Page 51

Six Months Later

“I really do not think I have ever been anywhere as beautiful as this.” Gemma curled her hands around the railing of the terrace, her gaze lifted as she looked out to sea. The Larsen estate in Devon stood high atop a hill, looking out over the English Channel. Today, in late winter, the ocean was a dark gunmetal gray, peaked with white caps all the way to the horizon. Gulls wheeled above the water in the late-afternoon night, their calls carrying on the wind.

Wyatt smiled to himself, taking in the sight of Gemma at the railing. He was fairly certain she had commented on the beauty of the landscape almost every day of the two months they had been here. He was thrilled that she loved the place as much as he did. And even more thrilled she was enjoying the Devon estate by his side, rather than as the escape route he had initially offered it to her as.

Gemma turned away from the sea to catch his eye. “What are you smiling at?”

“Just you.” With the hood of her cloak pulled up over her hair, and her cheeks pink with the cold, Wyatt was not sure his wife had ever looked so beautiful. He came to stand behind her at the railing, wrapping his arms around her. Almost instinctively, his hands found the faint swell of her belly, covering it with a protective gesture. Gemma's hands moved to cover his own and she turned her head to meet his kiss.

“Shall we take a walk?” she asked.

“You are not too tired?”

She smiled. “I am not too tired.”

Wyatt grinned. “Good. Because I should like to make our last night here for a while one to remember.” He pressed his lips into her neck. After seven months of marriage, his love for his wife had only grown in intensity. As had his desire for her—made all the more potent by the knowledge that his child was growing inside her.

Gemma turned to face him. “We will make it a night to remember, my love. But first I want you to take me out for a walk. I am going to miss this place terribly when we are back in London.”

As will I. He was going to miss the long nights spent with Gemma by the fireside, with not a soul to interrupt them. He was going to miss the way her eyes lit up when she watched the sun sink into the water each evening. And he was going to miss holding her in his arms while the waves broke outside the window. But their life awaited them in London. There would be books to be kept and letters from tenants to respond to, people to visit and events to attend. It would be mere weeks before the new season was upon them. “We will be back here soon,” he promised.

Gemma smiled. “Is that so? I think we may be a little busy in the next few months, my love. In case you had forgotten.”

He chuckled. Not a chance of that happening. In not too long, there would be a brand new soul to love and take care of. A son or daughter to raise. Wyatt could hardly wait. Even if it did mean putting off a return to Devon for a little while longer.

He and Gemma walked hand in hand out of the house and out towards the windswept moorland at the edge of estate. Here, the trees were gnarled and bent as though hunching against the wild weather, and great black boulders dotted the landscape. Dark clouds were beginning to gather overhead, but Wyatt knew this sky well. Knew they had a little time before the clouds opened and the earth turned to mud.

As a boy, Wyatt had loved coming out here to the moors. He had faint memories of his own father running with him across this rugged ground, while wind tore and their clothes and hair. It was one of the few solid memories he had of the former Duke. Somehow, his father, that hazy figure on the fringes of his memory, always felt closer when he was out here in Devon. Later, when he had come out to the estate with his mother and grandmother, Wyatt had enjoyed riding across the moor and conjuring up those dim memories of his father.

He wrapped an arm around Gemma's shoulder, tugging her close. “I cannot wait to bring our son or daughter out here,” he told her. I cannot wait for my own child to make wonderful memories out here, just as I have done.

Gemma grinned at him, the wind whipping her hair against her cheeks. “I am sure your mother will have something to say about letting the daughter of a Duke go tearing across the moors.”

He chuckled, bringing her gloved fingers to his lips. Though Martha was much more accepting of Gemma these days, Wyatt knew his mother still harbored strong views on what was best for her family. “Well,” he said, “if that daughter of a duke is as fierce and feisty as her mother, then I do not imagine there will be any way of keeping her from doing so.” He pulled her close, drawing her into a deep kiss. “Now,” he said. “Let's get you back inside before the wind blows us both away.”

***

As Ivy carried the last of her belongings towards the coach the next morning, Gemma stood at the window of her bedchamber and looked out over the sea. How utterly beautiful it was here. But while she already could not wait for their next visit, she was also looking forward to returning to London, and the life she and Wyatt had laid out before them.

Before marrying Wyatt, Gemma had barely spared a thought to the prospect of becoming a mother. Indeed, it was something she had never imagined would happen for her—and nor had she wanted it to. But the thought of Wyatt's child growing inside her; the thought of raising their family together, filled her with nervous excitement and joy.

