Page 254 of The Enslaved Duet

Instantly, adrenaline coursed through my body, and my eyes snapped open, my vision clear and brilliant as I locked eyes on a pair of silver-blue irises I knew would turn into Alexander’s grey with time.

Our baby.

A sob lodged itself in my throat as my heart pounded hard and heavy in my chest. I felt swollen to bursting with love, overripe and vulnerable.

Baby Davenport was eight pounds, eleven ounces with a thick thatch of black hair and a perfectly formed bow-shaped mouth that was puckered as he fussed slightly in his daddy’s arms.

He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

I looked up at Alexander through my tear slicked eyes and saw in his expression the same prodigious tenderness that had overtaken me.

He sat on the edge of the bed and moved the baby so he could lay on my naked chest. The room was cleared, obviously ordered so by my domineering duke, so we could both watch in awe as the baby snuggled into my swollen breast and curled a fist over my heart.

“I never thought in all my life to dream this kind of dream,” Alexander murmured softly, aware of the sweet, secure cocoon we were enrobed in. “I never believed I would be free of my demons, let alone at liberty to share my life with a woman like you at my side, with beautiful children at our feet. Even if I was free from those chains that bound me, I never would have thought I would be worthy of such a future as this.”

The sob stuck in my throat fell from my lips as I turned my head into his shoulders and let my tears of gratitude anoint his black button-up.

He let me cry even though I know it pained him to watch me. His hand was in my hair, stroking it back from my hot, damp face in a way that soothed me to my ragged core.

I shifted my head back to press a kiss to the strong, steady pulse in his throat and then turned again to look down at the sweet bundle on my chest.

He was warm and quiet, sleeping against me as if he knew just how safe he was in my arms with both of us in the arms of his father.

Alexander would never let anything bad happen to either of us. We were bringing our child into a world without the Order, without Noel Davenport, and without the threat of the mafia hanging over us.

“This is our era of happiness,” I reminded Alexander as I placed a kiss gentle as a butterfly against our son’s soft head. “All he will ever know is joy and light.”

“Yes,” Alexander promised, one of his thick, long fingers uncurled against the baby’s plump cheek. “Though your family is undoubtedly crazy,bella, so I hesitate to say it will be without drama.”

I let out a watery laugh as I ran my nose over the top of the baby’s head so I could drag in some of his sweet infant scent.

“Do we have a name for our future duke?” Alexander asked.

The pregnancy hadn’t been an easy one for either of us emotionally. Even though Noel was gone, he still haunted Pearl Hall and our memories of my truncated first pregnancy like a hellish spectre. Alexander was overbearing and viciously protective the entire nine months, barely letting me out of the house, let alone out of the country to visit my family or work out my existing contracts. I was just as loathe to be parted from our home and my husband. It had been two years since the end of our horrors, but it still felt as though no time had passed since I’d been back home at Pearl Hall as its mistress, and I wasn’t ready to be away from them for any real length of time.

I had morning sickness the entire pregnancy, horrible nightmares that lingered long after I woke, and terrible hot flashes that had Alexander installing a ceiling fan and four Dyson floor fans in our bedroom just so I could scrape together a few hours of sleep at night.

It was grueling, but we loved every minute of it. And by some silent agreement, we were careful about making too many plans for the baby once he or she arrived. We didn’t learn the gender, we didn’t pick out names, and we only had a crib back at home because Riddick had built one for us as a baby present.

It was stupid for two mature adults to believe it was possible to jinx it, but we’d lived through such trials and heartbreak for so long, we didn’t want to take any chances.

So, we didn’t have a name for the little earl that lay in my arms.

But as I peered down at his perfect, handsome little face, I thought of a name that was all too perfect for him.

“What about Aidon?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at the man who had burst into my life and dragged me through hell in order to give me a kingdom we could one day call our own. “AidesorAidoneusis one of the lesser-known names of Hades.”

Alexander’s beautiful, strong face melted into one of his rare open smiles as he chuckled. “Only my wife would want to name our child after the Greek god of the Underworld.”

“Only your wife would understand just how much the story of Hades and Persephone means to me, to us,” I countered. “Hades is a misunderstood god, but he maintained balance and harmony between good and evil. He was a fair and just ruler with great responsibility, just as our son will be one day.”

I looked down at our gift as he shifted his little furled hand into his mouth, and I knew in a newly discovered chamber of my heart where motherhood sat and pulsed that the little man on my chest was going to be one of the greatest men who ever lived.

“Aidon,” Alexander tested, his accent carving the name smooth and clean like sculpted marble. “Aidon Dante Joseph Davenport, seventh Earl of Thornton and heir to the Dukedom of Greythorn.” He ran his big hand gently over the baby’s head as if metaphorically crowning him with his titles. “Yes, I think Aidon will suit him just fine.”

“I love you,” I told him fiercely as the feeling brutalized my chest and made it difficult to breathe. “If I had to go back, I would choose to be your slave again and again. I don’t want our enslavement to each other to ever end.”

My husband leaned down to press his forehead to mine, one hand still cupping the back of Aidon’s soft head. I kept my eyes open, gaze sank deep in the perforated silver of his gorgeous eyes.