Page 39 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)
Six Months Later
“Oh! Is that not the most adorable baby you have ever seen!”
The Marchioness of Brandon leaned down as she gently stroked the baby’s cheek with her finger, her smile filled with the inexplicable pride of a grandmother.
She turned towards her husband. “Is he not the most adorable baby you have ever seen, Jacob?”
The Marquess gazed down at his new grandson. “Verily, my love.”
After three decades of marriage, the man knew better than to contradict what his wife was saying. Besides, Phoebe knew from the way that her father was smiling at the infant in Alice’s arms that he was truly proud.
But more than that, he was happy that both mother and child were in perfect health.
They were gathered in Blackthorn Estate a week after Alice had given birth to her and Colin’s first child. Her labor had lasted for the better part of a day, and there were many times when Ethan, Daniel, and Hudson had to restrain the Duke of Blackthorn from bursting into her bedchambers, where she was surrounded by a renowned doctor and midwives.
“Calm yourself, Blackthorn,” Hudson had admonished him. “Your wife is already doing her best to deliver your child. You do not need to add yourself to the list of her worries.”
“I would like to see you so calm when it is your turn, Wolverton!” Colin had snarled back at him.
Hudson had merely regarded him with a look of slight frustration and refused to say anything more on the matter.
When the strong cries of a babe finally pierced the tense air and Alice’s well-being had been confirmed, the Duke of Blackthorn summarily dismissed all of his guests so his wife could rest peacefully without their family and friends hovering over her incessantly.
It was only now that everybody had been allowed to come visit the Duchess of Blackthorn and the new heir of the Duke of Blackthorn.
“Have you thought of a name for this dashing young man, already?” The Marchioness turned towards the proud parents.
Phoebe saw Alice and Colin share a smile before the new mother spoke up.
“We have decided to name him Alexander, after Colin’s father,” she said softly.
Colin’s smile was tinged with sadness as he looked at his son. “He would have loved to meet him.”
Alice patted his arm. “I am sure he is looking after him right now.”
“Baby Alexander,” Evie breathed. “It is a lovely name.”
She wiped a tear from her eye, and Daniel drew her into his arms with a slight frown. That man never could stand to see his beloved wife in any sort of distress.
The rest of the small party agreed that it was, indeed, a fine name for the next Duke of Blackthorn. However, the Marquess of Brandon could not help but cast a meaningful look at his other daughter and her—as of yet—flat midsection.
“Well, I do have two daughters,” he said wistfully, gazing at Phoebe. “Perhaps my next grandson shall be named after me, then.”
“But Papa!” Phoebe protested, feeling a slight warmth in her cheeks. “I have yet to… ah… conceive…”
“Do not worry, my dawn,” Ethan whispered in her ear. “I shall be very happy to assist you in remedying that situation…”
“Why, you! Oh, you truly are an unrepentant rogue!” she hissed at him, blushing madly as she stumbled over her words.
“True. But I am your rogue—to do with as you wish.”
Ethan said the last part with a meaningful look at his wife, who had now turned a brighter red at his less-than-subtle innuendo, while everybody else looked at them with some amusement.
The Marchioness watched the interaction between her youngest daughter and her son-in-law and laughed.
“Well, I should say that it is only right that you have at least one grandson named after you, my dear,” she told her husband. “Seeing as it is partly your schemes that got both your daughters married!”
Both Phoebe and Alice blinked in confusion.
“What do you mean, Mama? What sort of schemes?” Alice asked.
Lady Brandon laughed and shook her head. “Oh, your papa had been feigning illness all along! He’d roped me into his schemes because he thought that you two were taking too much time dawdling over choosing suitors!”
Both Duchesses gaped at their father in shock.
“Papa, you did not!” Phoebe exclaimed, aghast.
“Well, not entirely!” the Marquess replied, waving his hands before him defensively. “I was ill for some time—just not as bad as you both assumed.”
“Well, it did work out for the best.” Lady Brandon beamed at her husband. “I could not have done a better job at matchmaking myself!”
Everybody burst into laughter at the two of them—a mother who was frantic to secure her daughters’ future while ensuring their happiness at the same time, and a father who decided to take matters into his own hands to speed up the process.
One could say that it was a rather unconventional technique, but one that was incredibly effective, as the entire ton still looked up to Lord and Lady Brandon for successfully marrying their daughters off to dukes, no less.
Later, as everyone proceeded to the dining room for dinner, Ethan leaned down to whisper in Phoebe’s ear, “I, for one, am forever grateful to my brilliant father-in-law for concocting such a plan.”
She turned to him in shock. “You do not say that you find his antics commendable!”
“If it had not been for him”—he smiled mischievously at her—“I would have never met that odd fellow in that gentlemen’s club that night.”
Phoebe bristled at his remark. “Odd?” she shot back with a raised eyebrow. “I shall have you know that I looked exceedingly fine for a gentleman! Certainly better-looking than most dandies out there!”
“Oh, you will find no argument from me on that quarter.”
She pulled back from his embrace and narrowed her eyes at him. “You do not believe me!” she said in an accusatory tone. “Well, I never—” She huffed indignantly. “One of these days, I am going to steal your clothes and go gallivanting around clubs myself. Perhaps I might even manage to charm an opera singer. Or two.”
“You do that,” he said in a dark voice, “and I would be forced to get my clothes back…”
Phoebe looked up at him through her eyelashes, her mouth going dry as his gaze darkened.
“You… would not do that…” she murmured breathily.
Heavens, why did she always seem to lose her wits whenever he looked at her that way?
“And then,” he continued in a silky voice, “I would take you back home and punish you for doing such a scandalous thing.”
Oh, yes, please!
Almost a year into their marriage and Ethan had made good on his promise to devour her each and every day. The hungry look he was giving her now let her know that he intended to do exactly that.
Oh, goodness.
“Do y-you think…” she stammered and then licked her lips. “Do you think it might be too early for us to excuse ourselves?”
Ethan laughed huskily, pulling her into his arms. The hallway was pretty much deserted now, except for the both of them, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her belly.
Phoebe had to stifle a soft moan at the thought of Ethan sinking his great length into her.
“Well, my beautiful dawn, your father did mention that he wanted a grandson named after him.” He grinned wickedly at her. “Perhaps we should get to the business of making his grandson before he decides to feign illness again.”
Oh, goodness… she loved it when he smiled at her like that!
She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled shyly up at him. “I love you, Ethan.”
She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His arms wrapped around her like steel bands, holding her tight against his chest as he deepened the kiss.
His tongue swept over her lower lip before he sucked on it gently, and Phoebe let out a slight moan. She could feel the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against her soft belly.
He wanted her. Now.
Just as well, because she wanted him, too.
“I love you more, Phoebe,” he murmured huskily.
She laughed at that. Ethan usually let her have the last word, but never when it came to saying “I love you,” and really, she was perfectly happy to let him have his way.
After all, they now had the rest of their lives to show each other just how they felt.
Forever never looked better.
The End.