That made Creston smile.
Someday, he’d be experiencing the same thing.
Ophelia’s pregnancy was in its sixth month and, fortunately, she was feeling fine. But the difference between the woman he’d married three months ago and the woman of today was like night and day. That pale, fragile woman was gone, replaced by a round, robust, and luscious woman he couldn’t get enough of. With the proper nutrition, she’d filled out deliciously, and he swore he’d never seen a more beautiful creature. She was happy and she was healthy, and he couldn’t have been more grateful.
But she was many other things as well.
He didn’t know her when he married her, but his instincts were good. They told him that she was a decent human being, a woman of solid character, and he’d been right. He’d watched the timid, traumatized woman emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. She had a great sense of humor. She had a sense of devotion to her husband and also to her friends, which she made quickly. About a month after Creston had married her, Athdara’s children all became sick. Soon enough, Athdara and Tay became ill, as well as the woman who usually tended their children, and Ophelia had stepped up to tend to Athdara’s younger children while Gisele and Astria and Elisiana tended to the older boy, Athdara, the nurse, and even Tay.
It had been quite selfless on Ophelia’s part to tend someone else’s sick children, but she’d done so without reserve. She’d stayed up all night with them a couple of nights in a row, only relieved by Creston, who had sat with the children in theafternoons while Ophelia slept heavily. He’d been so proud of her, seeing what a good heart she had, and Athdara had never forgotten that kindness. It seemed to draw Ophelia and Athdara closer together, and the women were quite good friends these days.
It was if she had always lived at Blackchurch.
He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
Creston wasn’t quite sure when he’d fallen in love with his wife. It could have been within the first few days of knowing her, but it could have also been during the time when she tended Athdara’s children. It could have even been before that, or after that. He wasn’t sure when, and the truth was that he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t loved her.
That was why Athdara and Gisele were giggling.
He was a fool in love.
Creston and Ophelia lived in their own little world, protected by the walls of Blackchurch as if nothing outside of those walls existed. They hadn’t heard from Oscar again after he left after the wedding, nor had they heard from Ophelia’s mother. No one had sent word to inquire about Ophelia’s life, or well-being, and she never sent her mother or her grandfather any news from Blackchurch. As far as she was concerned, those people didn’t exist anymore. The people who had starved her and abused her were no longer in her thoughts. Nor were there any lingering thoughts of Cecil, not even when the child and her belly moved. As far as she was concerned, and as far as Creston was concerned, that child was his.
He’d never thought any differently.
Nor did anyone else.
Ophelia confessed to him that she’d told the other Blackchurch wives of her condition on the day of their marriage because, as she explained it, they were all women who had given birth, and they would be able to figure out that her pregnancywas more advanced than what was public knowledge. In order to be honest with them as she had been with Creston, she’d told them everything, and they had been more than accepting. That gave Creston the courage to tell his friends one evening as they sat at The Black Cock, at their usual table.
The results had been predictable.
No one seemed to care that the child wasn’t of Creston’s loins. All they cared about was the fact that another child was to be brought into their brotherhood, and they couldn’t have been happier for him. They bought Creston so much wine to celebrate that Tay and Cruz had to drag him home to his wife, who wanted to know why he was so drunk that he could hardly walk. They were honest with her and told her they were celebrating the coming child, and, for a split second, Ophelia was afraid she was going to see judgment in their eyes. Judgment for a woman who did not carry the child of their dear friend, but the child of another man.
But there had been no judgment.
Only celebration.
While there was no suspicion or condemnation from the trainers, there had been a little through the rumor mill, and Blackchurch had a big one. Every castle, every city, had one, and Blackchurch was no different. Soldiers gossiped like fishwives, and Creston would have been surprised if Ophelia’s rather large bellyhadn’tbeen a topic of conversation. He was extremely protective over her, and rightfully so, and that probably had something to do with the rumors being kept very quiet. No one wanted The Avenger to avenge his wife on someone who spoke less than favorably about her. Creston, more than any of them, was a killer.
No one wanted a man like that coming after them.
But Creston wasn’t going after anyone, not any time soon. He was living on love these days and nothing else seemed to matter.He was nearly to his cottage now, seeing the light from within and smelling… something. He wasn’t sure what it was—and, if he were perfectly honest, Ophelia wasn’t a good cook. Managing a kitchen was something all noble young women were taught, but doing actual cooking was frowned upon. Blackchurch had a big kitchen where one could go and collect food to bring back to the cottage, and Ophelia had done so many times, but more recently, she’d had the cooks at Blackchurch teach her how to make simple dishes, and she’d taken great pride in making food for her husband. Creston was greatly touched by her efforts, even if half of the dishes she made weren’t edible. Still, he choked them down and praised her because she’d tried so hard.
Love wasn’t only blind—it had no sense of taste, either.
Opening the entry door, he stepped into the warm, fragrant cottage. A fat black cat lounged on one of the chairs in front of the hearth while still another cat, this one black and white, was grooming itself on the warm stones. Ophelia had found the strays last month and brought them home, and now Creston not only slept with his wife, but with two cats, one of whom liked to lie on his head. But he wouldn’t deny his wife her pets, as she seemed very fond of them, and they of her, and as he headed into the eating area of the cottage, he saw Ophelia bent over the hearth, stirring something in an iron pot that was hanging over the flames.
“Lady de Royans,” he greeted Ophelia as he came up behind her. “I’ve missed you today.”
By the time Ophelia stood up, he had wrapped his arms around her torso and was hugging her tightly. She smiled, leaning back against him, craving his warmth.
“I just saw you at the nooning hour,” she said, her arms over his as he held her. “But that seems like so long ago, doesn’t it?”
He kissed her on the side of the head. “It seems like forever,” he said, releasing her. “Something smells good. What are you preparing?”
Ophelia was quite proud of the mystery dish bubbling in the pot. “Pork and beans in a stew,” she said. “The cook told me how to make it. Itdoessmell good, does it not?”
He nodded, even though it wasn’t exactly true. It smelled burned. “Verily,” he said. “But before we eat, let me wash my hands and change my tunic. It seems to have blood on it.”
