Cash lay in his grand bed—the one he’d shared with Athena these last twelve months, the one the maids had just finished fussing over—and stared down at his wife and newborn son.
Although the midwife had objected, he’d insisted on being at her side throughout the entire ordeal. After all, a year with Athena as his duchess had taught him doing what was expected wasn’t always doing what was right. The charity she’d started—to help unmarried mothers find safe work and childcare for their children—was growing in popularity, and his own investments had grown since he’d made connections with the Oliphant clan.
No, what was expected wasn’t always the right thing, and Athena had taught him the path to happiness lay in standing up for what you knew was right.
And although it had been the most terrifying, disgustingly wonderful few hours of his life, Cash had known, in this case, doing what was right meant being by Athena’s side.
“You did it, love,” he whispered, one fingertip caressing the infant’s soft cheek where he suckled, half-asleep, at Athena’s breast.
She sent him an exhausted, indulgent smile. “I cannae believe ye insisted on staying.”
“Ican’t believe how strong your grip is,” he teased in return. “I thought you were going to twist my hand right off.”
“AndIthought ye were going to cry when I started blaming my pain on ye!”
Cash winced as he shifted positions, making sure his arm, which he’d thrown around the pillows behind her head, wasn’t catching her unbound hair. He vowed, as long as he lived, he would never forget the sight of her in her now-pristine nightgown and gorgeous red hair spilling around her shoulders, as she nursed their new son.
“Thank you for going through that,” he whispered fervently, his hand moving to cup the babe’s dark head. “Thank you for giving us another son.”
When he looked up, he saw the tears in her eyes as she gazed at him. Over the months of her pregnancy, he’d become used to his normally so-sure-of-herself wife’s mood swings, and he still hated to see her cry. This time though, she was smiling through her tears.
“Are ye certain ye are no’ disappointed in another lad?”
Cash had made no secret of his desire for a daughter, but he scoffed. “How could I be? Callan and Matthew have another brother now. I suspect we’ll have to set up guards to ensure they don’t steal the babe from his cradle and carry him off to indoctrinate him in some kind of adventure. Besides, I’ll just insist on a girl for the next one.”
As her grin turned to a good-natured grimace, Cash reconsidered. “Although if you never want me to touch you again—as you claimed a few hours ago—Idounderstand.”
She chuckled lightly as she lifted her knees and removed the infant from her breast. He made a pitiful little mewling noise, his lips still working adorably, as she laid him against her thighs so they could stare down at him.
Athena nudged Cash with her shoulder. “Ye ken I love yer body, husband, and how ye can make me feel. But I think it will be a few months before I remember that, aye?”
“Aye,” he agreed with a chuckle, pulling his arm closer to her shoulder, and reaching out to stroke his new son’s open palm. The babe’s fingers tightened around his digit, and he smiled. “His hair is darker than I expected.”
“Mine was dark when I was a wee bairn,” she was quick to point out.
“Oh good.” He shot her a grin. “I was hoping for a little red-head.”
“He’s going to be just as mischievous as Callan, is he no’?”
Cash couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “And just as thoughtful as Matthew. The best of both of our lads in one.”
The new parents subsided into silence for another minute, studying the way the infant waved his hands about, almost in frustration. Cash tilted his head so it nudged her temple, and he felt her relax against him.
“Athena?”
She hummed softly, and he knew she was tired.
“Do you know what today is?”
He saw her blink, then nod. “Our first anniversary.”
Smart lass. “So? Will you tell me the name of Callan’s real father?”
She straightened in surprise, her eyes widening, as she turned slightly toward him. He saw the moment she remembered the question he’d asked her, that day while they were locked in their sons’ secret fort.
In the weeks leading up to their wedding—apparently, no matter what his wishes, a duke wasn’t allowed to hurry his own wedding—and in the year since, he hadn’t asked her again.
“Oh, Cash,” she whispered, her gaze softening. “Aye, I will tell ye.”
