Page 21

“What precisely do you think you’re doing, wife?” Frederick called out as he strode into the garden and up to the vegetable patch, his arms crossed sternly over his chest.

Lily, who was on her knees in the dirt, turned to give him an incredulous look. “I’m picking turnips,” she replied, motioning toward the half-filled handbasket sitting beside her. “I should think that was rather obvious, husband .”

Frederick frowned, allowed himself a moment to admire his wife’s deliciously rounded bottom, then said, “In case you’ve forgotten, you are carrying our baby. You should be resting.”

“Oh, tosh.” She began to rise, and Frederick rushed forward to help her to her feet, which earned him another exasperated look from his wife. “I am not a delicate flower, Frederick, and I do wish you would cease treating me like one.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her dirt-stained hands in his. “You know I can’t help but worry about you.”

And despite all her protests, he would not be able to cease his worrying, not until the baby came. And probably not even then.

“I know.” An indulgent smile curled her lips, drawing his attention to a smudge of dirt on her left cheek.

“You had a spot of dirt exactly here the first day I met you,” he said, smiling at the memory as he used his thumb to wipe the soil away.

“I must have made a wonderful first impression,” she said wryly, rubbing her cheek with the sleeve of her gown.

“I thought you were beautiful. And I think you’re even more beautiful now.”

Lily rolled her eyes, though he noticed the smile still lingered on her lips, even as she said, “I’m as big as a house and I smell like turnips.”

Frederick wrapped his arms around her waist, the press of her growing belly filling him with pride and wonderment. He nuzzled her neck, breathing her in, then hummed his approval. “Turnips put wicked thoughts in my head.”

She laughed. “I don’t think that’s the turnips, you scoundrel.”

“You’re right. It’s you. Sweet, spicy”—he nibbled her earlobe gently with his teeth—“and thoroughly delicious.”

Lily shivered and looped her arms around his neck, drawing him in for a deep, lingering kiss.

“Do you know what day it is today?” Frederick asked a moment later, before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s Monday.”

He shook his head, and Lily drew back so she could frown up at him. “Yesterday was Sunday, Frederick, so today must be Monday.”

Smiling, he tucked a stray lock of ebony hair behind her ear and shook his head again. “Today is the eighteenth of October, my love. On this day, one year ago, you agreed to marry me.”

Lily had insisted on a three-month betrothal, but with patience, diligence and ardent wooing, Frederick had whittled away at her resistance until finally, on day seventy-four, nearly one week after Christmas, they stood before their friends and family in the parish church and promised to honor and love each other until death do they part.

All of Frederick’s family had attended—his mother, his three siblings and their spouses, and every single one of his nieces and nephews. All thirteen of them.

Another nephew had joined the family since, but at the time of the wedding, Rose was round and glowing, and father-to-be Stephen never left her side. Their little boy was born in the spring, and his parents promised he would make his first trip to the inn very soon.

“One year ago,” Lily said softly, her turquoise eyes taking on a dreamy glow. “In Richardson’s field. The same field where you later made love to me for the very first time.”

An interesting mix of fondness and lust shot through Frederick at the memory of that day. “I thought we might commemorate both occasions with a reproduction.” He ran his hands up and down her back. “What do you think?”

“We can’t,” she said, the hitch in her voice belying the protest. “We’re having dinner at your sister’s house tonight.”

“Surely there will be time for both. And Penelope won’t mind if we’re a few minutes late.”

Lily huffed out an incredulous laugh. “That is lust addling your brain. Your sister will mind very much if we are late.”

“Well, I won’t mind if she minds,” Frederick said, his jaw beginning to set with stubborn tenacity.

“Only five minutes ago you said you wanted me to rest,” she countered, brows arched.

“And I do.” He tugged her closer, his hands skimming her hips. “I’m perfectly happy to do all the work.”

She shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “You are a terrible influence on me.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Have I ever told you no? ”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he said, battling a grin and losing.

Lily swatted his arm, fighting a smile of her own, and Frederick swooped down to give his wife’s irresistible lips a long, thorough kiss.

“Frederick!”

Gran’s voice shot through the garden like a missile, startling them both.

“If you can tear yourself away from my granddaughter’s lips for a moment,” she said, “I require your assistance in the dining room, please.”

“I’ll be right there, Gran,” he called back, and Lily began to laugh, which made him laugh, as it always did.

“You had better do as she says,” she teased, “or you’ll be sent to your room without supper tonight.”

“Fortunately for me, my room is also your room.”

Still smiling, she gave his chest a gentle nudge toward the kitchen door. “Go on. And I’ll meet you in Richardson’s field in one hour.”

Frederick grinned. “I love you, Lily.”

“I know.”

“And do you love me?”

She pursed her lips, pretending to give the question some thought, and then she cupped his jaw with both hands.

“Yes,” his wife whispered. “Yes. Yes. Yes .”