thewed legs. His nakedness no longer embarrassed or shocked her. As his wife, she had every right to look at him or even touch him whenever she liked. It was one of the joys of being married, just as waking up next to him in the morning was a joy.
As she watched Dominic sleeping, a surge of possessive pride swept through her, mingling with the love and happiness that filled her heart. She wanted to touch him, to draw her fingers along his sinewy length and arouse him the way he was so fond of doing to her—but it was still rather early.
When she had awakened, Brie had been unable to go back to sleep, all because of the burgeoning excitement within her. She had quietly slipped out of bed and opened the heavy damask draperies, letting the soft autumn sunlight stream in the windows and warm the large master bedroom they shared. Then she had put on Dominic's robe—a sapphire-blue dressing gown that he had bought just for her to wear—and had come back to bed, taking up a position where she could observe him to her heart's content.
Critically studying Dominic, Brie decided that he had changed during the past few months of their marriage. That hard, cynical look he had worn so frequently had softened greatly. Now, with his aristocratic features relaxed in sleep, he looked peaceful and content, even happy.
He stirred then, as if he had sensed her watching him, and opened his eyes. Seeing Brie, he gave her a devastatingly sweet smile and stretched lazily. "If you're trying to tempt me, my love," he murmured in a voice still muffled by sleep, "you are succeeding admirably." Reaching up, he threaded his fingers through her tumbled hair, lightly cupping the nape of her neck.
Brie returned his smile and bent to brush his lips with a kiss, but when she tried to pull back, Dominic's hold upon her tightened. He drew her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her and deepening his kiss.
It was several moments before he allowed Brie to come up for air. When at last he let her go, she snuggled against his hard length, resting her head on his shoulder. "Actually," she murmured, "I was wondering what had happened to the cynical, arrogant rake I married."
"He's still there," Dominic replied, pressing his lips against her hair. "Only he has mellowed considerably. I expect it's because a sharp-tongued, enchanting vixen captured his heart."
Brie laughed. "Is that so?"
"You know it is, minx." Tilting her face up to his, Dominic kissed her once more, long and lovingly.
When he finally released her, Brie sighed with contentment. She no longer doubted that Dominic loved her, but it was reassuring to feel the passion in his kisses and to realize that his desire showed no signs of diminishing. She had always known that he had wanted her, of course, but even when she had agreed to marry him, she hadn't been certain that he truly loved her. Dominic had spent their entire honeymoon proving it to her.
Brie smiled, remembering the delightful wedding journey they had taken. After visiting his mother in Hampshire, Dominic had immediately whisked Brie off to Paris. He had shown her both the glamorous and seedy sides of the city, giving her a taste of the wild life he had enjoyed before meeting her, then had taken her to Italy to see the cultural beauties of Milan, Venice, and Rome.
From there, they had gone to Spain and rented a villa on the Mediterranean, spending two glorious months swimming in the sea and basking in the sun and making love on the beach in the moonlight. Brie had turned as brown as a gypsy, but when she had complained about the freckles sprinkling her nose, Dominic had kissed every last one, saying that ladies with lily- white complexions bored him and that her tan only made her a more fitting mate for him.
They hadn't stayed the entire time in the villa, but had spent a week in a mountain retreat belonging to a friend of Dominic's, just the two of them. Brie had been surprised to learn how close the mountains were to the sea—merely an hour or two by horseback—but she had been even more astonished by the accommodations. The place resembled a fortress. It overlooked a narrow pass and according to Dominic, had been used as a hideaway by Spanish guerrillas during the Peninsular war. The enormous, crude dwelling which had been built into the rock served as their living quarters, while the adjoining caves stabled their horses and pack mule. The conditions were far more primitive than anything she had ever experienced, but Brie had never been happier.
Afterward, they had returned to England, going directly to Dominic's country seat in Kent. Brie had fallen in love with the place—a huge, sprawling brick mansion set amid a beautifully landscaped park and surrounded by orchards and fertile fields. Its loveliness made up a little for the fact that she had had to leave Greenwood upon her marriage. Dominic had promised that they would spend several months in Rutland each year, but still she missed her home.
