Page 55 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)
As soon as Mrs. Gilroy returned, he spread out a few sheets of newspaper and opened the case.
A small pup dashed out and ran straight into Carrie’s waiting arms.
Good heavens. The dog was a younger, even fluffier version of Heathy.
“In case ye’re wondering, Heathy is the pup’s sire,” Logan said with a chuckle.
Belle could not take her eyes off the precious puppy. “Why, that little dickens.”
Amelia looked a bit guilty. “I wanted to tell you. But Jon made me promise to keep it a surprise.”
“And a marvelous surprise it is.” Belle’s heart swelled as Carrie cuddled the tiny pup. “By the way, where is Heathy?”
“He’s home with our housekeeper,” Amelia explained. “At his age, he’s not fond of traveling.”
“The furry mop on legs is getting a bit creaky in the joints,” Logan said matter-of-factly.
“Believe me, I understand,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “These old bones can be contrary at times.”
“We’ll have to be careful to keep the pup from getting underfoot,” Belle said. “We wouldn’t want to repeat what happened with Heathy.”
“Ah, it was not such a bad thing.” The old woman lifted her gaze to Belle. A cheeky little grin played on her mouth. “Truth be told, I might’ve put that mishap to good use.”
Belle hiked a brow. “What are you saying?”
Her smile broadened. “Well, to tell ye the truth, I may have played it up... just a bit.”
Jon’s brow furrowed. “What’s this about?”
“It’s simple, really,” Mrs. Gilroy said.
“When Heathy got underfoot that day, I did twist my bad knee. But as ye know, the other one’s not much better.
I’ve had twinges in my joints for years now.
” She turned to Belle. “When I saw how the wee lass brightened up after ye came to stay, I didn’t want ye to leave. ”
Belle bit back a grin. “Mrs. Gilroy, you scamp.”
The old woman met her gaze with kind eyes. “As it turns out, my achy bones were a bit of a blessing, now, weren’t they?”
With a smile, Belle caught the woman’s work-worn hands in hers. “I would most definitely have to agree.”
Carrie brought her puppy over. “Mama, what shall we name him?”
“We’ll need to ponder that a bit,” Belle said.
Logan chuckled. “I’d suggest Mop-on-legs, but Amelia would poke me in the ribs.”
Jon scratched his chin, appearing deep in thought. “Carrie, I have an idea.”
“What, Papa?”
“He looks like his father, doesn’t he?”
When Carrie nodded, he went on. “I suspect he will act like his father as well. So, why don’t we call him Rascal?”
“Rascal,” Carrie repeated. She beamed at the name. “I love it. So now, I have my Rascal.”
Logan chuckled. “If he’s anything like that like the little ball of fur he’s descended from, ye can consider it a fitting name, indeed.”
“Well, Jon, since you’ve already presented your surprise, I have one for you as well,” Belle said. “Though it’s not nearly so special.”
“A surprise, eh?” Jon sat in a wing chair and stretched out his long legs. “And it’s not even Christmas yet.”
“Not quite. But you’ll enjoy this.” She nibbled her lip. “I presume you recall our not-quite-friendly wager.”
“I do,” he said. “Obviously, you won the bet quite handily.”
“I did,” she said. “But I wanted to clear up one point.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “And what might that be, my love?”
“You doubted my ability to bake a pie.”
“I did.” He shrugged. “I suppose I still do.”
“Is that so, my darling husband?” She sent him a cheeky grin, then went into the kitchen and brought back a covered silver plate. “Perhaps you might want to think again.”
Uncovering the plate, she showed off a perfectly baked apple pie.
Jon leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “Am I to believe that you—a woman who had never peeled an apple, let alone baked one—made something that looks and smells as delicious as that?”
She nibbled her lip. “I didn’t know how when I made that wager.”
“But she learns fast,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “Ye were an eager student.”
“And you, Mrs. Gilroy, are an excellent teacher.”
