Page 26 of The Duke’s Man-At-Arms (The Duke’s Guard #11)

A fortnight later…

“A re ye trying to keep me from me duties, wife?”

“If you have to ask, then I am doing something wrong,” Michaela grumbled. She whirled around and stalked over to the dressing screen in the corner.

“Oh no ye don’t.” O’Malley grabbed hold of her hand and gave it a tug until she tumbled into his embrace. “Ye aren’t stomping off in a temper again, lass. Ye saw for yerself that me wound has healed. It doesn’t pain me nearly as much as I know yer ribs still pain ye. Especially when ye lift something ye shouldn’t.”

Hands on her hips, she demanded, “How would you know that unless you have spies?”

“Ye’d be amazed what a man would do for a steady supply of Mrs. O’Toole’s scones.”

“Garahan is spying on me?” Michaela asked.

“Nay. He and I already have an arrangement with Mrs. O’Toole. She keeps a separate plate of scones on the sideboard for us.”

“Who is it?”

“Why would I be telling ye all me secrets, lass?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Because you know all of mine.”

“If I didn’t have me spies, how would I know that ye’re doing too much work, lifting things ye’d best remember not to? Patrick Robert needs to have the chance to grow strong and be ready to battle his way into the world when ye give birth.”

He drew her into his arms and held her to his heart. “I love ye, lass, more than life itself, but I’m hoping ye’ll listen to reason and not tempt fate by ignoring what ye know is sense. Ye’re carrying, lass. Ye need rest and to put yer feet up. Isn’t that the advice ye gave to Aimee?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Aren’t ye a woman, the same as Aimee?”

“Of course, but—”

“And do ye not love me more than life itself, Michaela-mine?”

She relaxed in his arms and sighed. “I do love you more than life, Emmett.”

“Well then, that’s grand.” He swept her into his arms, walked over to the door, and turned the key in the lock. Staring down at her, he asked, “What was it ye had in mind to tempt me away from me duties?”

“I’m not the expert, you are.” She slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him closer. “I just want you to make love to me.”

She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that rattled his brains and had his body rock hard in seconds. He leaned his forehead against hers. “The door’s locked. I’m thinking we have a bit of time before I’m late. Why don’t I teach you how satisfying it is to make love with yer back against the wall?”

Her eyes widened, and she slowly smiled. “Aren’t you too tall? How will this work?”

“First we need to rid ye of yer clothes.” O’Malley lifted her gown and chemise up and over her head. “Now then, lass, there isn’t time for me to remove all me clothes. Unbutton the placket on me trousers.” He moaned when her hands brushed against his erection, but gathered himself enough to shove them off and step out of them. Naked from the waist down, he growled, “I’m going to put me hands around yer waist and lift ye up. When I do, wrap yer legs around me waist, and yer arms around me neck.”

Her sharp intake of breath when their loins met had him aching with need. He walked toward the wall that faced the gardens and braced her back against it. “Let’s see if ye’re ready to receive me, lass.”

Her moan of ecstasy when he slid one, and then another finger inside of her ensured she was ready to take him. Bringing her to the brink took but moments. Her excitement mirrored his as she begged, “Make love to me, Emmett.”

“With pleasure, lass.” He surged home into her warmth and began the rhythm that would take them where they both wanted to go—a world of love all their own. She screamed his name as she trembled from the orgasm that ripped through her. He shouted hers as he plunged one last time, filling her to the hilt, releasing his seed. “God, I love ye, lass.” He lowered his lips to meet hers.

“I depend upon it, Emmett.”

The pounding on the door interrupted the tender moment and had them both smiling, ending the kiss. “I guess Garahan noticed I wasn’t at me post.”

“Open up, ye randy eedjit !” Garahan demanded. “Ye’re late for yer shift.”

“I’m busy,” O’Malley grumbled, and slipped out of his wife. He held her to his heart before sighing and letting go to find his pants and pull them on. “Fasten me up, lass, and then we’ll find yer chemise.”

Michaela quickly fastened his trousers, and O’Malley slipped the chemise over her head. A loud thump had him chuckling and her asking, “Did Garahan just pound his head on the door…again?”

“Aye, lass, ’tis a daily occurrence, and ye should be used to it by now. Haven’t I told ye that ye don’t need to worry? Garahans are known for their hard heads.”

“In that case, can we make love like that again?”

“Not right at the moment. Me poor cousin is on the verge of apoplexy.”

They were laughing as he helped her don her gown then drew her into his arms. She quietly moaned when he nibbled on her earlobe.

“Meet me here midday, lass.”

She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “For another lesson?”

His green eyes glittered. “Aye. ’Tis time I taught ye how to make love with lips and tongues only.”

“I thought you were jesting about that,” she whispered.

“I never jest about lovemaking.”

Their lips were a breath apart when Garahan started pounding on the door again.

“I’m coming!” O’Malley shouted.

“ Feck me,” Garahan grumbled from the other side of the door. “’Tis what I’m afraid of.”

O’Malley strode to the door, unlocked it, and yanked it open, and quickly closed it behind him. “Don’t just stand here, cousin—we’re late for our shift.” Garahan stuck out his foot to trip O’Malley, who leapt over it and nudged his cousin into the wall with his shoulder. “We can go a few rounds after teatime,” he promised.

“Why not midday?” Garahan asked.

O’Malley grinned. “I’ve a previous engagement.”

“Bollocks!” Garahan swore.

O’Malley’s laughter filled the hallway and drifted under the door to their bedchamber, where Michaela stood staring at the closed door. Laying a hand protectively over her belly, she whispered, “Now then, Patrick Robert, I want you to grow up to be as broad and strong as your da, though I’d prefer it if you weren’t quite as fond of bare-knuckle fighting as he is.”

Eight months later…

Patrick O’Malley raised a glass of the finest poitín … After all, he was in Heaven. His father did the same, saying, “The Lord must agree that we’ve done a fine job watching over Emmett and Michaela.”

“Though they’re in for a surprise, Da.”

They were laughing, while down on Earth, O’Malley gasped. “What do ye mean there’s another babe?” He tried to soothe his wife, bracing her against his broad chest, holding her with the strength of his arms. Sweat slickened the both of them as Michaela fought to catch her breath after another brutally long contraction.

A short while later, O’Malley marveled at the miracle of their twin sons. He lifted his gaze and smiled at the love of his life, who sat beside him on the bed, holding Robert, their youngest, while he held Patrick, the older twin by four minutes.

Michaela brushed the tip of her finger along the curve of Robert’s cheek. Lifting her gaze to meet O’Malley’s, she smiled. “We’ve been blessed, Emmett.”

“That we have, Michaela-mine.” His heart full, he sent up a prayer of thanks to his da and grandparents for keeping watch over Michaela through the birthing. He leaned toward her and rasped, “Kiss me, lass.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Where?”

O’Malley’s joyous laughter filled the room and soared up to Heaven, where two of his guardian angels were still congratulating themselves on a job well done. Patrick refilled their glasses. “Here’s to two more!”

“Twin daughters this time,” his da predicted.

Patrick met his father’s gaze and said, “Where there’s love…”

His da smiled. “There’s life.”