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He’d quickly learn if he’d pressed Ophelia too hard too soon.
“Going to be parents, love?”
She faced him, tilting her neck until their eyes met. “I’d like to someday. I’ve always wanted several children.” Her focus veered to the nest. “Five, in truth.”
“Five?” Stan had never thought beyond his heir and one or two spares.
“Yes. Three boys and two girls. Naturally, I adored having a twin sister, but I always thought it would’ve been wonderful to have more brothers and sisters.”
Truth be told, Stan had wanted brothers and sisters as well. He’d hoped his father would marry and have more children. Before he inherited the duchy and there was no more time to be a child and indulge in childish fantasies.
Stan brushed a finger along Ophelia’s jaw, not missing the way her irises dilated at his touch. “That, my dear, will take some time. Don’t you think?”
“Indeed. Years, I suspect.” Ophelia’s focus dropped to his mouth for a fraction.
His lovely, reluctant wife mightn’t be quite so reluctant anymore, it seemed.
Stan lifted her chin with his bent forefinger. “Well, shouldn’t we be about it then?”
Before she could respond, he claimed her mouth in a kiss meant to convey everything in his heart.
Sighing, Ophelia arched against him and twined her arms about his neck. As Viola and Orsino chirped and cooed like the proud parents to be that they were, time ceased to exist.
Stan lost track of how long he kissed Ophelia. Their breathing became one, their tongues tangling and mating. A conflagration ignited within him, soon burgeoning into an inferno he was on the cusp of losing control of.
Slowly, reluctantly, he drew away. Brushing a strand of silky golden-brown hair off of her creamy, flushed cheek, he murmured, “The first time I make love to you shall not be in a birdcage.”
Ophelia burst into laughter. “I should hope not. Viola and Orsino would be quite traumatized. I believe I would as well. That floor does not look comfortable.”
No, but my bed is.
Mayhap Stanford wouldn’t have to wait another two weeks to introduce Ophelia to passion. To claim her as his before God and man and for all time.
She didn’t pretend false modesty or shyness about the passionate exchange that had just taken place. Instead, still chuckling, she slid the latch open and stepped out.
“Ophelia?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
As Stan came through the door, he said, “You are a wonder.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m so glad you are my duchess.”
“I am glad too, Stanford.” Her hazel eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. “However, you still have two more weeks before I shall come to your bed.”
