Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(105)

“How did you know—” he managed to ask.

“I saw the note. I knew it was Adam's handwriting, and that he meant to harm you. I had to come find you.”

His hold became punishingly tight. “Don't ever put yourself in danger like that again. Not for any reason.”

A wobbling smile touched her lips. “You can't tell me what to do,” she said, blotting her face with her sleeve.

“Don't cry,” he whispered. “It's over now. We're both safe.”

“When I realized Adam might kill you, I knew how empty my life would be without you. I need you.” Her jaw trembled as she tried to master her emotions. “So you'd better stay with me forever, Nikki…or I'll make your life hell.”

“You called me Nikolai,” he said, stroking the curve of her wet cheek.

“Did I?” Emma looked startled at that, and thought for a moment. “Yes, I did,” she said slowly. “I wonder why. Perhaps…I'm beginning to believe in your dream.”

He didn't care about that anymore, not when the future was hanging ripe and sweet before them. “It doesn't matter. Just as long as you love me now, ruyshka.”

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling his head down to hers.

Epilogue

I N THE MONTHS following Lord Adam Milbank's formal indictment and trial for attempted murder, his wife, Charlotte, found the scrutiny of the public, as well as the disdain of high social circles, too much to bear. She fled to her family and home in America, where the other Brixtons closed their protective ranks around her. Found guilty by a jury of his peers, Adam was sentenced to a brief term of imprisonment, and the loss of most of his land and property.

In her private moments Emma thought about Adam with a feeling of guilt, wondering if she could have done or said something that would have kept him from making an attempt on Nikolas's life. Like her, Adam had fallen in love with an illusion, and he had blamed others for his disappointments in life. Thank God she had finally learned better, or she would never have been able to find her hard-won happiness with Nikolas.

During the last months of her pregnancy, Emma's world was narrowed to her own estate and the homes of family and close friends. Women in her condition were discouraged from appearing in public, except in the early stages when they could conceal their bodies with shawls and heavy shrouding. Tasia and a few other women came to visit her regularly, easing the boredom of confinement, but still, there were no trips to the theater, no parties or dances, no riding through the park or walks through London; and worst of all, her work in the menagerie was all but forbidden.

Nikolas had almost carried her bodily from the stables on the afternoon a new horse had been brought there. The bad-tempered animal had been mistreated by his previous owner until he had no trust left in humans. After he had kicked a stablehand who had tried to attend to his festering foot, Emma had gone to try to calm the animal. Nikolas, who had been alerted by a tattletale servant, came to the stables immediately.

Emma had first been guilty and then defiant as her husband had locked his arm around her back and steered her out of the building. “Just let me have a few minutes to gentle him,” she said angrily. “I do it all the time with other animals—you've seen me!”

“That damn horse has bitten and kicked everyone who's come near him,” Nikolas replied curtly, pulling Emma along too fast for her to dig her heels in.

“I can make decisions for myself,” she persisted, although she knew he was right.

“Not while you're carrying my child.”

It had taken a long time for her temper to cool that afternoon. Her anger was directed mostly at herself, and at the fact that for the first time in her life, she was physically dependent on others. She tired so easily these days, and her usual free stride was now beginning to resemble the waddle of a duck.

“It won't last forever,” Nikolas murmured, coming to rest beside her as she settled in bed for an afternoon nap. He cuddled behind her spoon-fashion, his hand sliding gently over her burgeoning stomach and br**sts. Emma felt him smile against the back of her neck. “Soon you'll be back at work in the menagerie, getting bitten and scratched, and happily raking up manure.”

She sighed longingly at the thought. “It's not easy, you know, having the servants do the things I want to do myself. Not only that, but I'm getting so awkward and fat—”

He laughed softly, his palm settling high on her abdomen. “You're slender everywhere but here, ruyshka. Not fat, but pregnant. Russians believe there is nothing more beautiful than a woman in your condition.”

“We're not in Russia,” she grumbled. “We're in England, where an expectant mother is decidedly out of fashion.” Nikolas began to knead the lowest point of her spine, finding sore places and massaging the stiffness out, until Emma sighed in contentment. “Oh, I do love your hands,” she murmured, arching slightly.

“Only my hands?”

“Well, your hands are all I can feel at the moment.”

“What about this?” He pressed his loins against her backside, making her aware of the hard length of his arousal. “I find you enchanting, beautiful…and very desirable,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “What do you think of that, little mother?”

Emma smiled and wriggled slightly. “I think you're a strange man with perverse tastes.” She eased onto her back and circled her arms around his neck. “And I'm very lucky to be your wife.”