O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,112

her. “You feel too good. Perhaps I shall clear my schedule today and remain in bed to continually make love to my beautiful wife.”

“What of breakfast with the boys?”

He kissed her bare shoulder. “We breakfast with your students every morning. Surely, they could get along without us for a single meal.”

Ashlyn chuckled. “As much as they worry about me nowadays, they would probably storm into our bedchamber to see that I am well. It would most likely be Arthur and Harry leading the charge.”

He kissed her hair. “Those boys have changed, haven’t they? Mostly, thanks to you, though I do think having Rhys as their stepfather will be good for them.”

Dalinda, the boys’ mother and Reid’s stepmother, had wed Rhys Armistead, Earl of Sheffington, in August. She had confided to Ashlyn that she hoped she would have more children with her new husband. If so, Arthur and Harry would make for excellent big brothers.

“Oh!” she said, startled by the sudden, unexpected fluttering in her belly.

“What’s wrong?” her husband asked sharply, turning her to face him.

She smiled. “It is what I have been waiting for. The baby is moving. Gemma said it feels as if butterflies are gently flapping their wings inside you.”

He placed his hand alongside the swell of her belly and waited. “I don’t feel anything.” She heard the disappointment in his voice.

“Gemma says the fluttering grows stronger and that is when I—and you—will be able to feel the baby kick.”

He laced his fingers through hers. “This is truly happening, isn’t it? We are going to be parents.”

“Many times over, I hope.”

He kissed her, long and deep, and love flowed between them.

Breaking the kiss, he said, “We better ready ourselves for the day. I can’t have an army of boys invade our bedchamber in search of their headmistress.”

Half an hour later, they were at breakfast with the academy’s students. Ashlyn always had a penny placed beside each boy’s plate. One by one, she would call upon them, and they would toss their penny into a jar sitting in the middle of the table, sharing any thought they wished to with the others. Once each boy had spent his penny, the conversation opened to all. She thought it a good way to make sure every pupil had a chance to speak and be heard, sharing his feelings without judgment.

“Why don’t we have Thomas start us off this morning?” she said brightly. “A penny for your thoughts, Thomas.”

Thomas was new to Dunwood Academy this term and very shy. He had lost his mother the previous spring and had refused to go back to his previous school, frustrating his father. Viscount Dalworth had reached out to Reid, since they had mutual acquaintances, and begged for him and Ashlyn to accept Thomas as a pupil. Ashlyn had a poor impression of the viscount since Lord Dalworth hadn’t brought his own son to school, instead sending a footman to accompany him. The fact the viscount’s country estate was only an hour and half’s carriage ride from Gillingham seemed to make it even worse.

Though withdrawn at first, she had seen the twelve-year-old slowly emerging from his cocoon, thanks in part to Edward Pickens. Edward was a scholarship student, the son of a local farmer, and quite brilliant. One side of his face was marred by a port-wine stain, commonly referred to as a firemark, but Edward hadn’t let that physical blemish affect his love of learning. He excelled at mathematics and music and was one of the most courteous students Ashlyn had. The boy could put anyone at ease and she had seen how Edward had taken Thomas under his wing. The two boys were inseparable now and Thomas’ confidence had grown as the boys’ friendship had.

He reached for the penny next to his plate and tossed it toward the jar. It hit the lip and then skittered away, falling to the table. No penalty was assessed if a coin didn’t fall through, though an extra biscuit was awarded at afternoon tea to those who did meet the mark on the first try. Peter, a freckle-faced lad with ginger hair reached for the coin and rolled it down the table toward Thomas.

“Try again,” he urged. “You hit the jar. It just fell the wrong way.”

Warmth filled Ashlyn at Peter’s encouragement of Thomas. The boy frowned slightly in concentration and tossed the coin again. This time it sailed through the opening, landing in the center of the jar and clanging as it fell to the bottom