Rory (29 page)

Now, he was recovering in the west wing, being fawned over by the women of the household, particularly a pretty scullery maid whose mother worked as a housekeeper. On her day off she had wheeled Zachary about in a chair, and Shannon had watched them out in the gardens, drinking tea and playing cards. He seemed happier than he’d been in a very long time, and she had great faith that all would be right in their world.

“You are thinking of Zachary,” Rory said, his hand moving down her ribs, making the hair on her arms stand on end.

“I am. He seems happy, and I’m so grateful to everyone for being so kind.”

“He’s going to be just fine. I know he will walk again.”

“Aye, Johnny said he’s making him crutches so that when he’s strong enough, he can use them.”

Johnny had been an enormous help and a wonderful friend to Rory. It seemed that he was the last to know about Shannon and Rory, and he had been disappointed, and even told her as much, but she knew he was also popular with the local girls and would find a mate worthy of his love and affection.

“The boy was in love with you.”

Shannon shook her head. “No, he wasn’t. Johnny is sweet, and I owe him a lot of gratitude for all that he has done for us.”

Rory’s brows lifted and she smiled, seeing jealousy in his eyes. “Do not fear. I love ye, my husband. No one ever could compare to you.”

“Thank you for that,” he said, kissing her gently. “I love you, too, and I love that brogue.”

She knew he loved her. After all, he had fallen in love with
her when she was just a servant. Lillith had told her that Rory had talked to his father about marrying her
before
he knew her true identity. The love she felt for him had grown even stronger with that knowledge.

“Thank you for everything. I owe you my life.”

“Don’t forget Mr. Clemens and his men,” Rory said with a smile. “If not for them, I do not know what would have happened to any of us.”

“You are right.” She grinned when he pulled her on top of him so that she straddled his hips. His large cock swelled up against her belly and she took it in her hand, sliding her fingers up and down the solid length.

“Greedy man,” she said, although she was just as greedy as he was. She loved her husband’s body, knew that she could never get enough. She could only hope that they would forever be this happy and content.

Guiding her onto his length, he released a moan as he sank into her an inch at a time, until the head of his cock touched her womb.

Sunlight shone through the crack of the drapes, directly onto Shannon’s beautiful body. He cupped her pert breasts, his thumbs brushing over the small, pink peaks of her nipples. “Your breasts seem bigger to me.”

She smiled. “Aye, love, they usually grow when a woman becomes pregnant.”

His eyes widened. “You are with child?”

“I believe so,” she said, hoping he was as happy as she was.

Ever so slowly, a wide smile spread across his face and he kissed her. She started to ride him, and his fingers slid around her waist; she could see him looking for other signs of her pregnancy. She smiled, knowing he could look all he wanted, but she was only weeks along.

They came together and then he fell on the bed beside her,
enfolding her in his arms, their limbs wrapped around each other. “I can hardly wait to see our child.”

“It will be a while yet, my love.”

“My family will be ecstatic. Three grandchildren in quick succession. All our children will grow up together. Can you imagine if we all have girls?”

Or boys–would they have the same wicked reputations as their fathers?

She touched the scar on his shoulder that was still pink and puckered, and gently kissed it. “Do you realize this wound is responsible for us being together?”

“Are you saying you’re happy I was shot?”

She laughed under her breath. “Of course not. I was worried sick about you.”

“You were tough to seduce.”

She lifted a brow. “You seduced me? I thought I was the one who seduced you.”

He looked surprised at that, and she laughed under her breath. Months ago, when she had come to England, she had never imagined that she would marry a handsome young lord, or that the man would be one of the infamous Rakehells of Rochester. And yet against all odds, she had found the man of her dreams, married him, and now she carried his child.

He cupped her face with a large palm. “Before our child is born, I want to take you and Zach to Ireland.”

She lifted her cheek from his chest. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes, once Zachary is fit to travel, of course.”

“How long will we stay?”

“As long as you wish.”

Her greatest desire was to take Zachary home, to help him rebuild his life, but most of all, to help them both bury the ghosts of their past and begin again.

And she was off to a wonderful start, with an impossibly beautiful man, who had made all her dreams come true.

Lord and Lady Rochester stood on the balcony of their bedchamber at Claymoore Hall and looked over the lush, green lawns where they had watched their sons grow from boys to men.

“Well, I can hardly believe we have finished what we set out to do mere months ago, Lord Rochester. Our boys are married and will soon be fathers.”

Lord Rochester kissed the top of Betsy’s head. “Indeed, you are a woman of your word. You always have been. You did well, my dear.”

She smiled. “I did nothing. They undermined me at every turn and ignored my choices for them. But I admit when I am defeated. I was never very good at matchmaking.”

“How right you are.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “You are not supposed to agree with me, my lord.”

He chuckled. “Do you not remember when you tried to match me up with your cousin?”

“Yes, well … I had thought you liked her.”

“I was only befriending her to get to you.”

She smiled at the memory, remembering the exaltation she felt when he had started pursuing her in earnest. She had been the envy of every woman that season. Indeed, she could hardly believe the handsome earl had singled her out of all the young debutantes that summer.

“And what of the time you set up an encounter with your brother and your friend, Lady Dash?”

Recalling the horribly botched rendezvous, Betsy shrugged. “Stop now,” she said crossly, but nestled against his chest, her
heart lurching when she realized he had lost even more weight. She did not want to lose her lover, husband and friend.

“I remember when I brought you here to Claymoore Hall for our honeymoon. What a beautiful day.”

“It was a beautiful day,” she whispered, recalling the moment as though it had been just yesterday and not thirty-three years ago. Her heart had been pounding a million miles an hour as she stepped from the carriage and looked up at the servants who lined up on the staircase, ready to meet their new mistress.

She had felt so undeserving. Honestly, a part of her still did. She’d had such a wonderful life.

“I wouldn’t change a thing, Betsy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Not a single moment.”

She turned in his arms, looked up into his weathered face, and smiled. “Nor I.”

She knew their days together were limited and was grateful for all that they had seen and experienced through the years. Theirs was a love built on a strong foundation, and God willing, their sons would experience a similar kind of love with their wives. The kind of love that came along just once in a lifetime.