Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

W e awoke with the dawn.

Or at least I did, with Xavier between my thighs, chasing me into the fourth state of pre-matrimonial bliss I’d experienced since putting his sparkling ring on my finger.

And when we were finished, I lay on his chest, oblivious to the sheen of sweat on our skin, while he stroked my back, and I tickled his tattoo and listened to his heart gradually coming down to something like normal.

I sighed, utterly spent and feeling oddly well-rested. Despite the fact that neither of us had gotten more than a few hours of sleep—it was like we migrated to each other in our dreams, waking up multiple times to consummate whatever dark fantasies had been playing while we slept—it was probably the best rest I’d gotten in years.

This was what love felt like. Real love, made of devotion as much as passion, the kind you took with you for what I knew would be life.

When I was young, I had dreamed it would be the stuff of the old sentimental novels, sculpted from angst that made you want to scream and keep you from your sleep. Where you’d obsess about the man, terrified he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, delighting in his company but forever anticipating the inevitable heartbreak that might follow. I’d be Catherine to his Heathcliff, maybe. Charlotte Temple to the roguish soldier. Doomed to misery and ruin because of my uncontrollable passion.

I had experienced that angst with Xavier. And probably would again—at least some of it, anyway.

But this was different. Real love was nourishing. It superseded my body’s needs because of the way it fed my soul rather than taking it. It made me feel safe and sated, and so, so alive.

“How shall we tell her, then?” Xavier wondered as he combed through my hair with one hand.

“Who?” I asked, arching into his touch.

“‘Little Miss, of course,’” he said in a perfect imitation of Elsie.

I giggled into his chest, enjoying the way his chest rumbled along with me. God, I loved his laugh. “Right. Well, um…”

Beneath me, his big body tensed.

I rolled to the side so I could look at him from my pillow. “What’s wrong?”

Xavier turned to face me as well, not quite able to hide the fear etched over his brow. “I was about to say the same thing. You, er, don’t want to hide it, do you?”

The same fear lodged itself in my stomach. “Do you?”

To my relief, he shook his head. “Absolutely fucking not. Fuck me, Ces, I want to shout it to the world.” My favorite smile—the curiously shy one that only just tipped up the corners of his mouth—appeared. “She’s mine,” he said softly. “Finally mine.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. “I don’t want to hide it either.”

The smile broadened into a grin that made my heart thump in response.

“But,” I continued, “she’s going to have a lot of questions. Ones we need to be able to answer.”

“Right.” Xavier pushed himself up to seated so that only his lap was covered by my blankets, leaving the rest of him—including his muscled chest, stepladder abs, and his wicked tattoo—gleaming for my eyes to devour.

It was very distracting.

“Er,” I started, then managed to sit up myself, though I pulled the sheets to cover my chest, much to Xavier’s obvious disappointment. “Stop looking at me like that. I can barely focus on you as it is. Given your behavior last night, I think I need to be covered up to have a proper conversation with you.”

“Won’t do a thing. I already know what’s under there.” His grin turned substantially sharkish, which told me a robe or something wouldn’t hurt. “Well, let’s figure it out. What do you think she’s going to want to know?”

“Well, for one, she’s going to want to know where we’ll live,” I said.

“She’ll want to know? Or you want to know?”

I shrugged. “Both, maybe. But it’s a fair question. Xavi, where will we live? I can’t imagine you actually want to spend your life in this tiny townhouse.”

He tried to look as if that wasn’t a horrible idea but failed miserably. I could understand why. It wasn’t the smallest of places by any standard in New York, but it was a shack compared to what Xavier’s immense wealth could buy us.

My immense wealth.

“Oh God,” I muttered. “I’m going to have to get a lawyer, aren’t I?”

Xavier scowled. “Why would you need a lawyer?”

I shrugged. “Well, obviously I’ll need to sign an air-tight prenup. You’d be an idiot to get married without one.”

The scowl only deepened as he looked me over. “Francesca, my love, what in the fuck are you talking about?”

I huffed. “Xavi, come on, let’s not be irrational.”

“I’m not being irrational. I trust you.”

“You don’t know what might happen. Do you really, honestly believe without a shadow of a doubt that you and I will last forever? That something horrible might not split us up one day? I don’t mean to be jaded, but it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility.”

He didn’t answer at first. And I found I wasn’t afraid of what he might say. Because as much of a romantic as I was, I knew the truth. That we both came from homes built on fragments of family, not whole ones.

“No,” he said. “I know the world is fucked. And I know this isn’t a fairy tale, and you’re not a princess, and I’m most definitely no fucking prince. But Ces?”

“Hmm?”

“I trust you.”

I sighed. “What does that even mean in this situation?”

“It means…” He shook a hand through the air like he was testing for some sort of vagrant spirit. “It means that love is a choice, right? Not just a feeling.” He glanced toward the door, like he was looking for someone to come in and help him. “You make that choice every day with Sof. I see you love her, even when she makes you want to scream. You two taught me that, babe.”

