the wooing and I regret that I never courted you properly. I regret that I haven’t yet met your sisters and your nieces and nephews. I regret I didn’t allow you a proper wedding. But I would have married you regardless. Eventually. I love you and my heart knew yours from the moment we met on the street. Fate would have brought us together. I’m certain of it.”
Although her mouth was dry and cracked, she couldn’t help but smile at his words.
“I am not sorry that you are mine now, though,” he continued with force. “I know you didn’t marry thinking to put up with me for a lifetime. You had hoped to become an independent woman, but I have decided I’m not going to believe in death. I’m going to believe in life—and in love. After all my foolishness before, this likely sounds like nonsense to you… but everything has changed inside of me… and you see, please forgive me, Lillian, but I have fallen—”
“I love you.” She forced her hand up to cover his, where he cradled her cheek. “I love you,” she said again.
“I love you.” He stared back at her, almost as though in awe.
And then both of them laughed a little. It was madness, really, how quickly such feelings had roared to life. Were they planted during that first meeting? Or during the second one when he entered the room where she waited to be interviewed, his hair askew, his eyes squinting? Or had it been later, after their wedding?
She didn’t know. She was certain, however, that she loved him more than life itself.
“You will not leave me?” She had to ask. She had to be certain. “Or send me away?”
He pressed his lips against the corner of hers. “I will not.” His voice came out sounding hoarse. “You are not going to be upset with me for living?”
She closed her eyes but felt her smile go wider. “I will not.”
“I’ll remind you of that in fifty or so years,” His laughter comforted her as the drowsiness became too strong to fight any longer. “When I’m hogging all the blankets, or my snoring is keeping you awake…
“Promise?” She whispered.
“Most assuredly,” he whispered back.
Epilogue
Exactly thirty-six weeks later, he paced along the corridor outside of their bedchamber at their country estate, listening to intermittent screams, each worse than the one before, and each taking at least a year off of his life.
“You are certain this is normal?”
Lillian’s stepbrother, the Duke of Crawford, as well as the Earl of Kingsley, with both of whom Christian had become well acquainted over the past several months, walked the long corridor with him. Crawford’s wife, Louella; her sister and Kingsley’s wife, Olivia; and Lillian’s mother were all inside the birthing room with Lillian, assisting the midwife.
Christian clenched his fists, feeling helpless.
“Nothing about childbirth is normal, if you ask me,” Crawford answered, providing no reassurance whatsoever. As they passed one another, Crawford handed him the half-empty bottle of scotch he’d brought to Winter’s Edge specifically for this occasion.
Kingsley stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. “I’m coming to think that perhaps women are much stronger than men.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “And perhaps smarter too.”
Crawford shot him a scowl but, Christian vaguely noted, didn’t contradict either statement.
Christian poured a long swallow down his throat and, hearing another cry from the room, ran a hand through his hair. “She sounds as though she’s being tortured.”
“Don’t think you won’t hear about it afterward.” Crawford sent him a twisted smile. “Louella reminds me every time we argue.”
And yet, Christian had seen obvious signs of affection pass between the duke and his wife. The duchess had birthed Crawford’s heir, but in addition to that, the couple had adopted four orphans within a few months of their marriage.
Another harrowing sound echoed from inside the room and Christian stopped his incessant pacing to stare longingly at the door.
“I can’t not go to her. How did you endure it?”
“Forced my way inside and refused to be ejected. I, however, don’t get squeamish when I see blood.”
Christian faced the door again. “Why the hell am I out here then?” He moved forward and grasped the latch. Before he could step inside, though, he was met with a chorus of angry female voices. “Out!”
Christian closed his eyes and retreated, though he left the door partially open, needing to hear her voice. “Lillian? Love? I would be at your side. May I?” He had not heard her voice amongst the firm