Chapter Twenty-Two

K itty waited for him on the wide canopied bed that stood at the centre of their bedchamber. Flames danced in the fireplace, sending a rosy glow about the room which had been beautifully furnished with hand-carved cabinets made especially for Rossfarne Castle. So many nights she had spent safely cocooned in Guy's strong embrace, but despite all of this, she was nervous.

Footsteps on the stone stairs indicated he was on his way. Kitty re-arranged her loose hair and leaned back on her elbows, aiming for nonchalance when she felt anything but.

He paused in the doorway, the narrow frame making his tall, muscular body appear even larger. A thrill of anticipation shot through her as his dark eyes raked over her white smock appreciatively. Their years together had done nothing to dull the magnetic pull of attraction between them.

His finely carved lips broke into a smile. "That's the view I've been waiting for."

He crossed the room in a bound and scooped her into his strong arms. Kitty's body folded into the natural curves of her husband's, but she turned her face away from his kiss, even as liquid desire pooled inside her. She must speak.

Guy's breath was warm against her cheek. She leaned her forehead against his solid chest and breathed in his masculine fragrance. Leather, sea salt and the essential scent of her husband. This was the man she loved. Why, then, was she so afraid?

His fingers splayed through her hair, a gesture of affection as well as longing. She nuzzled into his shoulders, suddenly desperate to prolong this period of not knowing. Alert to her mood, Guy changed the course of his hand, from skimming over her hip to cupping her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

His thumb caressed her cheek. "What is it?"

His palm was warm and comforting. Kitty took a deep breath. Once she had said the words, there would be no going back. Her throat tightened, and she could only shake her head.

A concerned frown flicked over his dark brow. "You can tell me anything, you know?"

For two wonderful years, her life had been full of love and laughter. They had fortune, favour with the king and family nearby. Aside from a couple of short spells when Guy returned to the battlefield and she feared for his safe return, their days passed by in comfort while nights were studded with bliss. Guy had walked out of the shadows. But did he want what she was about to give him?

How would he take the news?

Earlier in the day, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of wedding guests, she had been filled with confidence. But now, alone with her husband, her doubts had resurfaced like ghosts from the past.

"I have something to tell you." She forced out the words, fixing her gaze over his shoulder so he wouldn't see the worry in her eyes.

Guy held her steady against him for a moment, in which all she could hear was the rhythmic beating of his heart and the spluttering of logs on the fire. Then he gently pulled away until he could see her face.

"Tell me," he repeated, an invitation, not an order.

"We have never spoken of it." The flickering light from the flames cast his face alternately into planes of light and dark.

"And you have never spoken in riddles before tonight."

She remembered the sorrowful tale of his younger brother. How his voice had broken in anguish as he relayed the harrowing events. "It was my job to protect him, and I failed. I never want to feel that pain again," he had said.

It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask if that meant he did not wish for children, but their wedding day had been still ahead of them, and it had seemed pre-emptive. Then, for many months, there was no sign of pregnancy. She had thought it would not happen. Until now.

Guy pushed himself into an upright position and pulled her against him, holding her tight and safe inside the circle of his arms. His hands skimmed over the swell of her breasts to settle on her belly. His breath warmed the bare flesh of her shoulder as the hooting of an owl filtered through the half-open window.

"I can wait all night," he said, teeth nibbling gently at her earlobe.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to turn her face to his, entwine her fingers into his thick hair and give him the deep, passionate kiss they both craved. But she must speak.

"I am with child," she said, the words falling like raindrops all around them. A new reality which could no longer be denied.

His hands stilled against her smock, warming her flesh. But she knew a chill as his face lifted away from her. Silence enveloped them, sending a flurry of nerves outwards from her heart. She twisted against him, needing to see the expression in his eyes.

His face was shuttered and blank. A look she'd never wanted to be confronted with again.

"Guy?" she tried. Her throat constricted with alarm.

"With child?" he repeated. "Are you sure?"

She nodded once, not trusting her voice. "Quite sure," she whispered shakily.

Then came the smile. Sunshine after the darkest night. His handsome face became boyish. Cares stripped away. He cupped her cheeks and gazed down at her adoringly.

"A child."

She placed her hand over his. "Is it what you want?"

He blinked in surprise. "Of course."

