“In the nursery,” William said.
Her head turned at once. “He sleeps with me.”
“Tonight, I’ll sleep with you,” he answered simply.
Color rose in her cheeks. “And if he cries?”
“We’ll keep the door open,” he said, steady as command.
She bit her lip, then murmured, “But he can hear us. Not only him. Mrs. Scott, Mary…”
He bent suddenly, brushing his mouth over hers, tender but final. “Then you should not make a sound, my love.”
Her blush deepened; she lowered her eyes. Still, she nodded, and slipped across the hall to lay the baby down in the nursery cradle. William waited, every nerve taut.
When she returned, he didn’t let her speak. He caught her by the waist and drew her in, kissing her hard, as though the months apart could be erased in one breath.
Her hands went to his coat. “Your arm—”
“I’ll manage,” he said roughly. “But you’ll take me, Jane. Ride me. Let me lie beneath you.”
She flushed again, but her fingers moved swiftly over his buttons. He shed the coat, the waistcoat, the linen beneath, untilhis skin gleamed pale in the candlelight. He helped her with the laces of her gown, then stilled his hands when she hesitated.
Her eyes dropped, hesitant. Her body was not as it had been—softer, fuller, her breasts heavy with milk, her waist thickened, faint lines etched along her hips.
But William’s gaze was reverent, almost stricken. He reached up, fingers brushing the curve of her shoulder as he gathered the fabric of her shift. “Lift your arms,” he said gently. She obeyed, and he drew it slowly over her head. “You’re beautiful. God, Jane, you’re beautiful. More than before. You carried my son. You let me back.” He hesitated, then added, hoarsely, “Perhaps I don’t deserve you.”
Her throat tightened. Perhaps he didn’t. But when he lay back, guiding her astride him, she let herself be drawn in. His need was already fierce, straining against her, notching at her entrance. She hovered, breath shallow, then sank down slowly, inch by inch. A moan caught in her throat as he filled her. The stretch was sharp, exquisite, a sudden rush of sensation that made her tremble. It had been so long—too long.
William groaned, his head tipping back. He grasped her hip with his good hand, urging her on. She moved over him, slow at first, testing the rhythm they’d once known by heart. But it came back to her—how to rise and fall, how to draw him deeper, how to take him until she felt nothing else but him. Pleasure surged through her. Her body clenched around him, greedy, aching. He reached the deepest part of her, until she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.
He drew her closer, her breasts brushing his mouth. Without thought, he bent and took one nipple between his lips, suckling until milk flowed over his tongue. She gasped, startled, pushing weakly at his shoulder.
“No—William. That’s for the baby.”
He looked up, wonder in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I forgot myself.” He touched her as if afraid to break her. “But Jane—what a miracle. That your body can give life, that you can feed him from yourself.”
Her face burned. “It feels indecent when you do it.”
“No.” His eyes held hers. “It’s you. And I want to know every part of you. If you’ll let me.”
She wavered, her breath uneven. The child was strong, thriving; she had more than enough. And the feel of his mouth had not repulsed her—it had kindled something else. Slowly, she nodded.
He bent again, gentler this time. The faint sweetness touched his tongue again, and he groaned low in his chest. “Extraordinary,” he whispered against her skin. “I love you, Jane. I love you.”
Her resistance melted. She moved faster now, her hands braced against his chest, her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. He steadied her with his arm, lifting into her, thrusting from beneath until her cries broke loose in ragged gasps. He drank her sounds the way he had drank from her—reverently, hungrily, as though every part of her might sustain him.
Her strength gave way at last. She clung to him, shuddering as pleasure overwhelmed her. He followed, surging deep, his release tearing through him like fire.
She collapsed against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her body shaking in the aftermath. His good arm wrapped tight around her, his lips resting in her hair.
For the first time since their hurried vows, there was no distance, no doubt. Only this: the woman he loved, the mother of his son, in his arms. He did not know how long this peace would last. But for now, it was enough.
* * *
Jane lay with her head on his chest, her hair spilling loose over his bare skin. Her eyes stayed open in the dark. He had told her he loved her, plain and unguarded. She had not said it back. Now she wondered if she should—or if silence kept a part of herself he could never own.
The baby’s wail shattered the quiet. William stiffened beneath her, panic threading his voice. “What’s wrong?”
