by Kate Rolin
Still in his arms, Olivia looked around. It was very masculine and smelled of him. A fire burned in the large fireplace, giving the room an intimate feel. And it was blessedly free of anything green.
She looked up at Cyrus and found she could wait no longer herself. Reaching behind his head, she pulled his mouth to hers as he pushed the door closed with his boot.
He carried her, slowly now, to his large mahogany bed and gently laid her on it. He continued kissing her, moving his mouth slowly to just below her left ear, before making his way down her throat.
“I love you, Cyrus.” Olivia sounded breathless.
Cyrus paused and lifted his head to look intently into her eyes. His own reminded her once again of how they had looked when she was young—of sunlight on a cup of tea.
“And I love you, Olivia. Until my last breath, I will devote myself to loving you.” He bent his head again to her neck, intending to do just that.
Olivia whispered, “Now. This is perfection.”
And they were lost.
Epilogue
One year later.
Olivia remained in bed far past her usual time to get up for the fifth straight day since they—and Josef—had returned from traveling on the continent. Cyrus walked in, concern knitting his brow at finding her still in bed—again.
“Olivia, you aren’t well. Let me send for the doctor.”
“Nonsense. I’m merely exhausted after our trip.”
“Well, I’ll have Cook send up some breakfast.”
At the mention of food, Olivia blanched. “No! I’m…I’m not hungry now. Maybe later.”
Cyrus’s nostrils flared and his dark eyes flashed. He could clearly see Olivia was unwell. He wouldn’t stand by and watch as whatever disease she must have contracted overseas overtook her. “That’s it. I’m sending for the doctor, end of discussion.”
Olivia smiled, appearing all too calm. “I’m afraid what I have can’t be helped by a doctor.”
Cyrus froze. Dear heavens, did Olivia know something he didn’t? Was it far worse than he thought? Did she think to spare his feelings?
Olivia, however, had been monitoring the situation for the past two or three months—while still on their trip. She had wanted to wait until she was sure, and now…
“Well, don’t look so forlorn about it,” she teased. “What did you expect with the way you love me quite often—and quite thoroughly, I might add. I know Josef calls you Papa. Do you wish for this little one to call you that as well?” Olivia was grinning now at Cyrus’s stunned face.
“But…I thought I…that’s impossible…”
“Cyrus, you’ve always been one to shoulder all of the blame yourself, but did you never think of the possibility that you were not even part of the reason you and Lydia never had children? And I assure you, not only is it possible, it’s true. Because no other man is the father of this baby…our baby.”
Olivia put a hand to her stomach then, that slight blush appearing on her cheeks. Cyrus continued to stare until her words finally sunk in. She jumped, startled, when he let out a yell and took a leap towards her. “You’re having a baby! We’re…having a baby!”
Olivia laughed with him in his excitement when suddenly, he sobered, and piercing her with his gaze, made his way over to her in their bed. He crawled in next to her and placed his hand on top of hers, over their baby.
“Olivia, I love you more than you could possibly know.” He then bent his head and placed a kiss on her stomach. “And I love you, little one.”
“Maybe he will be tall and dark like his father.”
Looking back at her, he saw tears in her eyes. “Or, maybe she will be a beauty like her mother—with auburn hair, sapphire eyes, and that easy blush. No, that won’t do—no boy could resist her. If she’s a girl, she had better be homely for my sake—ow!”
Olivia had jabbed her elbow into his ribs. He pulled her into his arms then and gave her a gentle kiss.
“Cyrus?”
“Hmm?” Olivia had pulled her head back, but he was not ready to let her go and continued placing kisses on her neck.
“I know we made this baby, but I fear I’m awfully forgetful these days. A symptom of the pregnancy I suppose.”
“Mhmm.” Only half-listening, Cyrus moved to kiss just below her right ear.
“Well, it seems I’ve forgotten how it must have happened. Do you think you can show me again? Just to remind me, of course.”
Cyrus was listening now. His head shot up just briefly to see the mischief in her eyes.
Olivia saw his darken and that wicked half-grin reappeared. His voice was low when he answered, “Gladly, love.”
He lowered his mouth to hers…
And he reminded her.
* * *
[1] From ‘Verses on the arrival of the great musician Haydn in England.’ 1791. (By Dr. Burney.)