"I was so scared."

"For what reason?"

She couldn't mar this happy occasion with terrible memories from the past. She merely shook her head, unable to tear her eyes from his.

"I wondered if it might not happen for us," he said slowly. "But I always hoped."

She nodded eagerly. "Me too, and now it has."

His hand went reverently to the slight curve of her belly, settling on her in the gentlest caress. "Our baby."

Her tears were tears of joy. "Yours and mine."

His lips pressed against her head. "I was happy before, but now you have made me the happiest man in England."

"Oh, Guy."

"I do not deserve it."

"No man deserves it more," she corrected him. Shadows danced on the wall behind him. Her handsome husband. "Will you kiss me properly now?"

He cupped her face in his large hands, drawing her towards him until their lips met in a featherlight kiss.

"Should we?" he asked against her cheek. "Can we?"

In answer she took hold of his hand and placed it firmly against her breast. A shot of longing made her limbs grow heavy. "We can and we should."

She sensed the moment he allowed his desire to surface. His breathing slowed, along with the practised movements of his hands on her willing flesh. His mouth went to her neck, and she arched against him, giving herself over to the first wave of pleasure. His fingers skimmed over the straps of her smock. A silent ask for permission in the face of this new dynamic between them.

Her answer was to hitch the lacy fabric up over her hips and then pull it over her head in one smooth movement. She shook her hair free, feeling the heat of his gaze travelling over her body, lingering on her bared breasts.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

Again, she brought his head towards her, thrilling to the sensation of his feather-light kisses. Heat gathered in her core as she moved beneath him, giving herself over to the sensual stroking of his hands, the warmth of his tongue, the teasing of his fingers. She reached for him, eager for the feel of his skin but encountering the soft linen of his shirt.

"You are still clothed," she managed.

"My attention is on you." His head was at her navel now. Kissing and nuzzling and making her writhe with pleasure.

"No." Her hands flailed against his muscular shoulders. Trembling fingers grasped for his buttons.

With a low growl he caught her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. "Be still, wife," he breathed.

She closed her eyes as his fluttering kisses travelled over her ribs, tickling and teasing as he moved lower. She pressed her head back into the pillow and let the sensuous waves wash over her.

He came up beside her, smiling at her pleasure. Her breathing slowed and she hooked her arms around his shoulders.

"I have been wanting to touch you like that all day," he said.

She snuggled closer to him. "It would not have been proper in the chapel."

"No indeed." He lifted her chin. "I hope you're not tired?"

The hint of worry in his voice made her choose to tease him. "It has been a long day." She mimed a yawn. Heard his resigned sigh.

"Very well." He settled himself more comfortably. Reached for her in a chaste embrace.

She gave herself away with her chuckle and her hands which still sought contact with his skin. In one swift movement, he pulled his shirt over his head, and she ran her fingers over his muscled chest in possessive delight. Every hard, defined ridge was familiar. He was all hers.

He stood to remove his breeches and she feasted her eyes on his athletic physique. His bronzed skin glowed in the light of the fire. At last, he was back on the bed beside her. Their bodies moved together, legs entwining, lips landing on exposed flesh, luxuriating in the feel of one another.

She reached for the maleness of him, relishing the hardness beneath her fingers. He groaned with barely suppressed pleasure, making her body once more open up with desire. He shifted against her, supporting himself on his elbow, one hand trailing a familiar path over her breasts and down to where she wanted him.

"Are you ready?"

In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him down and deep inside her. His low growl of delight set her free. She rocked her hips against him, pushing, bringing him entirely into her core where he filled every bit of her. Hot waves of pleasure travelled up and down her body. No matter how many times they came together, she could never get enough of her husband, the feel of his skin against hers and that wonderful sensation of limbs aligning perfectly with one another.

When it was over, he rolled onto his back and held her close. Their hearts pounded as one. Her hair clung damply to her neck and she pushed it away, enjoying the cool air against her hot skin.

"I love you, Countess of Rossfarne," he said, his voice husky and spent.

"I love you, Earl of Rossfarne," she replied, every word resonating inside her heart.

"It is a marvellous feeling." He traced gentle circles on her back.

"Love?" She pushed herself onto her elbow, looking into his shining eyes.

"Love," he confirmed. "The most important thing."