Page 88 of The Spy Who Loved Her

Rafe walked once more through the door, Danny’s hand held in his, little Kitty swaddled and cradled in the curve of his arm.

Ruth’s hands drifted to her face on a smothered little exclamation. “Oh, Dannyboy,” she said. “Jus’ look at ye—ye look like a little gentleman.”

“I got a bath,” he groused, slanting a look up at Rafe that promised eventual retribution.

And a haircut, and a clean set of clothing. There hadn’t been time to assemble a new wardrobe for him just yet, but there soon would be.

“And here’s Kitty,” Rafe said to Ruth. “Would you like to hold her?”

“If—if ye don’t mind,” Ruth said, though her arms were already reaching for the baby. Danny settled onto the couch at her other side, and together they marveled at the baby. And that was right, Emma thought. There was no such thing as too much love. It wasn’t a resource to be hoarded, but a blessing to be shared.

Ruth would be one of the ones to come back. She was certain of it.

And when at last Ruth passed little Kitty back into Emma’s arms, she had recovered herself from the last of her nerves. “Ye mind yer manners,” she said softly, ruffling Danny’s hair. “And look out for the little ‘un, hm?”

“I will,” he said solemnly. “It’s all right, then?” he asked. “If we stay? Me an’ Kitty?”

“I think you’d better,” Ruth said, clasping his hand in her own. “She’ll love ye like ‘er own. She an’ that ‘usband she’s got, too.”

Husband. She did have one of those, now. “Speaking of,” Emma said, “we are terribly late for our own wedding dinner. Perhaps you’d like to stay, Ruth, and join us?”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Ruth’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “What would they make o’ me, yer fancy guests?”

“Family, probably,” Rafe said on a chuckle, his hand falling upon Emma’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “We’ve got room, haven’t we? And even if we didn’t, we’d make it.”

It pleased her, that swift assurance. He had only ever wanted her happiness, and now—now they would share it. There would be more children through the years that stretched before her, more family, more love. And none of it would have been possible without this man who stood now at her side, offering more still.

“Yes,” she said, gazing up at him, and it was more than just mere agreement. It was an acknowledgement of everything they would share between them far into the future. Every joy, every sorrow, each and every precious moment that would come—yesto all of them. Without reservation, without so much as an ounce of hesitation. “Yes,” she said again. “Let’s go, then, all of us. Together.”

To celebrate the long-awaited happiness that had found them at last.