Page 137 of A Portrait of Love

“Did you mean that?” she asked, her voice so low it took his brain a moment to decipher what she’d said.

Simon sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Impossibly, her eyes opened even wider. “What?”

“I promised you a marriage of convenience and it seems I’ve—”

—fallen deeply, madly, hopelessly in love with you. If you try to take a lover it will be pistols at dawn for him, even though I told you—no, I promised you—before we were married that you could do what you pleased and—

“Oh, hell.” Simon rolled onto his back, wincing as he pulled his sensitive shaft from her body, which reminded him—

“I spent in you,” he said, glaring at the canopy—as if it were to blame for his weak will. “Yet another promise I broke.”

She remained motionless beside him. Had she fallen asleep?

That might be just as well, Simon.

“Simon?”

He jolted at the sound of her voice. “Yes?”

“I’m pregnant.”

His head whipped around so fast he cricked his neck.

Her eyes were still wide, but now worried rather than stunned.

“I’m sorry, I know you didn’t—”

“Are you?” he blurted. When she gave him a confused look he explained, “Are you sorry that you’re pregnant?”

She opened her mouth, but then closed it. Finally, she bit her lip and shook her head. “No. I’m glad.”

Simon let out a half-moan, half-sigh. “Thank God.”

“But—I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought you’d be angry? You said—”

Simon shuddered. “Don’t remind me of what I said, Honey. I was sucha fool to say something so stupid.” He slid a hand over her flat belly, a grin pulling at his lips. “Really?” he asked, sounding like an idiot as he looked up at her, no doubt looking like an idiot, too.

“I think so.” She bit her lip again, as if she were trying to hold back a smile.

Simon gave a joyous hoot of laughter and grabbed her. He rolled her on top of him, shifting her body until she was straddling his hips.

“Simon—” She began to cross her arms over her breasts and he caught her wrists, pulling her hands down.

“No covering yourself,” he said sternly, only partly mocking.

She flushed charmingly.

“Ever,” he added, his eyes greedily consuming her delicious body, a body that now had their child growing inside it.

The wave of possessive pride that rolled over him was almost crushing. He’d never even thought about having a child before, and here he was, all but exploding with joy. He met her gaze, unable to read her inscrutable expression. “Are you truly pleased, Honey?”

“I am, but—”

“But?” he prodded.

“I am even more pleased that you seem pleased. I never expected—”