Never Surrender to a Scoundrel (30 page)

S
amuel fussed, rousing Clarissa from her sleep. She stretched, breaking free of her dream—a very nice and sensual dream about Dominick that she regretted ending—but what a happy reality to wake up to.

Groggily she lifted onto one elbow and peered at the baby's tiny face.

“Hello there, sweet boy.” She smiled, love rushing up like a burbling fountain, straight from her heart.

He fisted his hands, closed his blue eyes, and let out a squawk in response. His arms and legs went to moving.

“I know,” she murmured soothingly, and gently rubbed his chest and stomach until he calmed. At nearly two months old, he was a very easy child who slept well and ate healthily. She drew her fingertip along his robust cheek, and he grinned.

“What a smile,” she murmured. “So handsome. Just like your father.”

His father—Dominick, whom she'd just dreamed of kissing until her toes curled. Until she saw stars.

She sighed. Since the baby's birth, there'd been only that: kissing. Well…a bit more than that. She blushed, just thinking about the way she'd pleasured him the night before. But it had been nearly eight weeks, and she felt that, at last, she was ready to return to more mutually satisfying intimacies.

Miss Randolph appeared beside the bed, bestowing an affectionate glance on the child. Clarissa often teased that when Samuel was present, she could have a caterpillar on her nose and her lady's maid wouldn't even notice, because the older woman so doted on the baby.

“It's almost time to dress for dinner,” said Miss Randolph.  Hearing her voice, Samuel's gaze darted toward her. “Would you like me to summon the nanny to take the young viscount to the nursery?”

Clarissa sat up and gathered Samuel in his blanket. “I'd like to take him up myself. If you could just hold him for a moment while I tidy up?”

“I might be persuaded to do that.” Her smile broadening, Miss Randolph reached for the baby, lifting him into her arms with the blanket trailing over. Peering down, she gazed into his face, smiling. “The things I do for you, Master Samuel.”

He let out a bellow. Miss Randolph lifted him to her shoulder and rubbed his back, drifting toward the window, where afternoon light streamed through. “Some letters arrived. From your mother and sisters.”

Clarissa's heart jumped. Letters! She couldn't get enough of them. While the repairs to Frost End had been made, she and Blackmer had remained at Darthaven for the birth of their firstborn and thereafter, and had been very happy with their decision to stay. She had grown so much closer to Lord and Lady Stade, and Colin, and now truly thought of them as her family. She had also made many new friends, both in Ashington and on the surrounding estates. Still, she missed her family, and looked forward to next spring. Samuel would be old enough to travel, and Dominick had promised her they could go to London for the season. She couldn't wait to introduce her husband and children to all her friends.

“I'll read them when I return, when you try to make sense of my hair.”

Miss Randolph nodded, her cheek resting atop Samuel's downy head. “I'll place them on the dressing table.”

Clarissa washed at the basin and, with a quick glance in the mirror, did her best to repair her crushed hair. In the closet, she found her shoes.

A moment later, she climbed the stairs, Samuel snuggled in her arms. Clarissa could only smile now, thinking back on the difficulties that had once so divided her husband's family. Those same difficulties had, in the end, brought them closer together. They had all come so far, and it seemed the high walls they had built up against one another had never existed at all.

As for Colin, every now and then he broached the subject of marrying and taking residence at Frost End, but thus far he had shown no preference for any particular young lady and seemed content working together with Dominick to manage the family's estates.

Once upstairs, Clarissa neared the nursery and to her surprise saw her brother-in-law Colin standing in the shadows outside the open half-door, smiling, his eyes bright with humor. Seeing her, he pressed a finger to his lips—then extended his hand, urging her to join him.

Only when she stood very close did he whisper, “The footman told me I could find Blackmer here. Just look what I found.”

From inside the room, she heard a small voice say “You, sit.”

“I am sitting, sweetheart,” said Dominick. Then more quietly, “If you can call it that.”

He chuckled, and other voices laughed, those of Lord and Lady Stade.

Clarissa's eyes widened at the scene inside. She bit her lower lip, so as not to laugh and reveal herself.

