“And I cannot believe you’d frolic with me so carelessly when you’re carrying my child! Have you been ill?”
She lifted a brow, in much the same manner he liked to do, and asked pertly, “Do I seem ill to you?” He shook his head. “There is simply... shall we say... a roundness to me now that is quite difficult to overlook,” she pointed out.
He laid her gently back upon their bed to better inspect her. “How imperceptive of me,” he muttered with a frown. “I suppose I shall have to remedy that at once!” When his mouth suddenly lit upon her belly, Jessie squealed and tried to wriggle free of his embrace.
“You would look with your lips?” she asked, scandalized, laughing softly.
“Aye, my love, for I see very well with them, indeed...” He tried once more, and this time she arched backward for him, her eyes closing with unabashed pleasure.
She sighed. “Yes,” she murmured in agreement, “you certainly do... Look again if you please...”
Later,in the drawing room, the argument continued. “You’ll tell him now, won’t you?”
“God’s teeth, Jessamine! I said I would!”
She frowned at him. “You never call me Jessamine!”
He locked his hands behind his back and peered at her, eyeing her pointedly. “I do now.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you’re an impudent little wench!”
“Aye, well, it cannot be helped! I should remind you that you’ve promised near a dozen times before and never have spoken to him yet!”
He grunted, turning from the window long enough to give his wife a thoroughly disgruntled glance. “I shall tonight,” he promised, and turned to peer out the window once more to see that Ben and Jean Paul were approaching the house.
“Christ,” he muttered. “Here they come—sit, Jessamine! And don’t you speak another blessed word!”
Undaunted, Jessie sat upon the blue damask settee to await Jean Paul and her cousin’s entrance, eager for the scene to come. Her gaze wandered while she waited. The house was complete at last, the rooms furnished, some sparsely, others richly. This room was particularly grand, the ceiling high, and from thecenter hung a great ironwork candelabra. Two spiral staircases led abovestairs, one to each wing. The floor was polished oak, with an immense woven carpet stretched across its length. By the hearth sat two gold damask chairs along with the settee Jessie now occupied. She oft imagined them, she and Christian, sitting here along with their children, enjoying a blazing fire in winter. Soon it would be so.
She sighed, for so much had transpired since that day upon the Ashley. Lord St. John’s body had never been found, though the river had been dredged. She tried not to think of that much, for in truth, there was much to be thankful for in St. John’s death. It was a dreadful end for any man, one that she wouldn’t have wished upon anyone, but the fact remained that if Lord St. John had lived, Christian might have hung for the sins of Hawk. She couldn’t have borne that.
With the changing tide, Daniel Moore had fled to England in fear of his life... and there were whispers of war in the air. She tried not to think of them either. Many had chosen to return to England—McCarney included—before the tide turned completely. Jessie sighed, watching her husband at the window, thrusting the dark thoughts aside. For the time being, Hawk did not exist, there was only Christian, husband to her, and father to their unborn child.
The door swung open and both Jean Paul and Ben entered, wiping their boots upon the threshold. Jessie frowned at them, and considered rebuking them for the mess they created between them, but she sat patiently instead, her gaze reverting to Christian. He stood watching her, scowling really, and she lifted a brow in question.
“I haven’t done or said anything yet!” she apprised him. “Now, have I?”
“Faugh!” Jean Paul exclaimed as he came within. “Lies, all lies, I tell you!”
Jessamine shared a look with her husband and laughed softly. Some things had changed; some things remained the same. More oft than not, Ben and Jean Paul were at one another’s throats.
“If you say so, old man,” Ben yielded, “though I’m glad ’tis your own hide you risk, not mine!”
She smiled at that and said pertly, “Please! Do come in! Quickly! Quickly!”
“Jessamine,” Christian warned, eyeing her sternly.
Jessie ignored him, smiling brightly. “My husband has something he wishes to say to Jean Paul before the two of you commence to butchering one another.”
“Jessamine!” Christian said. “Allow me, if you please!”
She sat, but her smile remained and was contagious. Ben found himself grinning as he came to sit beside her. Taking her hand, he patted it affectionately.
Jean Paul stood, staring expectantly not more than two feet from his son. Christian, on the other hand, seemed to be pleading with her, or perhaps he was glaring at her and Ben. She couldn’t tell. When she returned his regard with a saucy smile, he grimaced and turned to face his father.
“’Tis my wife,” he began sourly, his face coloring slightly. He shifted uncomfortably. “I... she—” His voice faltered. “Damn it all, I! I would have you know...” He swallowed, turning to meet Jessie’s gaze briefly before continuing. “I would have you know... that you... you are soon to become a grandfather,” he finished scarcely loud enough for Jean Paul to hear.
