“Martha?”
Fear, shame, and defiance lurked in his beautiful dark eyes. “I want you to know that I went to the duke last night and told him no. It is who I was, not who I am.”
His words rendered her boneless with relief. She sagged against his body and pressed her face into the hardness of his chest, kissing his silky, hot skin and nuzzling him until her lips brushed against a small, hard nipple and he jerked.
“Mmmm.” She fastened her mouth over the little bud and sucked.
Hugo shivered. “Martha,” he warned.
She reluctantly detached herself from his delicious body and looked up at him. “I had hoped that was what you would do, Hugo. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you, Martha. I did it for us. You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me. And just like you, the vow I took means something to me.” His arm tightened. “I will be faithful to you until I die, Martha—even if it means I have to go hat in hand to Melissa’s bloody husband and beg him for a job wrangling orphaned French brats.” He kissed her and then held her gaze. “But there is nothing I can do about all the years behind me.”
“I know that, Hugo.” Martha swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not going to lie and claim that learning the truth about your past won’t take time to understand and adjust to, but I love you and nothing will change my mind about that.” She opened her mouth, but hesitated.
“What is it, darling?”
“You really mean it? I mean about the orphanage?”
He traced her lower lip with his thumb, his eyelids heavy. “Yes. I’m very serious about finding another way to make money. I’ll dig ditches before I sell myself again.” His mouth quirked into a smile. “My body now belongs only to you.”
Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly.
“Please don’t cry,” he begged.
She gave a gurgle of a laugh. “I’m just so happy.” She shoved her face into his chest again and sniffled.
Hugo stroked her shoulder and held her close. “Tell me the rest of your story, Martha.”
“There’s not much else,” she said, her voice watery. “Laura had heard Cowan complaining that his half-brother—Elis, I think his name is—had impressed their father by bringing guns from France to sell to some group here. We all agreed that was something the government should know. Gibson and I both argued to arrest them all beforehand, but it was the duke who wanted to catch Davies in the act, so to speak.”
Hugo snorted. “Ah, the dramatic approach.”
“Hugo?”
“Hmmm?”
“Will you try to get Solange’s back?”
“No. That’s over. Cowan was right about it taking years and lots of money. It would make for a miserable life.” He sighed. “I’m not happy about it, Martha—it took years to earn enough to purchase my half and I poured even more money into the place during the three years I was co-owner. It … pains me to let it go. But it pains me even more to have you associated with such a place.”
Martha hesitated, and then said, “Thank you, Hugo. I shouldn’t care to think of you continuing to work in such a place, either. I don’t believe it comes without cost.” She smiled. “And I don’t think it would be good for our child, either.”
◆◆◆
Hugo blinked. “I’m sorry, darling—did you say our child?”
She nodded, her soft hair tickling his chin.
Hugo straddled her blanket-covered body and grabbed her shoulders. “Our child?”
“I know you said you didn’t want children, but—”
“Our child?”
She laughed. “You’re doing it again—sounding like a demented parrot.”
Hugo crushed her against him for the third time that night. “How could you think I wouldn’t want our child? Whatever I said back on Stroma—before we were married—was spoken in ignorance.” He kissed her head, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling her scent, which intoxicated him. “When did you learn this, sweetheart?”
“The day you told me to leave.”
Her words were like a punch to his heart. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. How terrified you must have been.”
“It was not a good night.”
Hugo released her so he could see her face.
“No,” she said, before he could speak. “Don’t apologize again. What you said that night hurt me—greatly—but you did it for the best of reasons.” Her lips twisted. “However misguided. I forgive you for the pain you caused me.” She gave him a chiding look. “Just never do it again.”
He gave a breathless laugh. “I will be a model husband for the rest of our lives.”
“I hope not, I like you the way you are.”
Hugo shifted so that he could strip the blankets off her.
“Hugo! What are you doing?”
“I want to see your belly.”
“But—”
He pushed open her thighs, knelt between them, and laid his head on the gentle swell of her stomach.
“Hugo.”
“Now you sound like a demented parrot,” he teased. “I can’t hear anything,” he said a moment later, and then pushed up onto his elbows to meet her gaze.
She laughed. “What did you expect to hear?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know a thing about babies or childbirth.” He left unsaid his only knowledge of subject, which was avoiding making clients pregnant. “When will you show some sign of your condition?”
“It’s early—only six weeks. It will be a few months.”
Hugo stroked the soft skin of her belly as his brain struggled to absorb the fact that there was—at this moment—a child beneath his hand. His child. Their child.
He experienced a sudden rush of primal pride and his cock—already half hard from being so close to her—throbbed as he imagined her swollen with his baby.
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” she asked, interrupting his primitive preening.
“Either is fine. What about you?”
She smiled down the length of her delicious body at him. “I just want a
