“Peppermint candies, hmm?” Decker repeated. Well, at least he now knew the way to his sister’s heart. The way to his wife’s was paved with cream ice.
“We should be on our way,” Jo added. “The ceremony will be starting soon enough, and we dare not miss it.”
No, they dare not indeed. The Children’s Hospital he had already endowed before his mother’s death—before, even, his marriage to Jo—was opening this afternoon. There was to be a grand ceremony. Not the sort of thing Decker ordinarily troubled himself with, as he abhorred taking a bow for his philanthropic endeavors. But in this instance, the ceremony was special.
As was the dedication of a memorial cot in his mother’s name.
Seraphina Decker would never be forgotten. Her legacy would live on, and on, and hopefully over time, the children’s hospital would give thousands of children a second chance at life.
“Let us go then,” he told the two most important ladies in his life, offering each an arm.
Together, they left his offices, making their way to the waiting carriage.
It was the sort of day when he needed them at his side.
Right. When was itnotthat sort of day?
Jo was brushingout her hair, seated at her looking glass, when Decker came to her. He was clad in a dark-maroon banyan of fine silk, his feet bare, his hair tousled so that the same rakish lock she loved fell over his brow. She did not rise, merely watched him approach her in the mirror. Their gazes met and held.
A frisson of awareness jolted through her, as always.
“Good evening, Mr. Decker,” she said softly, stroking the brush through her hair again because she knew how the act never failed to inspire an answering surge of desire in him.
She was still learning him. Each day, she discovered more, and each day, he showed her how much he loved her just as she strove to do the same for him. He was becoming better at keeping his walls lowered. And for her part, Jo fell in love with the man she had married a bit more, it seemed, with every passing moment.
“Good evening, Mrs. Decker.” He reached her, settled his hands on her shoulder, and then pressed a kiss to the side of her throat. “You smell good enough to devour, woman.”
She could not suppress her smile. Decker loved the scent of her perfume on her throat. The moment she had made that particular discovery, she had made certain to add a bit of scent behind each of her ears, and then another drop at the hollow where her pulse pounded.
“Mmm,” she hummed her approval. “Perhaps you ought to devour me then, my love.”
“In time,” he agreed, kissing her throat, her ear, nibbling the sensitive place where her neck joined her shoulder. “May I?”
She relinquished her brush to him, sitting still as he worked the bristles through her hair in slow, gentle strokes. “If you ever decide to cease being a businessman, you would have excellent work as a lady’s maid.”
Jo could not help teasing him. But she loved the attention he lavished upon her.
“Only yours, my love,” he said, kissing her crown. “Only ever yours.”
She studied his countenance then, taking in the stark angles and planes, the tense manner in which he held his jaw. Today had been an emotional one for him, even if he did not often wear his heart upon his sleeve. The ceremony at the children’s hospital he had endowed had been lovely. Of course, the most emotional moment had been the dedication of the cot in his mother’s name. Both Decker and Lila had been overwhelmed, Lila’s nose going red in her effort to quell her tears.
“Your mother would have been proud of you and Lila today, Decker.” She sought his gaze in the glass. “The Children’s Hospital is a wonderful and worthy endeavor, and to have her name forever upon it…”
A surge of emotion prevented her from finishing her sentence. The day had been filled with tears enough. She had no wish to once more descend into sobs and sadness.
“She would have been pleased, I think,” he said, still brushing her hair. “She always loved children.”
“Is that why you patronize so many orphanages?” she asked. “Why you endowed the Children’s Hospital?”
“In part.” He ran the bristles through her locks once more. “I also feel for those who find themselves in situations that were not of their own making. For the littlest ones. The urchins, the beggars, the helpless. If I can aid them somehow…make them feel less helpless, I will.”
Of course he would, as the bastard son of an earl, who was ineligible to claim his title or his lands. Yet another way he proved he was a man worthy of her admiration, her loyalty, her love.
“I was proud of you today too,” she murmured. “Proud to stand at your side. Proud to be your wife.”
He stilled, his gaze searching hers, his expression pained. “I will never have a title, Josie. I can never make you a countess.”
“That is not what I want.” She shook her head. “You know that, Decker. All I have ever wanted is you, from the moment I truly learned what sort of man you are.”
