It scampered down the entry, small paws slipping and sliding over the slick marble floor. One of its paws caught on its long droopy ears, and it face-planted—and tumbled arse-over-head. Apparently, Fitz and Bloodhound puppies had a lot in common.
“That’s why,” Mrs. Smith’s amused voice floated to him as Fitz hurried after the puppy and scooped it into his arms.
He held it out in front of him, its little tongue hanging out of its wrinkly, tan face. The pup was black as night except for four brown, blurry, flailing paws and a tan face that darkened to black just around the muzzle. Fitz had to admit, he was a cute little scamp.
He strode back to the basket and plopped the offending pup back inside. “Stay,” he demanded in a firm, low voice. That was how one got a dog to listen, wasn’t it?
The puppy looked up at him with big, bright brown eyes. “Yip!” And then it hopped right out again. Or tried to. The walls of the basket were much too high, so the little pot-bellied pup got stuck on his belly, and the entire basket flipped over on top of him.
Fitz blinked at the basket. Perhaps he would leave the training to his wife.
The basket scurried across the floor as the puppy blindly attempted to scamper down the hall, even waylaid by a basket cage. Fitz snickered. He might be able to see why his wife liked these little whelps so much.
Mrs. Smith chuckled. “What a wild little thing.”
Fitz rescued the puppy from its basket bastille, a grin splitting his face. Yes, a wild little thing. Perfect for his wild little wife. He scooped up the puppy and held him tight to his chest again.
“I will forgo the basket, Mrs. Smith.”
He strode back to the library, stifling laughter as a little tongue, wet nose, and horribly tickly whiskers launched an assault on him.
Fitz stepped into the room, his whole body shaking with the force of his chuckles. “You stop that!” he said between laughs. He looked up, three pairs of overlarge eyes staring back at him, frozen.
His laughter faded, and he smiled softly at his wife. “Surpris—”
A high-pitched squeal pierced the air, slicing straight into his eardrum. His chin jerked back.Egads. He hadn’t realized his wife could make such a noise. Apparently, the puppy loved it, because its squirming took on an impressive new vigor.
In a blink, the puppy was whisked away from him, his wife twirling with the wriggly thing in a flurry of burgundy skirts, lavishing affectionate kisses on its nose.
“Why hullo there, sweet darling,” she cooed. “Are you not just the most handsome little pudgy-poo I’ve ever seen?” She snuggled the puppy to her bosom, and the puppy yipped, snuggling in happily.
Fitz couldn’t blame the thing. His wife’s bosom was a lovely place to be.
Felicity’s squeaky coos blended with his wife’s. “Oh, my bloody God! Fifi, come here! This little tyke is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I could justdie.”
Georgiana giggled, handing the puppy over to Felicity, who hastened over to Felix, and held the wriggly pup up to their brother’s face, where it promptly greeted him with an abundance of puppy kisses. His deep chuckle echoed through the library. Blast and damn, Fitz’s face ached like the devil from smiling.
A small, yet solid form hurled itself at him.Oomph.Arms squeezed around his waist, and he glanced down, meeting his wife’s sparkling green gaze.
“You like him?”
“I love love lovelovehim, Fitz. Thank you. He is perfect.” She turned in his arms, her back pressing flat to his front, and they both took in the scene before them. The pup tripping and stumbling across the library floor as it tried to drag a pillow double its size by a tassel, Felix and Felicity crawling after the puppy on all fours.
The puppy was perfect. Seeing his family with the puppy, he found it hard to believe they’d never gotten one before now. But luckily for them, Georgiana was finding new ways to bring joy to the Jennings one great idea at a time. From chopping down trees to procuring puppies.
His wife shook against him on her inhale, followed by a small sniffle.
He spun her, searching her watery gaze. “Gigi? Micetta?”
“I am happy. I swear it. Goodness, the little thing is adorable, and I cannot wait to shower him in love. But it also just”—she shrugged, eyes welling—“Bernie,” she managed hoarsely.
Fitz’s heart ached for her, and he so desperately wished he could ease her hurt. “I’m sorry, Gigi.” He squeezed her tight and pressed a hard kiss into her hair. “I love you,” he whispered.
She pushed against his chest, leaning back and staring up at him, a stray sniffle escaping her. “I love you too, darling.”
The puppy came bounding over and launched itself at Gigi’s skirts, grabbing a mouthful and shaking the victim fabric in its little black muzzle. Small yips and growls blended with Georgiana’s giggles.
Fitz blinked. What a ferocious little alligator.
