Suddenly You(87)

“Hush. That’s ridiculous. The doctor said he’s delivered babies from women much older than you. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Jack picked her up easily and carried her to a small velvet-upholstered armchair, then sat with her in his lap. He picked up the folded linen napkin from the dinner tray and blotted her eyes and cheeks. He was so capable and steady that Amanda felt some of her panic evaporate. Obediently she blew her nose into the napkin and let out a quivering sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back, moving in a slow stroke that calmed her shattered nerves.

He held her for a long time, until her breathing eventually matched the even rhythm of his, and the tears dried to salt trails on her cheeks.

“I didn’t marry you just because of the baby,” Jack said quietly. “I married you because I love you. And if you ever mention the idea of leaving me again, I’ll…” He paused, clearly trying to think of a punishment dire enough. “Well, just don’t,” he finished.

“I’ve never felt as terrible as I do now. Not even when my parents died.”

His deep chest reverberated beneath her ear as he spoke. “Neither have I. Except…I’m so damned glad to hold you. It’s been hell the past few weeks, not being able to talk to you, touch you.”

“Do you really think we could have a baby someday?” she asked in a raw whisper.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Is it what you want?”

“At first it was difficult for me to accept the idea of being a father,” Jack admitted. He kissed the edge of her jawline, and the side of her throat. “But then we started to make plans, and the baby became real to me. And I thought of all the small boys at Knatchford Heath whom I was never able to help or protect, and instead of the old despair, I felt…hope. I realized that at last there was going to be one child in this world I could take care of. It was a new beginning for me. I…I wanted to make his life wonderful.”

Amanda raised her head and stared at him with swimming eyes. “You would have,” she whispered.

“Then let’s not give up hope just yet, peaches. When you’re ready, I’ll devote myself day and night to the task of getting you with child. And if it doesn’t take, we’ll find some other way. God knows there are plenty of children in the world who need a family.”

“You would do that for me?” she asked tremulously, unable to believe that the man who had once been so opposed to the idea of having a family was now prepared to make such a commitment.

“Not only for you.” He kissed the tip of her nose and the soft curve of her cheek. “For myself as well.”

Amanda put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Finally the crushing grief began to ease its iron grip around her heart. She felt a sense of relief that was so acute, it made her light-headed. “I don’t know what to do now,” she murmured.

Jack kissed her again, his mouth hot and tender against her flushed skin. “Tonight you’re going to stop thinking for a few hours, and eat, and rest.”

The thought of food made her wince and grimace. “I couldn’t.”

“You haven’t eaten in days.” He reached for the tray, uncovered the plate of food, and picked up a spoon. “Try a little,” he said firmly. “I’m a great believer in the restorative powers of…” He glanced at the contents of the bowl that had been hidden by the silver-domed cover. “Potato soup.”

Amanda regarded the spoon and his purposeful face, and for the first time in three weeks, a wobbly smile touched her lips. “You’re a bully.”

“And I’m bigger than you,” he reminded her.

She took the spoon from him and leaned over to glance at the velvety-white soup, scattered with chopped watercress leaves. A griddle-cooked muffin reposed on a small plate beside it, as well as a dish of berry pudding heaped with fresh raspberries. Pudding à la framboise, the cook called it, having recently taken a fancy to renaming many of her recipes in French.

Jack surrendered the chair and watched her dip the spoon into the soup. She ate slowly, the warmth of the soup filling her stomach, while Jack sat beside her and frequently held a goblet of wine to her lips. As Amanda drank and ate, the color came back to her face, and she relaxed heavily into the chair. She glanced at the handsome man beside her, and a rush of love nearly overwhelmed her. He made her feel as if anything were possible. Impulsively she caught at his large hand, bringing it to her face. “I love you,” she said.

He stroked her cheek and caressed the line of her jaw with the backs of his knuckles. “I love you more than life, Amanda.” He leaned close and brushed his mouth over hers, gently, as if he understood how bruised and vulnerable she felt…as if he could heal her with a kiss. She lifted her hand to the back of his neck and let her fingertips drift into the thick locks of hair at his nape. She accepted the subtle intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, let him search for the taste of wine, until the kiss seemed to burn with volcanic heat.

She turned her head to the side with a little murmur, feeling drowsy and enervated, her eyes closing as she felt his fingers at the bodice of her gown. One button was released, two, three, in a series of light tugs that caused the concealing fabric to fall away from her skin. His lips drifted to her throat, finding the sensitive place at the side, and he nibbled softly until she gave a faint moan.