Inside the nursery, Dominick sat on a miniature chair, at a miniature table, the tops of his knees almost level with his chin. A miniature tiara with paste diamonds sparkled in his dark hair. He smiled down, clearly smitten by his tiny, almost-two-year-old hostess, who held out her hands to him—one holding a small teacup and in the other, its matching saucer, and pressing them into his hands.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, righting the upside-down cup onto the saucer and cradling them on his palm.

Clarissa's heart warmed, so full of love and pride she felt dizzied by it.

Gold ringlets bobbed as the little girl toddled around the table in a yellow dress, unceremoniously pressing a cup and saucer into each guest's waiting hands—for across the table from her father sat her grandparents, also perched on tiny chairs and wearing tiaras.

“Thank you, Lady Abigail,” her ladyship exclaimed, her eyes warm with affection.

“Such a sweet child.” Lord Stade chuckled.

His tiara slid off his bald pate and thunked onto the floor. Abigail immediately took note and pattered to his side. Bending, she retrieved the fallen crown and returned it to her grandpapa's tilted head. He held it there, balancing it as she waddled away.

Abigail's smiling nanny stepped forward holding a wooden tray upon which sat a tiny teapot. The child reached for the pot with both chubby hands. Swinging it toward her visitors, “Teeeeeaaaaa?” she offered.

“Why, yes, thank you,” Dominick said.

Clarissa couldn't help but sigh. Her husband had never been so charming or looked as handsome as he did now, doting on their daughter.

Abigail clanked the pot against her father's teacup, nearly toppling it from the saucer, then paused…her eyes focusing on the doorway. “Mama?” She smiled, dropped the pot to the carpet, and clasped her hands, fingers spread wide against her cheeks. “Baby?”

Dominick's gaze redirected toward the door to meet Clarissa's. In that moment, his cheeks warmed ruddily and he grinned. Carefully, he unfolded his long legs and tall frame from the small chair to stand like a Titan at the center of the nursery in white shirt, breeches, and boots as the little girl rushed to the door. He followed, while the nursemaid did her best to assist Lord and Lady Stade up from their chairs.

“Hello, Abigail,” Clarissa called.

“We didn't want to interrupt your tea party,” Colin added, reaching over the door and plucking up his niece. “Give Uncle a kiss.”

She dutifully bussed his cheek—then reached for Clarissa, leaning sideways with her arms wide. “Mama!”

Dominick opened the door, his gaze on Samuel. “Give me the ruffian.”

He took Samuel from Clarissa, and she in turn accepted Abigail from Colin, who appeared unabashedly dismayed at being so quickly cast off by his favorite—and only—niece. He let out an exaggerated growl. “I've got to get some little people of my own.”

“I'm in complete agreement,” answered Clarissa. “Would you like me to invite that pretty Miss Grayson for tea? Or perhaps Lady Barrington—”

His gaze narrowed warily and he answered, “No, thank you. I can do very well on my own.”

But then he smiled—looking at Clarissa and his brother, holding their two children. “What a fine family you are.”

 He strode off toward his parents.

Clarissa looked up at Dominick. “I agree.”

He bent to press a quick kiss to her forehead, his voice soft. “As do I.”

His tiara slipped off, falling between them. Clarissa caught it with one hand, and they laughed.

“Would you like to put it back on?” said Clarissa, offering its return.

He shook his head and chuckled. “I've rather had my fill of such frippery, at least for the afternoon. Perhaps I'll wear diamonds for dinner.”

“Mine,” said Abigail, grinning, taking the crown and wiggling to be freed. Set down, she trundled toward Colin.

Her uncle's eyes lit up. “I get to wear the crown now? I'm so lucky.”

Looking at them, he winked, before allowing himself to be directed by his hostess to one of the small chairs. Lord and Lady Stade, despite their complaints about aging bones, also returned to their places at the table. The nursemaid approached and offered to take Samuel, at which time she and the baby were also led away, the little girl tugging at her skirts. Soon she too was seated, Samuel in her arms, a tiara being perched ever so gently on his small head by his doting sister.

