He shook out of the thought.
Indeed, timing was everything. It mattered in saving lives and, to Rob’s frustration, mattered in whom to marry.
At Fiona’s invitation, the marquess took a chair and they all sat relaxing on the terrace while watching the sunset. It was a little after eight o’clock now and the sun would not set for another hour or two, but the colors were already breathtaking. However, they were not the fiery hues that had filled the sky last night.
Tonight, the sky was a mix of softer colors, pinks, yellows, and the palest shades of purple against the blue expanse.
“I shall not take up more of your time,” the marquess said, watching his boys devour more cake. “But I would be honored if you would both join me for supper tomorrow evening. It is the least I can do. Indeed, it feels so little in repayment for saving my boys. Please accept my invitation.”
Fiona glanced at Rob and waited for his nod before responding. “We shall be delighted.”
“Good. Then I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
The boys bowed to Rob and then ran to fiercely hug Fiona.
She laughed and hugged each one back. “You had better be on your best behavior from now on,” she teased, “for I shall be asking your father for a full report tomorrow.”
They nodded. The younger lad’s smile was quite broad, since he was shorter and had managed to plant his nose in Fiona’s bosom while embracing her. Truly, these boys were far too precocious for their ages.
Would their father try anything with her?
Fiona gave Rob’s shoulder a light swat to regain his attention once they were alone again. “You looked like you wanted to strangle Milbury. I thought he was very nice.”
“Hewasnice.” But his boys were already plotting to make Fiona their mother, and the marquess did not seem very far behind in thinking to take her as his wife.
Fiona swatted his shoulder again when he mentioned it. “Do not be ridiculous.”
But it seemed obvious to him. Besides, the little hairs on the back of his neck were prickling again. He hated that it was happening now. It could only mean one thing…Milbury was going to propose to Fiona.
Perhaps not this week or next, nor even next month. But it was going to happen eventually, and it made Rob physically ill just thinking about it.
Fiona must have sensed his turmoil, for she was quite pleasantly responsive to him when he joined her in bed that evening. Perhaps she also felt this was a possibility and wanted to give him more memories between them to savor over the years.
Or maybe he was thinking too much about losing her to another man, and because of this was particularly attentive—and effective—in sending her soaring to new heights.
He watched in wonder as she shattered in starlight.
This was what she called his pleasuring her. Starlight.
He did not know what to call the intensity of his own release…fire, perhaps. Maybe wildfire. Possibly a raging inferno, for this was what roared through his veins whenever he touched her and embedded himself inside of her.
No precautions taken. Just raw intensity and desire.
Nor would Fiona consider taking any precautions, because she thought herself barren.
However, each time they coupled, every time he invaded her sweet, tight core, Rob silently prayed for the miracle of conception.
He’d marry her in a trice if they were ever so blessed. He would marry her, love her to the depths of his soul, and always protect her. This was what he hoped for and had only ever wanted.
Give Fiona this miracle.
Please.
“Why so pensive, Rob?”
“Am I?” He caressed her as they lay beside each other, hot and breathing heavily after a particularly splendid coupling.
“And why are you now frowning?”
