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Alexander’s heart felt that it might burst with joy. “Then the solution is easy, my darling.” He pointed to the sleeping bundle beside her. “The second matter I wished to address concerns your desire to adopt Asher.”
“Are you against it?”
“Not in the least,” he said. “Asher could not wish for a better mother, and I would never willingly take that from him, but I would ask that you consider a slight modification to your plan.” Emotion caught in his throat. “Marry me, Jane. Make me the happiest man in all of England, and then let us adopt Asher together. He will be our son. His blood line may preclude him from becoming the Earl of Bloxley, but I have other lands that I can entail to him.”
“You . . . you would do that?” Her tears were falling even faster now.
“In an instant. I cannot imagine a more perfect family.” He reached out and gently wiped the moisture from her cheek. “What do you think?”
“That you are right.”
“It’s not that I don’t enjoy being told that I am right, but right about what, exactly?”
She smiled through her tears. “I cannot imagine a more perfect family either.”
“What about the getting-married-right-away part? Was I right about that too?”
This time, she laughed, and it was all Alexander could do not to kiss her right then and there. But he needed to hear it. Needed to know that she was truly his.
“I have never heard anything that sounded so right,” she said. “I love you, Alexander, and I will happily marry you at your earliest convenience.”
He released her hand and leaned closer, cupping her cheeks in his hands. His gaze moved from her eyes brimming with moisture to her slightly parted lips, and he knew that his heart was hers forever.
“Tomorrow is not soon enough,” he whispered, and then he lowered his lips to hers.
She responded instantly, and he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the wonder of this moment with her. She moaned softly, and he knew he must go—whilst he still could. Pulling away slightly, he ran his fingers through her curls. “It is late, and we both need sleep.”
Candlelight flickered across her face, and he ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, but she gave a faint nod and reached out to touch his cheek.
“You are truly here, and we are to be married,” she said.
He smiled. “This is real, Jane. You and me, what we share, and the future we can have together.” He turned his head a fraction and kissed the palm of her hand before rising to his feet. “I will speak to your father first thing tomorrow, and as soon as Dr. Thorndike has declared you well enough, we shall have you on your feet again, planning our wedding.”
Happiness shone from her beautiful dark eyes. “Good night, Alexander.”
“Good night, my love,” he said, and then, with what was perhaps the greatest show of strength he’d ever exhibited, he walked out of the room.
Chapter 30
Jane awoke to the sensation of weight moving unsteadily across her torso and the blend of citrus and leather smells that were uniquely Alexander’s. Opening her eyes, she came face to face with Asher, who was doing his best to crawl across her with his hands entangled in Alexander’s long shirt sleeves.
“I’m stuck,” he said, raising one of his arms and frowning at the long length of fabric hanging down below his hand.
“So I see,” Jane said with a laugh. “Let me see if I can help.” She took the sleeve and started rolling until it passed his narrow wrist. “How’s that?”
In response, Asher simply lifted his other arm, and Jane performed the same routine again. When both hands were free, he beamed, and Jane wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I love you, Asher.” She pressed her face against the shirt he was wearing and inhaled deeply, the memory of Alexander’s lips on hers enough to make butterflies flutter within her stomach. “And I love Lord Bloxley.”
Asher wiggled free. “Lord Bloxley likes fwogs.”
Jane laughed. “It does seem that way.”
He pushed himself back into a sitting position beside her and raised his hand to his head, his small fingers probing the area around his wound.
“Does it hurt?” Jane asked.
“Yes.” He looked at her with innocent eyes. “Make it go away.”
“I wish I could, sweetheart.” She studied his forehead more carefully. The swelling had gone down considerably, but beneath the residue of the salve that Mrs. Hunt had applied, the dark purple swath of color now extended past the bridge of his nose. “You had a bad fall, and I hope you now know that you must not go out at night by yourself. But I think that if you let Mrs. Hunt put some more of her magic potion on your head today, it will feel better very soon.”