Page 33 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

A week before Christmas

‘You have a beautiful baby girl, Mr Caras.’ The nurse beamed at Xander as she handed him the precious bundle, the mewling cries coming from it full of indignation.

His arms trembled as he held the tiny, squirming baby.

The woman left the room, leaving him alone with his family at last. His daughter’s red face screwed up into a ball of anger as she yelled out her frustration at having been thrust into the world a week ahead of schedule.

Her dark hair was plastered to her head and her tiny little fingers were clenched into fists so small they were barely the size of his thumb.

He had never seen anything more incredible in his entire life.

Tears stung the backs of his eyes, and the rush of love was so intense it felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and ripped out his heart.

She was his now…just like her mother.

‘What do you think, Daddy?’

His head rose, speech deserting him as he gazed at the woman he loved more than life itself. Her sweaty hair clung to her cheeks, her tired eyes were sheened with emotion and exhaustion, the new nightgown the nurse had helped her into drooped where the monitor was still stuck to her chest.

She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, trying to find the words to tell her how he felt.

They had made a promise to each other in that cold damp cottage in Kent, that they would always try to be honest about their feelings.

A promise he had not been sure at the time he would ever be able to keep.

But, astonishingly, she had made it easy for him to discuss his emotions over the days and weeks that followed, while they settled into their future together.

Because there was no judgment, no demand, only acceptance and love.

They still argued, quite frequently, because neither of them had a lot of experience with the fine art of compromise, but they had managed to make a life for themselves.

In Athens and Kent—where he had bought a house close to her mother’s cottage—and also here on Parádeisos, where they had settled for the last month to await the baby’s birth.

Of course, they still had to fully discuss the issue of Poppy’s future employment. But luckily, he’d had a reprieve on that decision after she’d finally agreed to marry him and had been busy dealing with the challenges of preparing for the baby’s arrival and hosting their wedding on Parádeisos.

But right now, with his child in his arms for the first time, he was lost for words again.

Poppy had been so brave, so strong, so dogged and determined, while he had been scared to death, watching her labour through eight hours of agony to bring their daughter into the world. It humbled him. He had always considered himself tough. How wrong could he be?

‘She is perfect…’ he managed at last, his voice as rough as the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

How did other men stand it? Watching the woman they loved go through such pain?

He stared down at his daughter, who had stopped squirming and crying after having discovered one of her fists and thrusting it into her mouth. ‘But so tiny…’ he added, the awe choking him again.

‘Easy for you to say.’ Poppy laughed, the musical sound he adored helping to calm his own rampaging heartbeat. Just a little.

His daughter began to cry again, having dislodged her fist.

Pushing up in the bed, Poppy lifted tired arms. ‘Here, I should try to feed her again. The obstetrician said she would be hungry and it’ll probably take several attempts.’

He watched as his wife bared her breast, and tamped down on the familiar spike of arousal. It wasn’t hard to control it, when he recalled the dark hours before dawn, as he had stroked Poppy’s forehead and she had panted through the waves of agony.

He shifted his daughter, holding the baby’s head the way the nurse had shown him, then placed her gently in his wife’s arms.

Pinching the plump nipple, Poppy pressed it against the baby’s open mouth. The mewling cries stopped instantly, as his daughter’s head swung round and her lips clamped the rouged flesh.

‘Ouch!’ Poppy flinched as the baby latched on, sucking ferociously. No wonder—his daughter was tugging on her mother’s nipple as if she were starving to death.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, concerned.

She shook her head. ‘Not compared to everything else.’

He wasn’t particularly reassured by that assessment, but then Poppy’s head rose and she smiled at him over the baby.

‘Isn’t she amazing? I think she’s cracked it already,’ she said, the pleasure in her voice helping him to relax.

‘Of course…’ He beamed back at her, the pride in his chest almost as overwhelming as the love. ‘She is a Caras.’

Poppy chuckled again, stroking her daughter’s cheek. ‘She’s also a Brown.’

‘True,’ he said, smiling with her. She never let him get away with anything, but he had learned to love that too. How had he ever survived without her there to make him realise he could not control everything? The good news was, he didn’t feel the need to any more.

Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on his daughter’s tiny head, breathing in the scent of soap and milk, then transferred his lips to his wife.

The kiss was tender and achingly sweet, a celebration of their daughter’s birth, but he was forced to wrench his mouth away before the heat in his groin rebelled again.

There would be no reigniting their sex life until Poppy was fully recovered from the birth, and he had recovered from the trauma of watching it… Which would no doubt take several decades.

Poppy smiled, aware of her husband’s flushed skin and the flare of passion in his eyes, which was almost as compelling as the deep well of love.

‘Do not tempt me, Poppy. It isn’t fair,’ he said, the quelling tone delighting her even more.

The last thing on her mind right now was sex. She was sore and exhausted, and her nipple hurt where her daughter seemed to be attempting to swallow it whole. But that dark intense expression on his face would always be its own reward.

‘Frankly I think you deserve to suffer a little, Caras,’ she shot back. ‘After what you’ve just put me through.’

He laughed, as she’d known he would, his gaze warm with approval. ‘Touché.’

He settled onto the bed beside her, and placed his arm gently around her shoulder, to draw her and the baby against his side. ‘We must decide on her first name now, too,’ he said.

‘I know.’ It was the one thing they hadn’t been able to agree on, despite their endless discussions—which some people might refer to as arguments—on the topic.

‘I vote for Ariana…’ she said. ‘Or Penelope.’

He nodded, but then pressed his lips to her hair and murmured, ‘What was your mother’s name, Poppy?’

She glanced round at him, surprised by the question. The one thing they had agreed on was that their baby’s name would be Greek, because Xander seemed much more attached to his heritage than she was.

‘Gemma,’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘I like this name very much,’ he said.

‘Really?’ she asked, tears forming in her eyes. It hadn’t even occurred to her to give the baby her mum’s name, but it suddenly seemed so perfect now he’d suggested it.

‘Of course,’ he said, gently wiping away the tear on her cheek with his thumb. ‘Our daughter should be named after a strong woman, like her mother.’

She nodded. ‘I agree,’ she said, the happy tears sliding down her cheeks now.

He kissed her again, just as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

‘Take it,’ she said, sniffing back the emotion in her throat. ‘It might be your brother.’ And she needed a few minutes to get a grip and stop crying happy tears all over her daughter.

Xander nodded and got off the bed to take the call. He had been trying to contact Theo for half an hour, eager to tell him he had just become an uncle.

But when he stared at the screen, his brow furrowed.

‘What is it?’ she asked. She knew that frown, it was his confused and concerned look.

‘It is a private message from Prince Andreas,’ he said, his voice tense.

‘The Galician monarch?’ she asked, confused too now. ‘Why would he be messaging you?’

Theo had taken control of the cruise business, and the negotiations for the land in Galicos, months ago. And she knew Xander hadn’t spoken to the Prince since he’d called off his engagement with the man’s daughter way back in September.

Xander’s gaze rose to hers, his blue eyes blank with shock. ‘He seems to believe my brother has just kidnapped his daughter!’