Page 40 of Marquess of Winter (The Wild Brides #3)

"I'm so uncomfortable," Cressida admitted with a groan and a stretch.

Matthew chuckled lightly. "I told you that we could do this while you were lying down! How many drawings do I have of you, and in how many different positions? You could have chosen to recline for this one."

"But I haven't been able to sit up for a drawing you've done of me in months," Cressida said. "It's been too hard to sit long enough to have you draw me. Now that Charles has been born, I'm feeling much more capable of remaining seated instead of standing or reclining—but it is still a bit uncomfortable."

"Perhaps we should stop for now." Matthew set his pencil and sketchbook down.

"I'd like to keep going. I want to see what it looks like when you're finished," Cressida insisted. "You know that I always feel better about myself when I see your drawings. I haven't been able to dress myself up lately, and I've struggled to feel my best—I think this drawing will help me with that."

"I'm happy to keep going, of course. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable." Matthew thought for a moment. "What if we take a break? What if we go and look in on Charles together? That would allow you to walk around and stretch your limbs a bit, and then when we came back you might feel refreshed enough to keep going."

"We should check on him," Cressida said, a worried note entering her voice. "It's been too long." She got to her feet.

Matthew went to her and put an arm around her. "It's been twenty minutes," he said reassuringly. "Genevieve is in the nursery with him. She's a very good nurse. I have no fear for Charles' well-being. But if it will provide you with a satisfactory break to go and look in on him then I think we should do it."

Cressida sighed. "I worry too much about him, don't I?"

"And now you understand how I felt when you carried him! It's hard not to over-worry about the ones we love."

"Speaking of which, the season is about to begin," Cressida said. "Victoria will be attending balls again, looking for suitors, and I want to accompany her. I can't leave her in my father's hands—I don't trust him to be able to do what's best for her. He has never shown good judgment."

"No, I quite agree," Matthew said. "She should have someone reliable at her side, and I can't think who would be any better than you. Do you think you'll be able to bring yourself to leave Charles at home alone for whole evenings at a time so that you can attend balls and other functions?"

"I'll have to find a way to do that eventually," Cressida said. "You're right that Genevieve is trustworthy. And your sisters keep telling me that it gets easier to be separated from one's baby the more time goes by. I'm sure that by the end of the season it will seem very manageable to me—I simply have to find a way to get used to it."

"You have my support," Matthew said. "Whatever you need to do for Victoria. And I'll help you in every way I can."

"Thank you, Matthew. I don't know what I would do without you."

He turned to face her and kissed her forehead gently. "You will never have to concern yourself with that question," he said.

She tipped her face up to his, and he kissed her again, his mouth finding hers this time. Little moments like these were the highlight of Matthew's day—the highlight of his life, in fact. He was stunned and delighted to find himself with a lady he loved, a lady he was free to kiss whenever he liked and who wanted to kiss him in return. It was like a dream he had imagined for himself had come true, against all the odds.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped the fabric of his shirt briefly, and the strength of her response to his kiss made him lose himself slightly. Sometimes he wished everything else in their lives would melt away, and that they could spend all their time focused solely on one another.

But he could never wish away his son, the little marvel that had change everything. He and Cressida stepped apart from one another. Their hands found each other and they walked into the nursery together.

Genevieve, the nurse, sat in the rocking chair in the corner knitting something. She didn't rise when they came in—she had been instructed that it wasn't necessary to move or to speak while Charles was sleeping, because he shouldn't be disturbed. She nodded a greeting to them, and Matthew nodded back before approaching the cradle.

Baby Charles slept peacefully. He was the image of his mother, and that fact was as marvelous as anything else. Matthew felt as though he could have spent hours standing here, just looking down at his son, taking in the perfect miracle of him. Surely no baby since the dawn of time had ever been so beautiful.

Charles yawned and stretched in his sleep, and, as he did thousands of times every single day, Matthew gave thanks for the fact that he had changed his mind about the decision to have a child.

He had almost deprived himself of the beautiful life he was now living. He had almost spent all his days alone—and he would never have known what he was missing.

Cressida stepped up beside him, took his hand, and rested her head on his shoulder. "He's so beautiful," she murmured.

Matthew nodded. "He is."

And so was she.

Every bit of their lives together was more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed of.

The End