Strange how my life has taken such a dramatic turn from where I thought I would end up. And even stranger how breath-takingly happy it has made me.

Ivy reappeared in the doorway. “Everything is packed, Your Grace. The carriage is waiting.”

“Thank you, Ivy.” Gemma cast one last glance out the window at the rolling water, then pulled the door closed behind her.

It was late the next afternoon by the time they returned to London. Gemma had never been so glad to see the looming black gates of Larsen Manor. Her every muscle was aching from two days jolting across the country roads, and she felt weighed down with exhaustion. The moment she got inside, she would have Ivy fetch hot water for a bath, and she would soak in there for hours. The long coach journey, Gemma had to admit, was the one downside to the beautiful Devon estate.

As they approached the house, Wyatt began to laugh. “Looks like we have a welcoming party.”

Gemma leaned across him to peer out the window. Martha and Sandra were hurrying down the front steps of the house, with Lucy the terrier yapping at their heels.

Gemma smiled to herself. She could not pretend to be surprised at the greeting. When she and Wyatt had sent a letter home last month telling his mother and grandmother they were expecting a child, the Dowagers had been full of excitement. Their letter had come almost immediately, full of advice and well-wishes and thinly veiled demands. When Wyatt had cut down the Dowagers' suggestion of an early return home, his mother had even threatened to come to Devon to see them, and lavish Gemma with the attention and care due to an expectant mother. Thankfully, Wyatt had convinced her he was giving her all the attention she needed—and more—and Martha had decided to remain at home.

The coachman had barely opened the door and pulled out the step before the two Dowagers' faces poked into the carriage. Lucy scrambled up the steps and leaped up onto Gemma's lap.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Sandra queried. “I do hope the journey was not too trying for you.”

“We have supper waiting for you,” Martha added. “Soup and fresh bread. But do let us know if there is anything else you would like. I am sure the cook can make up whatever it is you desire.”

Gemma narrowly managed to hold back her laugh at their enthusiasm. She tipped Lucy off her lap as she made to stand. “Soup and fresh bread sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

“It does,” Wyatt put in. “But do you think you might let us out of the carriage?”

The Dowagers backed away from the step and Wyatt climbed down, offering his hand to Gemma. He gave her fingers a squeeze as she stepped out of the carriage, with Ivy and Sampson, Wyatt's valet, close behind.

The moment Gemma's feet touched the ground, Sandra flew at her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “So wonderful to see you, my darling. And such wonderful, wonderful news.”

“Indeed.” Martha elbowed her mother-in-law out of the way and pressed a hand to Gemma's belly. “I just cannot wait to meet my grandchild.” She looked into Gemma's eyes and gave her a warm smile. The gesture caught Gemma off guard. She was not sure she had ever seen such a genuine and heartfelt gesture from her mother-in-law. She found herself returning the smile tentatively.

“Are you getting enough rest, Gemma, dear?” asked Martha. “I hope you have not been feeling too ill.”

“The cook can make you up a wonderful tea to help the nausea,” Sandra added. “It truly does wonders.”

Wyatt reached for Gemma's hand again, tugging her out of the Dowagers' reach. “Mother! Grandmother! Give her a little space, would you?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” gushed Sandra. She scooped the dog up off the floor and tucked her under her arm. Then she looped her free arm through her daughter-in-law's. “Come on then, Martha. Let us see to it that supper is on the table for the mother-to-be.”

Arm in arm, they hurried up the front steps and disappeared into the house. Wyatt stopped walking and looked at Gemma with raised eyebrows. “Did I just see what I think I saw? Are those two getting along for once?”

“It seems they are. Perhaps excitement over the new baby is something they can both agree on.” Gemma shook her head. “Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

Wyatt chuckled. “I cannot think of many.”

“I can.” Gemma began to walk up to the house with him, her hand tucked into the fold of his arm. “What about the cold and unfeeling Lady Highbrow marrying such a rake as the Duke of Larsen?”

Wyatt grinned, his blue eyes sparkling in the light of the lamps above the front door. “Well,” he said, “I happen to know that Lady Highbrow was not cold and unfeeling at all. It turns out she was actually rather hot-blooded once she was in the arms of the right man.”

Gemma smiled to herself, feeling herself blush with desire. “And I also happen to know that the Duke of Larsen was not such a rake after all. It seems he was quite easy to tame. Once he was in the arms of the right lady, of course.”

Wyatt stopped walking and pulled her into him. He kissed her lips, without even bothering to check if anyone was around. “I love you, Gemma,” he said. “I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. And our family.”

The End