“It appears they are all having a wonderful time,” Dominick observed.

“As am I, just watching them,” replied Clarissa, delighted.

He bent to murmur in her ear. “I haven't seen you all day. I was…hoping I might persuade you into the corridor.”

Her cheeks warmed at the flirtatious tone of his voice. He slipped his hand into hers and, lifting it, pressed his mouth to her fingers.

“I don't think you'd have to do much as far as persuasion,” she murmured, allowing him to lead her out of the room.

He led her to the end of the corridor, into a shadowed alcove where a small window overlooked the lawn, including the long drive that led to Darthaven. Dark clouds rippled across the sky, casting them both in dim blue light.

She shivered. “It already looks like winter out there.”

“It won't be long.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“Are you happy here?”

“Wildly so,” he said. His warmth made her shiver, in the nicest possible way. From the nursery came the sound of laughter, and a happy squeal from Abigail.

They smiled at one another, Clarissa peering up at him. “It was a day much like this when we arrived at Darthaven, a little more than two years ago. Can you believe it?”

“I couldn't be happier.” His head lowered and kissed her nose. “I mean that. I couldn't imagine being more content and fulfilled as a man, as a husband and a father, than I am now. It's all because of you.”

“I feel the same,” she murmured. Yet her smile faded. “There's only the one dark spot.”

“Mmm,” he answered. “St. Guerlain.”

“And his Black Violins,” she murmured.

“It hasn't been so bad, has it?”

“No, it hasn't.” The security agents who protected the house and grounds were largely unnoticeable. “But wouldn't it be nice to wake up one day and know there wasn't anything to worry about? To know that everyone was safe, at last, with no fears for the future?”

“It would be,” he replied.

“Do you think that will ever happen?”

“I do. In fact, I feel very strongly that very soon we'll have resolution.”

“I pray you're right. Look there, a carriage just came through the gates,” said Clarissa, her face turned to the window. “So late in the day. I wonder who it could be.”

Dominick chuckled, looking down with affection into Clarissa's unsuspecting face. What perfect timing—he could not have hoped for better. Though certainly not on the level of his work with the secret service, this bit of subterfuge had been infinitely more satisfying than any mission he could recall.

“Why are you laughing?” She smiled. Then her eyes narrowed in playful suspicion.  “Dominick! Do you know who it is?”

They hadn't made love in what felt like an epoch. Standing this close to her…smelling her floral perfume, mixed all up with
her
, he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. But he'd kept this secret for over a week. She wouldn't pry it from him now, no matter how vividly blue her eyes were. No matter how enticing her pink lips.

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Perhaps.”

“Is it someone I know?” Her hands bunched in his shirt, atop his chest.

“I can't say for certain,” he said vaguely.

“You
do
know.” She pinched his arm. “Tell me!”

“I can't. I promised,” he teased. “But perhaps you should…go downstairs to welcome them.”

“
Them?
” Her eyes widened and her lips parted as, clearly, she considered the possibilities.

She darted away—

He caught her by the arm and pulled her back for a kiss—a fervent blur of soft lips and minted breath. His heart beat faster, as it always did when he kissed her, his vibrant, alluring wife. The woman he loved more deeply as each day passed. How could he have ever known her
before
and not loved her? She was such a part of him now, like the other half of his heart. Being without her seemed so unimaginable now.

She stepped away.

“You're coming with me, aren't you?” She held his hand in both of hers, and pulled him alongside her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

He paused only a moment at the nursery door to rap on the wooden frame. “We've guests.”

His mother bolted from her chair. “Stade, they've arrived. Hurry.”

She grabbed hold of His Lordship's elbow and tugged him up. Colin reached for Abigail, hoisting her into his arms.

Dominick held Clarissa's hand tightly as she descended the stairs, she always a step below him, concerned that she would take a tumble in her excitement, although he knew she was as sure-footed as he. Darthaven's front doors were already open and the footmen outside. Below stood a large traveling carriage that bore a large gold ducal insignia on the door. Several occupants already were on the grass, having disembarked. Gusts of wind pitched their skirts and threatened to dislodge their hats.