Page 61

F rom the marble balcony of their apartments overlooking the city, Juliana leaned into the cool morning air.

Below, Florence stirred awake with the faint sounds of hooves clattering on stone and wood smoke curling into the pale sky.

The first blush of sunlight glinted off the terracotta tiles of Il Duomo.

The domed cathedral reminded her a little of St. Paul’s in London. She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to the balustrade. For the first time since their magical wedding trip, the quiet weight of homesickness swept over her.

They decided to travel the entire route by sea rather than sail from London to Belgium and complete the journey by land.

Having gone to Italy for his own wedding trip, as his physician, Ashton suggested traveling by ship was preferable to spending long days trapped inside a jostling coach as he and the duchess had.

Ashton, however, admitted he’d been averse to the sea voyage due to his propensity for seasickness.

The long voyage by ship had given Victor’s wounds time to heal completely—that and the undivided attention and care he received from Juliana.

“You are fussing over me like I’m an infant.” He’d grinned at her, letting her know he loved every moment of it.

“There isn’t much else to do on this ship.”

At which point he pulled her onto his lap and kept her busy for hours.

Florence—or Firenze, as the Italians called it—had been a dream.

On golden sunlit afternoons, Victor had led her down narrow cobbled streets, his hand warm around hers as he pointed out sun-dappled fountains and the tucked-away atelier of his old painting master.

The man had spoken animatedly about how Victor was his favorite and best student and kissed her cheeks, saying, “Bellissima!”

It had been wonderful, but she sighed. This day, above all others, she missed her family.

Behind her, bed linens rustled, followed by soft footfalls. Victor wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his hard chest. “Mmm. Come back to bed, amore mio.”

She rested her head against him, breathing in his scent. “Dopo.” Her Italian, although not nearly as proficient as his, had improved as she immersed herself in the rich, romantic language.

Burying his face in her hair, he chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest against her back. “Not later. Now. It’s Christmas morning, and I want to give you a gift.”

She fought back the grin. “Oh? What type of gift might that be?”

His laugh, full and throaty, indicated his mind traveled in the same direction as hers. But he surprised her when he said, “Not that. Although I can definitely arrange that. Now, come.”

He spun her around and tugged her hand as he led her back to the bed. “Close your eyes, and don’t peek.”

She giggled. “You shouldn’t say that when you’re naked. How can I help myself?” Yet, she obeyed and sat silently on the large four-poster bed.

Sounds of Victor moving about the room and a drawer opening tempted her to crack one eye open, but she resisted.

“Hold out your hands.”

“I’m afraid to. Once, Drake gave me a toad.”

Warm breath brushed against her neck. “It’s not a toad. I promise.”

Featherlight, the paper he placed atop her upturned hands skimmed the surface as light as a kiss. What?

Victor waited a beat before saying, “Go ahead. Open your eyes and read.”

The wax that had sealed the letter was already broken, and she read the contents, confused how a letter from Drake could contain a gift.

Pleasantries were exchanged with Drake waxing on about Kitty’s amazing ability to say “ Dada” and enquiring how they were enjoying Italy.

Then her gaze snagged and froze on the following:

Per your request, I have secured three excellent mares and an exceptional stallion from Tattersall’s, all of them from the best bloodlines. The stallion’s name is Victory. A fitting name, no? We shall settle the cost upon your return home.

Give Juliana my love.

Dumbstruck, her throat closed around the sudden swell of emotion. Juliana blinked back the tears. One hand journeyed up to cover her mouth, while the letter trembled in the other. The words on the page blurred, searing into heart.

Victor sat beside her. “For your horse breeding enterprise. I’ll admit, three mares aren’t nearly enough, but we don’t want to wear Victory out too soon. And if?—”

Juliana threw herself into Victor’s arms and smothered his face with kisses.

“Oomph.” In between kisses, Victor managed to ask, “So you like it?”

“I love it. But where will we keep them? Not in London?”

“Your brother said we could keep them on his estate in Dorset for the time being. At least until—well, I inherit. I didn’t think you would want to travel up to Lincolnshire to work with them. Not only is it far from your brother, but my mother is there.”

She gazed at the man who understood her so well. “You’ve thought of everything.”

He plucked the letter from her grasp, set it aside, then took both of her hands in his. “I want you to know how much I support your dreams, just as you’ve supported mine. If you like, I can purchase some land by your brother’s estate so you can be close to him and breed the horses there.”

Arms wrapped around his neck, she grinned at him. She was going to wait, but what better time than then? “I have a gift for you, too.”

Juliana’s response to his gift would have been more than sufficient, but Victor wondered when she would have found time to go shopping without him.

They’d spent almost every single moment together, both awake and sleeping.

Their time together in Florence had flown by, yet over the last few weeks, he sensed a longing in her.

She hid it well, but he had become well versed in her moods during the five months since their marriage, and he admitted their time in Italy was coming to an end.

“That’s not necessary, tesoro mio. Everything I ever wanted is right here in my arms.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t return this gift, but you will have to wait to receive it.”

“Is it back home like your horses?”

A pink blush covered her cheeks. “No. But it will take some time to arrive.”

“How long?”

“Victor! Don’t you really have any idea what I’m trying to tell you?”

He blinked. Then barked a laugh. “Are you calling me a dolt?”

In answer, she placed his hand on her abdomen. “Your gift is in here.”

Stunned with the realization, he blinked, his mouth dropping open, then slapped a hand over his eyes. “Good God, I am a dolt.” In hindsight, he wondered why she hadn’t become pregnant sooner. Although, it had taken Cilla and Timothy years, so he excused himself for his obtuseness. “A child? Truly?”

She nodded, her eyes shimmering once again with tears. “Are you happy?”

“No. Estatico.” His fingers hovered, then settled reverently against the soft rise beneath her nightrail. The world seemed to hush around them with quiet promise. “When?”

“Late June or early July, I think. Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I can’t decide. Can we have one of each?”

Juliana’s eyes grew wide. “At the same time?”

Lord, but she made him laugh. “Amore mio. I will tell you what my father said to Cilla upon her announcement. A healthy child is all that matters.” He placed a soft kiss where their child was growing inside her. “And you, of course. Now that I’ve found you, I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He pulled her onto his lap for a long, sensuous kiss.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “I’ve sensed your restlessness—your longing for home, and that you miss your family, amore mio.

But traveling in winter would be treacherous either across the Alps or by sea.

” He placed another kiss on her abdomen.

“We have precious cargo to protect. Will you be heartbroken if we have to wait until spring? I promise I’ll get you home before the baby arrives. ”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “As long as I have you.”

“Sempre,” he whispered before lying her back on the bed and showing her how much she really did mean to him.

Would you like an extra sneak peek three years into Victor and Juliana’s future?