Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Papa! You are bamming me.”
Demon smiled, warmth seeping through his heart just as it did whenever the lad called him Papa. Joanna and Davy had gradually begun referring to him as Papa as well, and on each occasion, his heart seemed as if it had grown ten times too large for his chest. He did not think he would ever grow tired of hearing that title. Or the other one which had also become his proudest—husband.
“Mayhap Iamteasing you, lad,” he allowed, winking. “For now, I do believe it is time for your brother to continue reading his story.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Percy said.
Everything within him froze. The young duke stared back at him with a small smile and gave him a nod, as if acknowledging the importance of the moment. Demon’s eyes were burning, but he nodded in return, trying to maintain his composure.
Percy went back to reading his story, and Demon felt his wife’s gaze. He turned to find her eyes searing him, love shining in their bright-blue depths. Her hand found his, their fingers linking.
I love you, she mouthed to him.
He sniffled, trying to hold back the tears of sheer happiness.I love you, he said, just as soundlessly.
And as for his heart?
Well.
It was now at least twenty times too large for his chest, he was sure of it.
* * *
Mirabel concluded writingin her journal for the evening as she waited for Damian to finish poring over his articles and treatises as he spent several hours doing each night. Her husband wanted to stand for Parliament. It was a far cry from the dashing man who had run Lady Fortune. She could not be prouder of the man he was, of the loving father he had become to their brood of children, and of the wonderful husband he was to Mirabel herself.
She had spent the entirety of her first marriage lonely, oppressed, and bitter at the path her life had taken and the unfeeling man she had wed. But Damian was her second chance, and he had been worth the wait.
She stood just as the door to her chamber opened. Her husband crossed the threshold, closing the portal at his back. He was dressed in a midnight banyan, every bit as sinfully handsome as he had been on the first day she had met him in the private room at Lady Fortune. More so, in fact. His mahogany hair was all tousled waves she loved to run her fingers through. His dark eyes brimmed with sensual promise. And his lips were curved in a smile that never failed to make desire simmer to life within her.
“Why so serious, love?” he asked as he reached her. “Has something upset you?”
She shook her head, her hand resting on the swell of her belly, which seemed to grow more prominent each day. “Of course not. I was merely thinking of how happy you make me and how wonderfully dashing you are.”
His arms slid around her, drawing her nearer, until her belly prohibited additional proximity. “Tell me more.”
She laughed, settling her hands on his broad shoulders. The natural ease between them was an endless source of joy for her. Mirabel had never imagined marriage could be as it was between herself and Damian—so effortless, and yet so powerful. Their bond ran true and deep.
“I was also thinking of how thankful I am that I listened to my sister’s ridiculous suggestion and found you at Lady Fortune.”
“That was one of her better ideas,” he agreed easily, dipping his head to kiss her.
The kiss turned quickly carnal as she opened for his questing tongue and raked her nails down the fabric covering his chest. He groaned, then nipped at her lower lip. She wanted him to devour her, and she wanted to consume him. Desire pooled between her thighs. She was already wet and aching for him, just from one kiss, her nipples hard beneath her dressing gown, her sensitive breasts feeling swollen with need.
As he kissed his way down her jaw to her throat, her fingers made an exploration of their own. Down his lean torso, to where his cock was thick and heavy, jutting high against the billowing cotton of his banyan. She gave him a squeeze, the action tearing a moan from the both of them.
“I have been waiting all bloody day to make love to you again,” he said against her skin.
“You made love to me a few hours ago in the music room,” she pointed out breathlessly.
He feverishly worked at the buttons on her gown, plucking them open with a speed that bespoke of his desperation. “Four hours, to be precise. Four hours too long ago.”
With the children distracted and Octavia off to pay a call upon one of her friends, Mirabel had lured Damian into the music room with the intention of seducing him. Thankfully, her delicate condition no longer upset her stomach. However, it did have a new effect upon her. One her husband had not seemed to mind, since he was every bit as ravenous for her as she was for him. They had wound up tangled together on the bench before the pianoforte, not bothering to discard their garments.
She worked at the belt on his banyan. “I am afraid we have no recourse but to make up for our lost time.”
“Ah, the woman who owns my heart.” He peeled her from her dressing gown and shrugged the garment to the floor.
Naked, they made their way to the bed. Damian helped her settle into a comfortable position.
