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‘I believe everything is in working order,’ Eden said. ‘But we had better check again.’ He dropped his head to nuzzle into the curve of her neck, and she could feel his mouth smiling. ‘How long is it since I told you I loved you?’ he asked, his voice muffled.

‘Several minutes, I feel quite neglected.’

‘Do you?’ He sat up, frowning at her.

‘No.’ Maude shook her head. ‘I feel very much loved. Eden, did I ever say how much I admire you for what you did—going to my father, confronting the Ravenhursts, making peace with your mother? I should never have lectured you about pride, I have too much myself, and yet you took my rejection and you forgave my lack of trust and you gave me—this.’

‘Because I love you. You taught me how to love, showed me all the kinds of love. I thought that I could never be fit for any woman to love, that all I could give in return was dust and ashes and, eventually, pain. You saved me, Maude, healed me. I would give you my life; all I could give you was my pride.’

‘And your love. I have thought of something else you may give me.’ Maude reached out and pulled him down so his body slid against hers, fitted as though he had been designed for her. ‘How many children would you like, Eden?’

She had been afraid to ask him that, afraid his own childhood would have killed that instinct in him. Then his mouth curved in that lazy, sensual, thoughtful smile that made her blood tingle. ‘One for me, one for you, one for us. All to love.’ His hand stroked down over the gentle curve of her belly. ‘All made from love.’

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