“The dinner can wait.” Fiona shifted Edward to her shoulder, patting his back gently. “I want to hold him a little longer.”
“You are spoiling him.”
“I am loving him. There is a difference.”
Christian smiled—that warm, unguarded smile that still had the power to steal her breath—and settled into the chair across from her.
“I never imagined this,” he said quietly.
“Imagined what?”
“Any of it.” He gestured vaguely, taking in the nursery, the sleeping child, the life that had grown around them. “A year ago, I was alone in this castle, convinced I would live and die without ever knowing what it felt like to be loved. And now…”
“And now?”
“And now I have everything.” His voice faltered slightly. “A wife who loves me. A son who will never doubt that he is wanted. A future I never dared to hope for.”
Fiona reached out with her free hand. He took it at once, their fingers intertwining.
“I have everything as well,” she said softly. “Everything I ever wished for—and a great deal I did not know I wished for until I had it.”
“Such as a husband who snores?”
“You do not snore.”
“I most certainly do. You are simply too kind to mention it.”
She laughed softly, careful not to wake the baby. “Very well. You snore. But it is an exceedingly endearing snore.”
“Now you are flattering me.”
“I would never.”
Edward stirred in her arms, making a small protest at the disturbance. Fiona rose carefully and carried him to the cradle, laying him down with the practised ease of a mother who had done so countless times before.
He settled almost at once, one tiny fist curling beside his cheek, his breathing slow and even.
“He is perfect,” Christian said, coming to stand beside her.
“He is.”
“Even with—” He stopped, unable to finish the thought, but his hand drifted unconsciously toward his collar, toward the birthmark hidden beneath.
“Especially with.” Fiona turned toward him and cupped his face between her hands. “The birthmark is not a flaw, Christian. It never was. It is simply a part of you—a part of him—and it is beautiful. We shall raise him to know that, to believe it in his bones. He will grow into a man who is confident, proud, and certain of his own worth.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is not simple. It is work—hard work, every day. But we shall do it together.” She rose on her toes and kissed him lightly. “As we do everything.”
He gathered her close, resting his chin atop her head, and together they stood in the quiet nursery, watching their son sleep.
“I love you,” he murmured into her hair.
“I love you too.”
“Forever?”
“Forever—and a day.”
