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“Very sure.” Breanna caressed his jaw. “I feel as if I've been given my life back. I want to begin it in the most perfect way imaginable—by becoming your wife. I want to be Mrs. Royce Chadwick the instant I can. As for guests, everyone I love is already under this roof, including Grandfather, who's always with us. You and I will begin our life together surrounded by love. The rest is unimportant.”
“Just what I wanted to hear” Royce kissed her fingertips, the delicate pulse at her wrist. “Now that I consider it, a fortnight sounds like forever. Maybe we should make it ten days.”
Breanna laughed. “Stacie and Wells will be crushed if we give them no time to prepare. Besides, I think the prospect of a wedding is just what everyone needs to raise their spirits. Let's allow them a few weeks to savor it. Is a fortnight really that intolerable a waiting period?”
“Yes. But for your sake, I'll try to withstand it.” Royce pressed her palm to his lips. “It won't be easy. I need you to belong to me in every way possible.”
“I do. I will. And after that...” Breanna broke off, sobering as a sudden, worrisome thought intruded. “Royce, we haven't discussed our living arrangements.”
He arched an amused brow. “We've certainly changed bedchambers often enough. Which room would you like to officially make ours?”
Breanna's eyes widened. “You really don't mind?”
“Mind what?”
“Living here. At Medford Manor. I know your memories here haven't exactly been pleasant ones. And you do have your house on Bond Street. I was afraid...”
Royce silenced her with a kiss. “Did you really think I'd take you away from your grandfather's dream?” he breathed into her lips. “Never. We'll use my house when we stay in Town. As for my memories of Medford—they're more than pleasurable. They're miraculous. This is where I met you, fell in love with you, made love to you for the first time. All that outweighs everything else, even Crompton. We'll start over right here, pick a section of the house that's new to us both. A private section, where we're assured of exquisite, utter seclusion. We'll wipe out all the ugly memories, keep only the spectacular ones. We'll redecorate, order all new furniture. Y ou can provide brand-new sketches and needlepoints. And we'll move your porcelain figures, one by one, to our new chambers, designating a place of honor on our nightstand for the statue holding your silver coin. How would that be?”
Tears glistened on Breanna's lashes. “That would be wonderful.”
“Anastasia and Damen's house will be ready by spring. Their babe will arrive not long after. And the family your grandfather prayed for will be well under way.” Royce's midnight gaze darkened. “If I have my way, that family will be growing faster than even he expected.”
Breanna smiled through her tears. “Perhaps that wish is already under way.”
He started. “Breanna, are you saying—?”
“I don't know.” She rolled over until she was lying atop him, her jade eyes filled with tender promise. “But given the dazing man I'm marrying, and the unconventional woman I've become, I suspect our child won't comply with tradition. We've anticipated our wedding vows. Why wouldn't our babe?” She lea over to kiss him, waves of auburn hair tumbling forward to encompass them in a shining cocoon. “Perhaps he or she was conceived this very night”
“Perhaps.” Royce could scarcely speak. The very idea of Breanna carrying his child was almost overwhelming to bear, and his body reacted instantly, hardening to almost painful proportions. He gripped Breanna's hips, lifted them so he could lower her onto his rigid shaft. “How would you feel about
increasing our chances of that happening?” he asked, his voice rough with passion.
“Now?” she managed, her own words unsteady.
“Right now.” He cupped her bottom, pushed deep inside her.
Breanna's breath caught, and she nodded, sinking into Royce's hypnotic spell. “Now would be ideal.”
Epilogue
Me d for d Manor
November 18 24
The two six-year-old girls peeked curiously into the dining room.
The table was set with froe china and silver, and pinpoints of light cast by the gilded chandelier danced off the crystal glasses as the seven adults raised them in a toast. Lord Ryder, the evening's sole guest, beamed from ear to ear, thanking his hosts— the Lockewoods and the Chadwicks—for all they'd done to make this day possible. Then he rose, pivoting toward the sideboard, where Hibbert and Wells stood, and offered a special thanks to Hibbert, mur muring something about the fact that without Hibbe r t, his Emma would never have been restored to him.
Hibbert replied in his customarily gracious manner. Then he and Wells drank, actually abandoning what ever subject they'd been heatedly debating tonight, to join in the festivities. The footmen refilled everyone's glasses, and the chattering resumed. Royce muttered something that made everyone laugh, and turned teasing eyes on Breanna, whose cheeks were tinged with color, but who looked more pleased than embarrassed by whatever her husband had said. Tenderly, Royce pressed her gloved hand to his lips.
“It's not Christmas yet.” Holly Lockewood twisted an auburn curl around her forefinger, studying the adults with curious jade-green eyes. “Are our parents celebrating something?”
“They must be. They're laughing.” Her cousin, Joanna Chadwick, followed her gaze, took in the scene before them. “So's Lord Ryder. Even Wells and Hibbert are smiling between arguments. It must be an important celebration.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Our parents always laugh And they kiss, too. A lot more than most grown-ups do.” Holly gave her cousin a wise look. “Mama says it's a special kind of magic.”
“Magic? What kind of magic?”
