Page 84 of Distracting the Duke

She gasped, and moved closer. “Oh!” she exclaimed in admiration. “It’s the Pajou Cupid. Is it Cupid?”

“Who else?” he queried, his voice tempting and low. “Pajou always intended the statues to be displayed together, I believe. They were carved from the same block of Carrara marble. They make a fine pair, don’t you think?”

She ran a finger slowly over the decidedly adult Cupid’s long hair, his delicately fashioned hands, the bow and quiver he carried over his shoulder, and the piece of marble tree stump that strengthened his legs.

“It’s remarkable,” she whispered, leaning in close, then walking around to admire the little piece from every angle.

“It’s entirely yours, Clara, to do with as you will. Although, I hope you agree there can be no better situation for these two deities than right here.”

“It’s fortunate that Cupid has a well-positioned drape, Marcus, or the ladies of the ton would be quite shocked as they enter our portals.”

“I’m not averse to doing the odd shocking thing,” he admitted with a roguish smile.

She flushed, remembering how her superbly muscled husband had exerted his strength, balance, and control in their bed that morning. Almost certainly, their activity in the bedchamber would have shocked everyone they knew…but that was a secret most satisfying to keep.

“I fear I can’t measure up to the proportions of the Venus,” she stated, stepping toward him and holding his gaze.

“Only in that you are slightly too tall, but I have no objection to that. I, of course, am more than equal to the Cupid.”

“Oh really?” she queried, tilting her head. “You mean you go around interfering in other people’s affairs of the heart, while abandoning your own wife because she’s curious to see what you look like?”

“You know damn well what I mean, woman!”

How she loved to goad and tease him, to see the light of combat in his eyes—a light that promised an interesting retribution on the next occasion they were in private.

“I trust you like your gift,” he said, his face suddenly solemn.

She hugged him close. “How could I not? I just hope the cost wasn’t too dear.”

“Nothing is too much for you, my love.”

She gave him her warmest smile. “I love to hear you say that, but don’t forget we’re meant to be putting some money toward the renovations at Wroxham soon.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. I was thinking we should go up there in a while and discuss our plans.”

“Let’s not leave it too long. I need to be fit to travel.”

“Oh?” He was instantly alive with concern. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I’m not unwell. But Marcus—”

Her voice caught, and her breathing went shallow. She’d thought she was prepared for this moment, but it seemed near impossible even to put the words in order, let alone utter them. She looked about for something to anchor herself to, in the sea of tearful joy that threatened to engulf her.

When she looked up, he stood as still as the two statuettes. He must have guessed—for she’d never before seen a look of such intense hope on his beautiful face.

“Curse it, I’m going to cry,” she said. “I really didn’t want to be a watering pot, but I’m just so pleased, you can’t imagine—”

“You’re with child? Are you sure?”

She nodded mutely, her gaze never leaving his face, eager to enjoy every nuance of his expression.

The years fell away from him as Marcus stepped forward to take her into his arms, his face as bright as a child’s. As handsome as the children they would have together.

Yes, children.

For now she knew she wasn’t barren, she had no intention of stopping at just one.

Cupping her face, he pushed her hair back tenderly from her brow, then kissed her delicately on her eyelids, cheeks, and lips. When his face brushed hers, she felt the dampness of his tears and clung to him, half laughing, half sobbing.