Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(70)

“So you love me?” His mouth quirked into a smug smile.

She smiled, giddy inside. “Hmm-mm. And you love me?”

“I do.” His expression turned sly. “Enough to know your actual birthday.”

“You’re still harping on that!” She half laughed, half snorted. “Nice try. You’re going to have to do better than that. It might take years of loving me to get that out.”

His mouth lowered to hers again. “Years of loving you sounds simple enough. I can content myself that I shall have it out of you one day.”

Grier slipped her arms around his neck, ecstatic to think of those long years ahead. Of them sharing it all together. It was more than she ever hoped for . . . more than she dared dream.





Epilogue



Eight months later . . .

Sunlight filtered through the mullioned windows lining the lavish bedchamber. Grier crossed her arms and stared at the beams of light enviously. “When can I get out of bed? This is absurd, you know.”

“Not until the physician declares it safe,” her husband announced beside her where he reclined upon the bed. Unlike her he was dressed for the day and had already enjoyed a morning ride. She could smell the crisp autumn air on him.

She punched the bed between them in a display of pique. “Holy hellfire—I’m having a baby. Women do it every day. I’m not dying.”

He set down his paper and gave her his full attention. “Be that as it may, you’re not just any woman. Not to Grandfather and especially not to me.”

“Don’t tell me you agree with all this cosseting. Truly. I’m fine. A little nauseated in the mornings. Nothing more. I’m fit and hale. The physician will say whatever your grandfather wants him to say. He’s terrified of the old goat.”

Sev’s lips twitched. “Most people are.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not.” At least not anymore. As apprehensive as she’d been upon first arriving at the palace, she quickly realized the king was more bark than bite. He was not about to tell the grandson he so obviously loved that he’d disappointed him or made a mistake in marrying her. Although the king looked at her through narrowed eyes at first, he’d held his tongue. And even that had changed in recent months as he observed Grier and Sev together. His narrow-eyed gaze had vanished altogether when she announced that she was increasing. Now she could do no wrong. Newfound life danced in his eyes.

“Your lack of fear is a fact which impresses him endlessly. Oh, and the fact that you’ve so quickly managed to find yourself with child.”

This time Grier grinned. She stroked Sev’s arm. “I cannot take credit for that alone. You see, I happen to be married to this very virile man who bothers me to no end with his insatiable appetites.”

He chuckled. “And you’ve been unwilling, have you?”

Sev kissed her until they both grew heated and anxious, writhing against each other, she in her nightgown, he in his jacket and trousers. She slid her hands beneath his jacket, palming his firm chest through his shirt. “I know the perfect cure for me.”

“Do you now?” he asked huskily against her mouth.

She cupped his hardness beneath his breeches. “You can call it an early present, too.”

“Present,” he murmured against her throat. “For what?”

“Oh, for tomorrow.”

He pulled back to gaze at her with a strange expression on his face. “What’s tomorrow?

She smiled coyly. “I suppose I can tell you.” She slid a hand over his hard belly, loving how the taut muscles rippled beneath her fingers. “Tomorrow’s my birthday. And now you know that you’ve married an older woman.”

A wide smile stretched his lips. “Not quite.”

She cocked her head.

He continued, “You see . . . tomorrow’s my birthday, too.”

She stilled. “You jest.”

He laughed and the sound vibrated through her. “This is rich! We have the same birthday.”

“We’re the same age?” She shook her head, marveling.

Chuckling, he kissed her again, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Which begs the question . . .”

“Hmm?” she murmured, then gasped with pleasure as his hand found her sensitive breast.

“What time of day were you born?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. Lowering her head, she whispered against his lips, “You’ll have to work very hard to earn that information.”

And he did.





They may argue the precise

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Silk Is For Seduction

By New York Times bestselling author

Loretta Chase

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Brilliant and ambitious dressmaker Marcelline Noirot is London’s rising star, and she’s determined to gain the patronage of the most talked about lady of the ton: the Duke of Clevedon’s intended bride. To get to her, though, Marcelline must win over Clevedon, whose standards are as high as his morals are . . . not. The prize seems worth the risk—but this time Marcelline’s met her match. Clevedon can design a seduction as irresistible as her dresses; and what begins as a flicker of desire soon ignites into a delicious inferno . . . and a blazing scandal.