Forming close ties with other like-minded women in London, she attended functions organized by the India Office, including events for visiting Indian dignitaries during the season. She had even started a charitable organization for those who had resettled in Britain and needed assistance. Her work kept her busy, but she loved every moment of it.
Rhystan still sailed, but only on occasion. The bulk of his fleet was managed by Gideon.
“A penny for your thoughts, Duchess?”
Sarani smiled at her husband. “Only a penny? My thoughts are worth at least a sovereign.”
“Is that so?” Rhystan scrunched up his nose. “Sounds rather dear to me. Just a month ago, they were half that.”
She turned in his arms and propped herself up on her elbows, chin to her hands. “Would you like me to explain how inflation works?”
Rhystan groaned. “I love it when you use big words.”
“You love it when I don’t use words at all.”
The sheet at his hips tented magnificently. “That’s true, too.”
Sarani laughed. Oh, she loved this man to distraction. And he worshipped her, body and soul.
After their wedding, the gossip rags had gotten tired of writing about how besotted the Duke of Embry was with his wife. They’d fixated on the duke’s younger sister, whose refusal to marry had become almost comically legendary. Rhystan had been at the end of his rope, but Sarani had convinced him to give her time. At nearly one and twenty, Ravenna was hardly on the shelf. She was simply particular about what she wanted. Like her brother.
Sarani dragged a fingernail down her husband’s damp chest. “So about those thoughts you were interested in…”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I still need to pay a pound?”
“It’s worth it, I promise.”
“Very well, you drive a hard bargain.”
She stuck out her tongue. “You didn’t even haggle, Your Grace. Haven’t I taught you anything? Haggling is ninety percent of the fun.”
Rhystan grinned and rolled them over so that he was braced above her. She gasped at the deliciously hard pressure between her thighs. Her blood went molten. She was wrung out and sore from his attentions overnight and again that morning, and suddenly, she wanted more.
With a wicked grin, he tilted his hips, making her whimper. “Three pounds, then.”
“I think you’re missing the point of haggling, my lord duke,” she said and wrapped her legs around him, pinning his hardness to her softness. Two could play at his game.
He groaned. “Five pounds!”
Sarani laughed as she tugged his head down to hers, slanting her mouth across his and nibbling on his full lower lip. “You are absurd.”
“Absurdly in love with you,” he said. “Now, tell me these thoughts of yours before I’m forced to increase my offer.”
“I’m with child.”
Rhystan stilled, his glowing eyes capturing hers. So many colors swam in them—blue, green, gray—much like the ocean lit by the sun with a storm in the distance. He didn’t say a word, but his mouth trembled slightly. Sarani pinned her lips, uncertainty suddenly blanketing her.
They’d talked about children, but with his work in Parliament and the scandal broth surrounding their unconventional, highly publicized marriage, they’d decided to wait. Rhystan had been careful and she’d timed her courses, but a handful of times a couple of months ago, they’d been so consumed by passion that no precautionary measures had been taken.
“Rhystan?”
“We’re going to have a baby?” he whispered.
“I know we didn’t plan on it, but does the thought please you?”
“Does it please me?” Her duke’s smile was slow and lit his eyes with love and joy as he slid down her body to place a kiss on her bare abdomen. He peered up at her, steel-blue gaze shining. “You undo me, Your Grace. I am delighted.” He kissed her skin again. “And you, little one, I cannot wait to meet you.”
Sarani felt a tear slip down her cheek, watching this powerful man place tender kisses on her belly, cherishing the tiny being they had created. Rhystan rubbed his cheek against her and then crept back up her body to gather her into his arms.
“I hope our child has your eyes,” she whispered. “And your huge heart.”
“If it’s a boy, he better get my huge heart!”
She chucked him in the shoulder, giggling at his awful innuendo. “You are a ridiculous man.”
“You adore me,” he said, kissing her again.
“Someone has to.”
He placed a sweet kiss on her lips and then peppered over the sun spots covering her nose. “I hope our child has your smile and your courage. And most of all, I hope they have beautiful skin like yours and freckles like these.”
Daily walks on the shore had turned her skin golden brown and made her spattering of freckles stand out. Sarani hadn’t cared—he loved her skin and her in it. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that any child of theirs, regardless of what they looked like, would be beloved as well.
“I love you, Rhystan.”
“It cannot possibly be as much as I love you, my duchess.” Blue-gray eyes full of joy and love held hers. “Thank you, my love.”
She stroked her fingers over his jaw. “For what?”
“For loving me. For choosing me.” He placed a hand on her heart and then the small curve of her stomach and pressed his forehead against hers. “For giving me everything a man could ever hope for.” He let out a choked breath. “And for saving me.”
“Saving you?”
He gave a solemn nod, his eyes so full of love that her throat went tight. “You did, even when I didn’t know I needed saving, you were there. You will forever be my port in the storm. My safe harbor. My home. Always.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
Rules for Heiresses
Coming October 2021 from Sourcebooks Casablanca
One
Lady Ravenna Huntley, unwed sister to the Duke of Embry, was in the biggest pickle of her life, and that was saying a lot, considering she’d been a fugitive on one of her brother’s ships across the Atlantic. Now, she was about to lose a substantial fortune playing vingt-et-un while disguised as a man…unless she did something she’d never considered before.
Unless she cheated.
This win was a matter of survival. She was almost out of money, barring her last pair of earbobs. Notwithstanding her previous exploits, her brother would have her hide if his precious sister ended up getting thrown into the stocks on an island in the British West Indies.