Page 46 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

T he house was full of children, not that anyone seemed to mind, least of all Emrys. His own small fry were enjoying all the delights snow and ice could provide, with snowman building, snowball fights, sledding, and ice skating on the lake, all provided by mother nature.

His memories of Ewen’s fall into the lake in summer still vivid in his mind, he couldn’t help but be nervous of the ice cracking and dragging his precious offspring down to a frozen death.

But after he, the duke, the duke’s brothers, and Ravenshaw all thoroughly tested the ice, he was grudgingly brought to agree that it was safe enough for the children.

A pity Pendrell wasn’t there. If it could carry his weight, it could carry anything.

However, he was at his country house in Sussex, working on some new find uncovered by a land slip on the coast. Apparently, it was a pressing matter to record and recover the artifacts before wind and weather washed them out to sea.

Emrys ventured out with Annis, Ewen securely between them. Nothing and no one was going to stop him keeping hold of his son’s hand as he and Annis traversed the lake in lazy circles, while his girls and the Watsons skated past them at speed, shrieking and giggling when someone fell over.

Returned to the house and changed into dry clothes, the company assembled for Christmas Eve dinner before a roaring fire.

The children packed off upstairs for their own meal and bed, the adults settled in for a convivial evening.

Seated on the couch with his arm round Annis, Emrys reflected that happiness was an ephemeral thing, easily snatched away.

He watched Rob bending over Sarah with every appearance of loving concern as she placed a hand on her swollen belly.

She was six months along now. She smiled up at Rob, and he sat beside her as she placed his hand where hers had been.

The babe was kicking, Emrys guessed. He glanced down at Annis, talking to Deborah, Sarah’s sister, and knew a moment of longing to see her like that, swollen with his child.

She hadn’t caught yet, despite the amount of attention he’d lavished on her.

But then she wasn’t as young as Sarah, who was only twenty-three.

Annis was twenty-eight. He hoped it wasn’t too late for them to be blessed with a child, too.

It shouldn’t be—he knew of cases where women had children well into their forties.

And it had only been four months. Besides, even without more children, their life was full and happy.

He allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation with Hereward and Ruth, Sarah’s next sister after Deborah, on the best way to poultice a horse.

All the while though, he was conscious of Annis beside him, the warmth of her leg pressed against his, the comfort of her snugged under his arm.

The comfort she represented to him had not abated.

If anything, it had grown even stronger with the passage of time.

She was as essential to him as air and water.

After the tea tray, they retired to bed, checking on the children on their way. This was a nightly ritual unless he was away from home, in which case he did it by himself when he got in.

Standing by the girls’ bed, which they shared, with his arms still securely round Annis, he smiled at their angelic faces slightly flushed in sleep, curls escaping from their plaits.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded bending to straighten the coverlet and ensure they were snuggly warm. “So sweet,” she whispered, planting a soft kiss on each forehead. He did the same and Lizzie murmured something that he thought might be “’Night, Papa” without opening her eyes.

Finally arriving in their own room, they went through their usual routine of undressing, washing, teeth cleaning, in a companionable silence.

They had grown accustomed to each other’s habits by now and developed that comfortable way of being that made him realize even more starkly how different this was from his first marriage. With Annis it just felt right.

His limpet habits in his sleep hadn’t abated. He still woke wrapped round her like an octopus. Not that she seems to mind, but still... am I still insecure?

She had climbed into bed with a book, and he followed, sliding under the covers, bollock naked as always. She wore a nightgown in the cooler months, but he found wearing anything, even in winter, stifling.

“You want to read?” he said, nodding at the book.

“Depends,” she said with a smile. “I have a feeling you want to talk; you’ve been awfully quiet. Lots of thinking going on behind those eyes?” she asked, tapping his temple.

He smiled ruefully. “How do you do it? You always know.”

She shrugged. put the book aside, and settled back against the pillows, holding out a hand to take one of his. “Tell me.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure I can articulate it very well.”

She smiled encouragingly.

“Come here,” he said roughly. “I think better when you’re in my arms.”

She came willingly, resting her head on his chest, her legs tangling with his. “You’re sounding quite growly, my love,” she said.

“Am I?” he said getting comfortable with his arms round her.

“Hm,” she murmured. “So, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing, really. In fact I’m really happy. That’s rather the problem.”

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

He snorted. “I suppose.”

She nodded, tracing a finger in his chest hairs, which he liked. His cock stirred a bit. “I know the feeling,” she said. “I feel the same way. I am so happy, but I keep expecting it to get snatched away.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly!” he said, hugging her tight. “I get this desperate feeling sometimes and want to hang onto you, as if you’re the only thing that’s stopping me from drowning. It’s not healthy, but I can’t seem to help it.”

“I like it,” she confessed. “Makes me feel you need me.”

“I do,” he said husky voiced, nuzzling her hair. “You are happy?”

“Deliriously. Didn’t I just say so?” She looked up at him.

“But if you weren’t, you’d tell me?” he asked, his anxiety breaking through.

Her face softened, and she cupped his face with her hand. “Of course. I wouldn’t pull the rug out from under you like Caro did.”

He let out a breath and sighed. “You always understand. Better than I ever do. You’re so clever , Annis. God, I love you!”

He kissed her and a bit later he said, “I think your growly husband wants to fuck you.”

“Yes, please,” she said, pressing closer and rubbing against his thigh.

Which made him groan and peel off her nightgown, throwing it over the side of the bed, and nuzzle into her breasts for a feast. “Delicious,” he murmured round a mouthful of nipple and breast. With his hands all over her, he nudged her legs apart and nestled his cock against her lips rubbing slowly up and down.

She gasped, her hips jerking under him. “Emrys!”

“Good?” he growled against her throat, cupping and squeezing her breasts.

“Yes!”

“Hm.” He grunted, adjusting his cock to slide down and engage her body.

With a neat thrust of his hips, he joined them and began a steady drive to completion.

She kept pace with him every step, her eyes glued to his.

He pressed his palms to hers beside her head and kept driving into her.

It felt good. It always felt good, but there was an element of total openness in her gaze tonight, as if she was giving him not only her body, but her soul.

He made a noise in his throat that came from his gut.

“I’m yours, Annis,” he breathed. “All yours.” His body surged, the pleasure rising with each stroke.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly as the pleasure peaked, and he lost control of his body.

He felt her body tighten on him as she groaned.

The orgasm flowed between them like two streams mingling, his seed loosed in a flood of heat, pulses of pleasure swamping his senses.

“Annis,” his voice croaked in the middle as his body gave up the last of its seed, and he collapsed on her, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. Her arms held him, her legs tucked over the back of his, as he drifted in a haze of pleasure and connection.

Whatever just happened, he didn’t want it to stop.

Finally, he lifted his head and said, “There are no words for that.”

She stroked his face and nodded. “I love you,” she said and kissed his nose.

He laughed, and a lightness filled him. Separating them gently, he flopped onto his side and drew her close.

“I love you Annis Benedicta Fitzgerald. Never leave me.”

“I won’t,” she murmured against his chest.

“I think I believe you,” he said with gentle smile over the top of her head. He closed his eyes, holding his wife close and slept, secure in the knowledge she would still be there in the morning.