Greenwood was being well cared for in the interim. Katherine continued to manage the house and servants, while Tyler, Greenwood's steward, had been
given full responsibility for the farms. They had also hired a talented young man to assist John Simms with the stables and eventually replace him as head trainer.
Brie actually had little time for homesickness, though. Besides having to learn how to run Dominic's household, she had numerous other duties that kept her fully occupied. Initially she had been a bit nervous about assuming the role of lady of the manor, but she soon realized her worries were unfounded. Her background had adequately prepared her to fit into the simple Kentish farming community, even if she was the wife of a major landowner and a countess, as well.
She had found to her surprise that Dominic's tenants were delighted to welcome her. During their first month in residence when Dominic had taken her around the estate to introduce her to all the farmers and their families, Brie had been warmed by her reception. She had also been embarrassed at times when Dominic was congratulated upon his marriage, for he was frequently wished luck in siring an heir for the estate.
Shortly after they had settled in, Brie had been required to play hostess. Dominic, intent on showing off his new bride, had invited Jason and Lauren for a visit, and then Julian had come for a while. Following his departure, Dominic's mother and stepfather had arrived. There had been a certain wariness between Dominic and his stepfather at first, but when Sir James had seen that the long-standing rift between mother and son had been totally mended, he had accepted Dominic wholeheartedly.
The Torpals' visit had been delightful, if a little unusual. Lady Harriet had virtually taken over the garden where she had spent much of her girlhood, while Sir James had alternately divided his time between surveying Dominic's farms and fishing.
Thinking of the Torpals now, Brie smiled. Sir James was a good-natured older gentleman with a balding head, a stout frame, and a passion for crop rotation. He must have been very different from his wife's first husband, but it was obvious Lady Harriet loved him.
Lady Harriet herself was a delight, and Brie had greatly enjoyed getting to know her. She had an intelligence and a propensity for mockery that reminded Brie of Dominic, although the sarcasm and the sardonic wit, coming from Lady Harriet, had a gentler mein.
"I like your mother," Brie observed, remembering Lady Harriet's many kindnesses to her during the past month.
Dominic pulled idly at one of Brie's russet curls. "So do I," he replied soberly. "My biggest regret is that I spent all those years refusing to see her or even to speak to her."
"But she has forgiven you, Dominic."
"Mmm," he murmured noncommittally. "At least she seems happy now, married to Sir James."
Brie raised herself up on one elbow and gazed down into her husband's eyes. "I'm happy, too, being married to you. I never thought I could be this happy."
Tenderly, Dominic drew a finger along Brie's cheek to her lips. "Nor I," he said softly. "I never thought I would love anyone the way I love you. You fill my life completely, making me forget the void that once was in my heart. I couldn't live without you, you know."
Brie smiled, his admission making her heart swell with joy. But then Dominic tilted back his dark head and chuckled. "What is so amusing?" she asked him curiously.
When he met her gaze, his gray eyes were dancing with laughter. "Jason once said something like that to me about Lauren and I sneered at him. Now I find myself spouting the same sentimental drivel and meaning every word of it. What have you done to me, Brie?"
Pleased to think she had affected Dominic as much as he had her, Brie relaxed against him. But she listened with growing alertness when Dominic spoke again.
"All I need now is to become a father. Jason has already chided me unmercifully about what a model husband I've become, but I expect he would really have something to crow about then."
Brie threw him a concerned glance. "Would next spring be early enough?"
For a moment Dominic lay very still. Then he grasped Brie's shoulders and held her away to stare at her. "A baby?" he asked, sounding shocked. "Are you sure? How do you know?"
She searched his face, trying to decide whether he was pleased or not by the news. He seemed a little stunned. "Your mother guessed somehow," Brie said hesitantly. "Yesterday, when you were fishing with Sir James, she had your doctor examine me. I'm nearly two months pregnant."
Dominic stared a moment longer, then rolled Brie over, pinning her beneath him and entangling her legs in the sheets. Almost reverently, he loosened the belt of her wrapper and slipped his hand next to her skin, holding his palm against her abdomen. "A child," he breathed. Then his gaze sliced back to Brie. "You've known for a whole day and never told me?"
Brie fought the urge to squirm in his penetrating gaze. "Last night was my first formal dinner and it hardly seemed the right time to tell you with so many guests present. Besides, I wasn't sure what you would say. I was a little afraid you wouldn't want a child."
