He hugged her tightly. “Then I shall have another reason to live.”
“Even if it would be a girl.”
“Especially if it would be a girl with her mother's eyes.”
“And her Papa's bravado,” Elizabeth replied dryly.
He kissed her eyes and mouth as she laughed. “You would bless me with a child?”
“Is that not my sole purpose in life?” She asked, her eyebrow cocked.
He chuckled. “I suppose some people would expect it to be.”
“I would gladly give you as many children as my body would allow provided you swear one thing.”
“And what would that be, my sweet wife?”
“That you bounce them on your knee while you sit in that obnoxiously large chair below stairs.”
“You hate that chair with some might, do you not?”
“Only because mine seems so very small next to it. It is hardly fair.”
He grinned, kissing her again. “I would bounce babies galore if you were their mother.”
“I shall hold you to that, my lord William. If we made a baby today, a beautiful baby boy with black curls, you shall be bouncing by early spring. What a sight! Fearsome High Lord Darcy with a wailing infant and a cruel wife.”
“A cruel wife?”
“Yes, for refusing to take the child from you while you hear court and take tribute. For leaving on tours while you remain at home. For deciding to never let you touch me again after the pain of childbirth.”
“So, you plan on becoming my mother then?”
She cocked her head in consideration, laughing when he kissed her playfully. Her arms locked around his neck. “I have no fear of giving you children. You are a good man, if not a little coarse and a touch spoiled, but a good man. I think a child would bring out the best in you, show you who you truly are.”
“I have found somebody who brings out the best in me. I hold her in my arms at this very moment and pray she is carrying a child that will not only join us always but be a reminder of the day my wife called me by my name.”
Her face softened and her bottom lip quivered, but he only beamed at her.
“My beautiful, sweet princess,” he whispered.
“My handsome, abhorrent prince,” she teased, kissing the tip of his nose.
Laughing, he finally sat her down, opened the door, and let her walk out.
And, for the first time, Elizabeth entered the Hall on Darcy's elbow, the High Lord's face set into its usual dour mask but for the brightness of his eyes. The High Lady's appled cheeks set tongues wagging immediately, especially once they saw the neat blue silk-trimmed plait trailing down Darcy's back, the same silk embroidered into all of the High Lady's kerchiefs.
The Prince and Princess of Pemberley had finally, it seemed, made amends.
Chapter Eleven
The letter came under the cover of night. A footman took possession and dispatched the missive above stairs to the chambers of the royal couple immediately. The knock fell upon the door, and Darcy answered in a foul mood. Who would dare rouse him out of his hard-won sleep? He had a good right to be irritated and growled a demand of explanation at the disturbance.
“Master, this has just been delivered by express. Forgive the intrusion, but delivery seemed rather urgent.”
Darcy snatched the paper from the footman's hand and grumbled a rough thanks even as he closed the door. He drew back to the bedchamber, lit a candle, and sat down near the fire to read.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked as she leaned over the top of his chair, her voice still sleepy. Her hand snaked down to his bare shoulder, and his arm curled up to lace his fingers through hers.