Something deep inside me began to warm. “All right, but?—”

“It means that I know I’m going to drive you bonkers sometimes too,” Xavier continued. “And you’re going to make me run a mile now and then. It means that there will probably be days where we both want to leave, but we won’t, because we will choose each other every single one of them.” He shook his head. “I made the mistake of not choosing you once, Ces. I won’t ever do that again.”

I was quiet for a long time. In his peculiar way, he’d struck right at the heart of the issue, hadn’t he? How did I really know he wouldn’t do that again?

“I could buy you things,” Xavier said. “Shower you with extravagant gifts and jewelry and what, to try to make up for it. But I know you, Ces. That’s not going to work.”

I curled my legs tighter. “And you know what will?”

How could he answer that question when even I couldn’t?

Xavier’s shoulders rose and fell. “I’m learning. I’m learning what you need, Francesca, is not always what you want. So it won’t be gifts…but I’m staking my fortune on choosing you. I’d stake my life if I could.”

I looked down at my ring while his words settled in. The gravity of his promise. How much he was truly willing to give up if he ever betrayed me again.

And I was willing to let him. I found that when I searched deep inside…I believed I was worth it, after all.

“Okay,” I said softly. “We choose each other.”

“Every day.”

I smiled, then leaned over to deliver a quick kiss—one that could have easily turned into more but didn’t because there were still those “questions” to answer.

“Back to the matter at hand,” I said with a grin at his disappointment. “Xavi, where will we live? London or New York?”

I hated that I even had to ask. But it felt like a test of sorts. Now that I had a ring on my finger, would we revert back to a time when his schedule, his life, determined everything?

I needn’t have worried.

“We’ll live here,” he said almost immediately. “I assumed. You said that’s what you wanted, right?”

I shrugged. “I did. I do. But…” I sighed. Compromise did have to go both ways. “Look, I definitely don’t want to live in Kendal, but I could probably deal with London so long as I could come home regularly. Or Oxford or Cambridge, if you were willing to commute. Maybe there’s a school in London I could apply to. Maybe we could get a house, I guess, instead of the big fancy flat, that way Sofia can have a little yard, and?—”

“Ces.”

I looked up. “What?”

Xavier’s black brows were furrowed, a sure sign that he was thinking very hard. “It should be here.”

Now I was the one who was confused. “Why? All your friends are in London. Your business is there. It’s not really fair of me to insist on New York when you’ve got so much there.”

Bu Xavier just continued to shake his head. “I’ve got Jagger and Elsie, but that’s about it for friends, babe. My life never left much room to make others, and after Luce died, I didn’t want any either. As for family, you know about those treasures…”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. But I was curious about the looks on their faces when they realized their errant duke was going to marry his American baby mama.

“You have real family here,” Xavier continued. “It’s messy too, but you and your sisters, your brother, your gran. It’s special, what you have. I don’t want Sofia and this one to miss out on that kind of family. I know exactly what happens to a kid when they don’t have that. It’s worth more than any restaurant I could open or any title they could have.” He nodded, like he had just convinced himself too. “I can fly back to London whenever I need. New York is home for us. As long as it doesn’t have to involve this rubbish bed, though, babe. My back hurts, and my feet stick off the bottom when we’re sleeping.”

I stared at him for a long time. Then, finally, I matched his own sly smile with a grin of my own.

“You are in so much trouble,” I informed him. “Nonna’s going to have an entire litter of kittens. And my sisters won’t know whether to throw us a party or come after you with pitchforks.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Xavier said confidently. “Just like I took care of you.”

“They’ll want to set a date almost immediately. Oh, God, you’re going to have to convert, you know. Nonna will never forgive me if I don’t get married at Our Redeemer.”

Like a stereotypical high-born Englishman, Xavier made a particular face at the idea of becoming a Catholic. “If I must. But don’t expect me to believe any of it.” Another thought seemed to strike him. “How long does it take? A few weeks?”

I snorted. “Try six months to a year. You’re lucky you’re not a kid. I had to attend confirmation classes for two years.”

Xavier’s expression morphed into outright horror.

“A year?” He shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. I’m not waiting a year to marry you. Honestly, I don’t even want to wait more than a month or two. I’d do it next week if you were willing, but I figured you’d need a bit longer to plan something you’d like.”

“You want to elope?” I asked. “Why? You know I’m going to weigh approximately two tons in a matter of months, right? I’m not walking down the aisle looking like the Pillsbury Doughgirl in white lace. No.”

“The fuck is the Pillsbury—you know what? Never mind. Ces, I don’t want to wait long, though. Please. It’s important.”

“But why?” I pressed. “We know we’re going to get married. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a done deal, whether it happens next week or in ten years. I don’t know why we have to hurry. And it’s my wedding day, you know? I’d like to look and feel my best. In part for you.”

He looked at me tenderly. “Fuck, all right. It’s only…”

“What?” I asked.

Then the answer occurred to me.