Jon came to her, cupped his hand to her chin, and looked into her eyes. “Ah, my Arabelle. As always, you amaze me.”
And then, as always, he kissed her.
*
Following a bustling day filled with winter festivities, conversation, and delicious food, Belle joined her husband in their bedchamber.
Relaxing on the settee near the warmth of the hearth, she sipped chamomile tea while Jon enjoyed fine Scotch.
Carrie had been happily tucked into bed, eager to awaken with the dawn to discover what Santa had left in her stocking, while the adults had retired to their respective bedchambers.
The day had been one of joy and togetherness and celebration, but as the clock approached midnight, Belle welcomed the quiet, the warmth, and the prospect of a night spent in Jon’s arms.
Gazing at her husband, she battled a sudden whisper of nerves. For days, she’d been harboring an inkling that something she’d always dreamed of was on the horizon, and now, she had good reason to fully trust her instincts.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jon said, lightly draping an arm around her. “You seemed preoccupied at dinner. Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong?” She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, really.”
“Belle, what is going on?” He kissed her lightly, grazing his lips over the curve of her cheek. “Will I find another surprise under the tree?”
“Well, darling, I do have another surprise,” she murmured, keeping her tone light and teasing. “But you will not find it under the tree.”
He looked rather puzzled. “It’s in here, then?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said with a cheeky little smile. “When you brought Carrie her puppy, you said there was one thing we needed to make this family complete.” She took another sip of tea, if only to prolong his suspense. “Darling, there is one more thing that will add to our family.”
He stared at her for a long moment. He downed a drink of Scotch and set the tumbler on the table.
“Are you telling me... what I think you’re telling me?”
She nodded. “I do believe I am.”
“Good God, Belle,” he murmured as he searched her eyes. “A baby.”
She nodded again. “I wanted to wait until I was certain before I told you.”
“When?” The word tumbled out of his mouth.
“In the summer, darling.”
He looked like he wanted to shout the news from the street, but instead, he became very quiet. “By thunder, I don’t have the words.”
She sat up straighter. “Perhaps you might start by telling me you are happy about this rather significant development.”
“Happy?” He slowly shook his head. “My love, happy is in no way adequate to express my feelings.”
His arms slipped around her, and he drew her close.
With one hand, he tipped up her chin. Looking into his eyes, Belle felt as if she were lost in his gaze.
My, the man she’d wed—the man she loved with all her heart—was handsome.
As long as she lived, she’d never tire of looking into those intelligent dark brown eyes.
Relaxing against his warm, strong body, she heard herself sigh, drawn into a sense of bliss that enveloped her.
“Belle, you’re so beautiful.” He searched her face, as if she were a lost treasure he’d found. “How bloody amazing that you’re mine. And now, we’re going to have a baby.”
Belle blinked back tears of joy. “Carrie will be delighted to have a little brother,” she said. “Or a little sister.”
“I don’t know how I got so bloody lucky,” he whispered against her ear. “A beautiful wife I’ll cherish until the day I die, and beyond. A beautiful daughter who calls me Papa. And now, a little boy or a little girl who will lay claim to my heart, just as you and Carrie have.”
How she adored this man. And she knew she would until she took her last breath.
“I love you, Jon,” she murmured, drawing in the spicy scent of his shaving soap. “I’ll always be yours.”
“Oh, my Arabelle,” he said. “I love you more than any words can say. And I always will.”
“Then show me,” she teased.
He framed her face in his hands, seeming to drink her in. “An excellent idea, my darling wife.”
And then, he kissed her. Tender. Searing. Hungry with need. His kiss spoke of passion and promises and true devotion—a kiss of love that would nurture their future, a love that would endure and grow ever deeper.
True love.
The essence of their unbreakable bond filled every touch, every caress. Belle whispered words of love against his lips as pure joy washed over her.
She was his. And he was hers.
Forever.
THE END