The Bridgertons Happily Ever After - By Julia Quinn Page 0,1
just a calendar. There was no big red X, followed by the notation, “Bled this day.”
Her husband strode into the room. “Oh good, there you are. Amelia has been looking for you.”
“For me?”
“If there is a merciful God, she is not looking for me,” Simon returned.
“Oh, dear,” Daphne murmured. Normally she’d have a more quick-witted response, but her mind was still in the possibly-pregnant-possibly-growing-very-old fog.
“Something about a dress.”
“The pink one or the green one?”
Simon stared at her. “Really?”
“No, of course you wouldn’t know,” she said distractedly.
He pressed his fingers to his temples and sank into a nearby chair. “When will she be married?”
“Not until she’s engaged.”
“And when will that be?”
Daphne smiled. “She had five proposals last year. You were the one who insisted that she hold out for a love match.”
“I did not hear you disagreeing.”
“I did not disagree.”
He sighed. “How is it we have managed to have three girls out in society at the same time?”
“Procreative industriousness at the outset of our marriage,” Daphne answered pertly, then remembered the calendar on her desk. The one with the red X that no one could see but her.
“Industriousness, hmmm?” He glanced over at the open door. “An interesting choice of words.”
She took one look at his expression and felt herself turn pink. “Simon, it’s the middle of the day!”
His lips slid into a slow grin. “I don’t recall that stopping us when we were at the height of our industriousness.”
“If the girls come upstairs . . .”
He bound to his feet. “I’ll lock the door.”
“Oh, good heavens, they’ll know.”
He gave the lock a decisive click and turned back to her with an arched brow. “And whose fault is that?”
Daphne drew back. Just a tiny bit. “There is no way I am sending any of my daughters into marriage as hopelessly ignorant as I was.”
“Charmingly ignorant,” he murmured, crossing the room to take her hand.
She allowed him to tug her to her feet. “You didn’t think it was so charming when I assumed you were impotent.”
He winced. “Many things in life are more charming in retrospect.”
“Simon . . .”
He nuzzled her ear. “Daphne . . .”
His mouth moved along the line of her throat, and she felt herself melting. Twenty-one years of marriage and still . . .
“At least draw the curtains,” she murmured. Not that anyone could possibly see in with the sun shining so brightly, but she would feel more comfortable. They were in the middle of Mayfair, after all, with her entire circle of acquaintances quite possibly strolling outside the window.
He positively dashed over to the window but pulled shut only the sheer scrim. “I like to see you,” he said with a boyish smile.
And then, with remarkable speed and agility, he adjusted the situation so that he was seeing all of her, and she was on the bed, moaning softly as he kissed the inside of her knee.
“Oh, Simon,” she sighed. She knew exactly what he was going to do next. He’d move up, kissing and licking his way along her thigh.
And he did it so well.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmured.
“Right now?” she asked, trying to blink her way out of her daze. He had his tongue at the crease between her leg and her abdomen and he thought she could think?
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“If it’s not about me, I’m going to be terribly disappointed.”
He chuckled, moved his head so that he could drop a light kiss on her belly button, then scooted up to brush his lips softly against hers. “I was thinking how marvelous it is to know another person so completely.”
She reached out and hugged him. She couldn’t help it. She buried her face in the warm crook of his neck, inhaled the familiar scent of him, and said, “I love you.”
“I adore you.”
Oh, so he was going to make a competition of it, was he? She pulled away, just far enough to say, “I fancy you.”
He quirked a brow. “You fancy me?”
“It was the best I could summon on such short notice.” She gave a tiny shrug. “And besides, I do.”
“Very well.” His eyes darkened. “I worship you.”
Daphne’s lips parted. Her heart thumped, then flipped, and any facility she might have possessed for synonym retrieval flew right out of her. “I think you’ve won,” she said, her voice so husky she barely recognized it.
He kissed her again, long, hot, and achingly sweet. “Oh, I know I have.”
Her head fell back as he made his way back down to