"Why the devil would you think that?"
Relieved by his puzzled frown, Brie trailed a finger down a corded muscle in his neck to the fading scar on his shoulder. "I suppose because you never mentioned wanting children. And you still haven't told me how you feel about becoming a father."
"Feel? Why . . . I'm delighted . . . I think. I was hoping to have you all to myself for a little while." Then Dominic's mouth suddenly twisted in a grin as he did some rapid calculations. "Two months? I'll wager it happened while we were in the mountains—that night in front of the hearth."
Remembering the particular night he was referring to, Brie blushed in spite of herself. It had been a wild, delicious time she would never forget. She and Dominic had spent the entire night making love beneath luxurious furs in front of a roaring fire, for even though it had been summer, the evenings were chilly in the mountains.
"I wonder what he will be like," Brie mused, realizing that their child might have been conceived in a guerrilla's hideaway.
Dominic had been following that same line of thought and his grin deepened. "Staid and proper like his mother, I imagine. Unless it's a girl. Then she'll probably be feisty and uncontrollable."
Brie might have pointed out that she was no longer feisty or uncontrollable, and that she too had mellowed since their marriage, but just then Dominic lowered his head and began planting light kisses along the side of her neck.
Brie arched instinctively, giving him greater access to her throat while she curled her fingers in his dark hair. She had not meant to linger in bed with him after telling him her news, for they had guests who would be expecting to see them at breakfast, but she found it difficult to move. The sheet had somehow twisted around her legs, and one of Dominic's muscular thighs was draped over hers, holding her prisoner. Even then, Brie might have escaped with a little effort, but his nibbling kisses were drugging her senses and lighting fires in her that were impossible to ignore. She could feel the heat of his naked body through the silk of her robe and knew she would shortly be feeling his bare skin against her unless she stopped him at once.
"We should get up," she murmured halfheartedly. "Your stepfather invited me to ride with him after breakfast."
Unknowingly, she had hit upon the one subject that was certain to grab her husband's attention. Dominic immediately ended his amorous advances and raised his head. "One moment, ma belle. Don't you think we should talk about this?"
"Talk about what?"
"Your riding. It could be dangerous. You might injure yourself or the child."
Brie searched Dominic's face, finding only concern for her in his gaze. "But the doctor said it was safe, at least until the baby starts to show."
"All the same I don't want you near any of the fractious beasts you are so fond of riding."
Her eyes widened. "Do you mean I can't ride for seven months?"
Seeing her half-anxious, half-mutinous expression, Dominic couldn't repress a smile. "I didn't say that. I merely want to approve your mounts."
"You'll probably give me only broken-down nags," Brie muttered, although she realized the wisdom of curtailing h
er activities somewhat.
Dominic raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't be insulting, my love. There isn't a horse in my entire stable worth under two hundred guineas, unless you count that bay of yours."
"But Jester has improved, Dominic, even you have to admit that."
"He hasn't improved enough to carry my most precious—my two most precious possessions," he amended, covering her stomach again with his hand. "And if I catch you near that animal, I'll beat you till you can't even sit a horse."
Somewhat mollified by his concern, Brie raised her arms and wrapped them around Dominic's neck. "Very well," she replied meekly. "I won't go near Jester."
He frowned, suspicious of her sudden capitulation. "I mean it. Brie. I don't want you endangering our child. I'll forbid you to ride entirely if I must. And just in case you are planning to use those feminine charms of yours to try and convince me otherwise, let me warn you this is one subject where no amount of persuasion will make me change my mind."
When Brie's eyes started to flash, Dominic though it wise to head off a direct confrontation. "As for this morning," he said, changing the subject, "I was hoping to have your company. A friend of mine in Wrotham has a mare who might be a good match for Diablo, and I'd like your opinion. Why don't you drive over with me? We could invite Sir James along, and my mother, too. We'll make a day of it."
"I'd love to," Brie admitted grudgingly, "but I think I'm being out-maneuvered. You just mean to keep me from riding."
The grin Dominic gave her was slow and wicked. "Not at all, chérie," he said huskily as he again lowered his lips to her throat. "In fact, I insist you ride this morning. My only stipulation is that you choose me as your mount."
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