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“Theodora?” She looked to the deerhound by their feet and then back to the marzipan candy. The color of it was the only resemblance to the dog. “It’s…it’s…”
“I made it. So it’s not of the same quality as the others—far from it. Cook chuckled a few times as I tried to make it.”
“You made it?”
He nodded.
“It’s my favorite. I’m going to save this one.” She picked it up, turning it in her fingers. There, a leg, maybe two. And maybe that was an ear perking up from the top. Her husband was not an artist. Yet it was perfect. Tears welled in her eyes.
“What? No—this wasn’t supposed to make you cry.” His thumbs lifted to her face, wiping her cheeks.
“No.” She set the dog creation down and grabbed his wrists, stopping the motion. “It’s perfect—so perfect that you did this—all of this—and it hurts my heart and then the tears just started. I’m happy—too happy.” She’d only told him the story of what her grandmother did at Christmas once, but he had remembered every detail.
Of course he had. He always listened to her. He always had.
His eyebrows cocked. “So it’s close enough to what your grandmother did? I wanted to attempt it before the babe is born, so I get it right for the both of you for the rest of our lives.”
“It’s just as grandmother did it.” Her eyes went wide. “Except you sent me on the journey alone.”
A sheepish smile quirked his mouth. “I didn’t know if it would make ye happy or sad, so I didn’t want to impose.”
“It made me happy. Very, very happy.” The brightest smile overtook her face, so brilliant her cheeks hurt.
“You’re not lying to me?”
“I’m happy, more than you could ever know.” Her hands clasped onto the sides of his face. “And do you remember last year how I got the best present ever—you?”
A flash of inordinate swagger crossed his dark blue eyes. “It is self-serving to say, but, yes. But I can say it only because I got you as my best present.”
“I think I have an even better one for you this year.”
“I already have ye, Karta. I can want for nothing else.”
“Not even for this babe to arrive?”
“What? Now?” His jaw dropped, his look hardening on her. “Our babe? It is coming? Ye are positive?”
“I think I am. The pangs started once I got out of bed, just like the midwife described.”
His eyes darkened, his mouth going to a terse line.
“Dom, you are not pleased?”
“Pleased?” He looked away from her, his jaw shifting back and forth for several long breaths.
A moment where she couldn’t read what was in his eyes.
She set her palm to his cheek, tugging his face back toward her. “You are not pleased?”
His blue eyes suddenly softened, tears brimming in them. His mouth opened, his voice a rumbling whisper as he gently set his palms around the mound of her hard belly. “A babe. Our babe. How could I not be pleased? All of this, our life, is more than I ever could have hoped for.”
His trunks of arms wrapped around her, encasing her fully, even with the extra girth of the babe.
Always protected. Always his.
Just as she’d always dreamed it could be.
