The Wagered Wife
Page 24
Taking the missive with him, Trevor went in search of his wife. He found her in the garden playing hide and seek with all three children and their nursemaid. Caitlyn strolled toward him, leaving the children at play under the watchful eye of the maid.
Seeing the paper he held, she said, “Is something amiss, love?”
“No, not at all.” He frowned. “Should you be running about like this?”
“Now, Trevor, you know very well I need to exercise.”
“Hmmph.”
She laughed and waved at his paper. “What have you there?”
“A letter from Marcus. He has invited us to this year’s Harvest Festival at Timberly.”
“He plans to renew the family tradition, then?”
“Yes. Proper mourning for first father, then Gerald, effectively eliminated the festival the last two years.”
“And you wish to go.” She smiled indulgently.
“Well—yes. It would afford opportunity to see Melanie and Andrew as well. And,” he could hear his own eagerness mounting, “Marcus is also inviting one of my comrades from the Peninsula days—Captain Berwyn. He is now a baronet.”
“How did Marcus come to know him?” Her voice showed casual curiosity.
“Hmm. I am not sure.” He consulted the letter again. “Apparently something to do with this ward Marcus inherited along with the earldom. Small world, what?”
“It would be nice to see Melanie again.”
“Aunt Gertrude will be there, too.”
“Wonderful! And the countess?”
“I doubt Miranda will be there,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her.
She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “You know very well I was referring to the dowager countess—my inimitable mama-in-law.”
“We are spared. My mother is still in Italy.”
Caitlyn did not say so, but Trevor knew his mother’s absence would make the proposed visit more attractive to his wife.
“I assume the invitation includes the children,” she said.
“Of course. The Harvest Festival would not be the same without multitudes of children.”
She laughed. “I see—they are part of the ‘harvest’—is that it?”
“You might say that.” He gave her a smug grin, then turned serious. “My only concern is whether you should travel such a distance.” He slid his arm around her waist and steered her to a more secluded area of the garden.
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You must not worry. It is very early yet. I hardly show—even when I have few clothes on,” she said with a blush and a teasing smile.
“True.” He allowed his hand to rest on the barely perceptible swelling of her abdomen. He nuzzled her neck just below her ear. “And even with all these clothes on, you are a very enticing bit, my wife.” His voice was husky.
“Trevor! It is the middle of the afternoon!”
“So?” He laughed.
“So. Save your enticement—your children are demanding attention.”
And sure enough, insistent calls of “Mama!” and “Papa!” penetrated his consciousness.
He gave an exaggerated sigh and kissed her deeply. “Tonight, my sweet.”
“Tonight,” she murmured, her lips lingering on his, her promise a symbol of happiness that he might once never have imagined.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wilma Counts lives in Nevada. She is currently working on her fifth Zebra regency romance, THE TROUBLE WITH HARRIET, the story of Marcus, his precocious ward and the troublesome woman with whom he shares guardianship. Look for THE TROUBLE WITH HARRIET in July 2001. Wilma loves hearing from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response, or you may e-mail her: wilma@ableweb.net
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Copyright © 2001 by Wilma J. Counts
ISBN: 978-0-8217-6806-8
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