The Duke is Wicked (League of Lords #3) - Tracy Sumner Page 0,55
“He kicked.”
Finn stilled, his fingers trembling when he placed them over hers. “Or her.”
Victoria giggled again, delighted to the tips of her toes. “I can’t wait. Another month, and we’ll be parents. I’m deliriously excited to meet the little tot.”
Finn dropped his brow to her shoulder. “I’m terrified, Tori.”
Victoria took his face between her hands and brought his famous gaze to hers. “You’re the gentlest man I know. Generous and kind. You’ll be a brilliant father. Trust me on this. Look at how much Julian’s children love you.”
He swallowed, his cheeks blanching. “What if he reads minds? Or she has your gift and blocks us all? What if these curses continue into the next generation? What if I don’t know how to be a father? Except for Julian and Humphrey, I never really had one.”
Victoria considered this for a moment, finally deciding none of it mattered with the enormous love they held for each other. “Julian and Delaney are starting to research inheritance in the historical texts. Maybe you and I should be a part of this project now that we’re having our own family.”
“Family,” Finn murmured in disbelief. His hand was warm on her belly, curving around her, possessive, protective, adoring. He would make a doting father, as he was a doting husband.
“If we find we need to give Sebastian a push…”
He laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I knew my girl was in there somewhere, plotting away. Good old-fashioned meddling, nothing supernatural about it.”
Only if necessary, Victoria decided, only if necessary.
Chapter 11
A flash of emerald caught Sebastian’s eye through the library window. Delaney’s gown, as lush as the lawn she stood upon. He could just make out the archery range if he squinted and leaned to the left. She rarely wore vivid colors, and he’d almost remarked on her choice when he’d bumped into her leaving the breakfast room, but she’d swept past him with a closed expression and a vacant hand gesture he wasn’t sure how to interpret.
Now, she stood, mere yards from his window, feet braced, bow slung over her shoulder, her skirt whipping in the wind. The gift he’d impulsively given her, then wished he could sneak into her bedchamber and take back, dashing in circles around her legs, a tether of some sort tied about the puppy’s neck and trailing behind him. The day was somber, stormy, the clouds backing her near the color of her eyes. Intrigued, he watched her tilt her arrow in someone’s direction, a playful joust. Followed by a teasing smile he could easily make out even at this distance.
Then, the man stepped into view.
Sebastian tapped his knife against the windowpane, one hard rap. “Who is that with Miss Temple?”
Finn stepped beside him, nudged the drape back with his teacup. “Where?”
“Archery range.”
Leaning until his nose nearly struck the glass, Finn groaned. “Gads, is there any sport that woman won’t try to best a man at?”
Sebastian snorted and fingered his blade, razor-sharp, as he’d just gotten it back from the knife grinder who traveled the area once a month. “Not that I’ve found.”
“Must be the result of growing up with a male twin and having absolutely no one tell you no. Ever. Plus, the American thing. And the brilliant mind. Thinks she’s the smartest person in the parlor, and probably is.”
Sebastian rocked back on his heels, refusing to comment. Not when Finn wanted him to so badly, they could both taste it.
They watched Delaney loose an arrow, her form elegant, steady, bold. Desire stirred in his belly, his thighs, his cock. He could lie to everyone about how much he wanted her. But he couldn’t lie to himself.
“Ah, I see him. That’s Sir Kinkaid. Reginald. New member of the League. Awarded a knighthood last year, diplomatic work of some sort. Most Distinguished Order, I think it was. Victoria hands those out like sweetmeats. Has an uncanny talent for forgery, probably why he made such a stellar diplomat. Sees writing like a photograph in mind, he says, maybe a bit like your girl’s attic. Came in from London to work with me on letters I’ve received from a contact in Italy.”
Sebastian popped the knife against the windowpane. “She’s not my anything.”
Finn pulled his top lip between his teeth to hide his smile and glanced at the weapon in Sebastian’s hand, the thumb he carefully traced along the blade. “Thinking of using that on anyone in particular? The affable knight out there chatting with Miss Temple, perhaps?”
“Is there a point to this interrogation, Alexander?”