Maxim raised a brow at him. “You only think so because you’ve yet to find the right woman. The one who makes your heart whole. The one you cannot possibly live without. The one who brings you to your knees.”
Nando clapped him on the back. “I do believe impending fatherhood is making you maudlin, brother.”
Perhaps it was.
Maxim didn’t give a damn.
Before he could form a blistering retort, however, a servant approached them in the hall.
“Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness.” The woman dipped into a formal curtsy. “Her Majesty has asked for Your Majesty’s presence.”
His heart lurched, his gut tightening with sickening fear. “Is something amiss?”
“All is well,” the servant said, smiling. “The royal baby has arrived. Her Majesty and the child are healthy.”
Relief washed over him, so powerful and potent that his knees trembled and his legs almost gave way beneath the brunt of it. “Thank God.”
“My felicitations, brother,” Nando said quietly, giving him a hearty pat on the back. “You should go to the queen.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He nodded, feet moving, eating up the distance between himself and his wife and child.
His child.
Ye gods, he was a father.
He hastened his stride, and by the time he reached the chamber door, he burst over the threshold without a hint of grace. But he didn’t give a damn about that either, because themost beautiful sight he’d beheld yet greeted him. His beloved, beautiful wife sat propped by a mound of pillows, her dark hair neatly swept away from her face, a swaddled babe in her arms.
“My love,” he said, fairly flying across the chamber to her. “How are you?”
Gray eyes met his, not filled with secrets and mysteries now—for he had learned hers just as she had learned his. But sparkling with love and happiness instead.
“I am well,” she said, her voice sounding a bit hoarse and weary, yet laden with warmth. “Come and meet your son.”
His son.
He had a son.
Maxim seated himself with ginger care on the bed at her side, and with a trembling hand, he drew the swaddling back so that he could see the pink, wrinkled face of his new baby. Love, abundant and rich, hit him.
“He’s a handsome little lad,” he said shakily, awestruck by the tiny, wriggling bundle, who rooted toward his finger as he stroked his son’s soft cheek.
“He takes after his father,” Tansy said tenderly.
He looked up, smiling, tears suddenly blurring his vision. “Thank you for giving me a son.”
She reached for him, cupping his cheek in one hand, smiling. “As I recall, I’m not the only one responsible.”
He chuckled at her daring, and the tears spilled free, falling down his cheeks in hot trails, and he didn’t give a damn about that either. Maxim turned his head and pressed a reverent kiss to her palm. “Excellent point, spitfire. But I meant thank you for carrying him all these months, and for giving him life.”
“Nothing has made me happier,” she said, looking down at the baby in her arms. “For so long, I was without a family, and now, at last, I have a family of my own. My heart is filled with joy.”
“As is mine,” he said, joining her in gazing at their son in wonder.
The baby made a small sound, and then his eyes opened, meeting Maxim’s.
“You should hold your son, Papa,” Tansy told him.
He opened his arms, and she placed the baby into them carefully, the small weight so precious, the tiny life just beginning a source of endless wonder to him.