“Oh,” I said. “This isn’t about us at all, is it? It’s…” I looked down at my stomach, then back to him. “It’s about him. You want him…to be your heir. Your real heir.”

The very tips of his ears pinked where they poked through the inky black of his hair as something like shame, then indignation crossed his face.

“No, Ces,” he insisted. “ No . I told you yesterday, I don’t want either of my children to have my life. I honestly don’t care if the title dies with me. I don’t. Sofia and this little peanut are both my children, and they’ll inherit the money and anything else that really matters.”

“Then why?” I pushed a little more. “Why do you care so much that we get married quickly?”

“Because I know what it’s like to grow up with people calling you a bastard,” he sputtered. “And no matter what I say, they’ll always throw that word around if we wait.” He shook his head. “It hurt more growing up than I can explain. I acted like I didn’t care. But I did.”

“Oh, Xavi…” I cupped his chin, begging him to turn his face my way. “Of course you cared.”

He looked at me hopefully. “Then you understand.”

I wanted to say I didn’t, but part of me was sympathetic. I didn’t care for the suggestions about Sofia’s origins in the papers when we were there. I could only imagine they would be worse with a son in tow.

“You care about it that much?” I asked.

“I only want them to have better than me,” Xavier replied. “The rest is up to you. Big wedding, small. Registry office or church, I don’t care. I just want you, our babies, and that’s it.” He swallowed. “Please, Ces. Before he’s born. That’s all I ask.”

I tried to come up with reasons against it and found I couldn’t. Not really. Not with him. Deep down, I didn’t just want to be engaged to Xavier Parker. I wanted him to belong to me and me to him. I wanted to be his wife. I wanted us all to be a proper family.

“All right.”

I grinned as he leaned in to kiss me.

“All right?” he repeated into my lips.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s get married now.”

“You fucking got it.” He practically dove to the other side of the bed to grab his phone. “I’ll call Els. She’ll get everything ready. Find us a planner. We’ll be married by the end of the month and?—”

He stopped suddenly as he looked at his phone. The glow of joy on his face had all but extinguished.

Dread lodged itself in my stomach.

“What is it?” I asked. “Xavi, what’s wrong?”

“This.” He tossed his phone to me, where the screen bore the text of an email.

His Grace, the fourteenth Duke of Kendal, is officially summoned to the House of Lords to attend an inquest by the Committee of Selection to address questions regarding the entail of the dukedom of Kendal and its line of succession, including but not exclusive to the potentiality of alternative heirs and accusations regarding the veracity of marriage entail between the thirteenth Duke of Kendal, His Grace Rupert Parker, Baron of Cholmondeley and peer of the realm, and one Masumi Sato….

I looked up, barely able to parse the language that never seemed to contain more than a single extremely long sentence. “What is this? What does this mean?”

“I’m summoned to Parliament,” Xavier said through his teeth. “It means Georgina has succeeded in getting enough lords to question whether I am Rupert Parker’s legitimate son. She’s convinced them the marriage certificate is a fraud. Just like she said she would.”

“Oh, shit,” I muttered. “Xavi, that’s horrible. How can she do that?”

“I’ll have to go back for an interview with the queen herself,” he said before grinding his teeth loudly. “Not to mention an inquiry with these tired old men who have been looking for ways to get rid of me since I was born.”

He exhaled heavily, hard enough to disturb the covers over his waist. Even then, however, he straightened. Naked and tattooed, more warrior than chef, he still looked as noble as he ever had. As much a duke as anyone could be.

“Maybe I should just let them have it,” he said.

“You can’t do that,” I replied. “Then Georgina would win.”

“Ces.” Xavier turned to me with eyes as blue as the sky. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to ruin things between us again. You and the babes are more important to me than any fucking title!”

“And you are more important to us than some stupid British bullies,” I countered.

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “I swear to God, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I do,” I said. “This is your birthright. It’s up to you what you do with it, but you can’t let someone take it from you. Much less that horrible woman.”

Xavier just shook his head, then keeled to the side until he could rest his head on my chest, allowing me to comfort him and stroke his hair.

“Go,” I told him softly. “You have to go back. Your family needs you.”

“Not without you. Because my family does need me. Right here.”

I swallowed. I didn’t want to go back to England. I didn’t want things to be like they were before.

But he had to have learned. He swore he had.

I had to give him a chance.

“Your family will go with you,” I told him. “We’ll be at your side. It’s called making a choice.”

That light returned. Not a lot, but a little. Some glimmer of hope that warmed my belly and every other part of me.

“All right,” Xavier said, sitting back up, full of resolve.

Solemnly, he lifted my hand to kiss my knuckle and the ring he’d placed there. Like the duke he was. Like so many noblemen before him.

“We’ll stay in New York,” he told me. “But first, you’ll come with me to take care of business in Kendal.”

“I will,” I said with a small smile, though a bubble of dread formed in my stomach.

He kissed my hand again and smiled. “You will. But this time, you’ll go as my duchess.”