by M. S. Parker
I put my fingers against his lips, quieting his protest. “I know you are. I don't doubt your love for me or for our child at all. What I meant was that I should have understood that losing Silva in childbirth would affect how you reacted to me being pregnant.”
He sighed, reaching out to twist a lock of chestnut brown hair around his finger. My hair had grown out in the last six months, reaching my shoulders now, and I couldn't deny that I was enjoying not having to keep it regulation length or style.
“Losing her and our baby broke my heart,” he admitted quietly, his accent thickening with emotion. “But losing you would destroy me. I would give up everything if it meant keeping you and the child safe. Money, honor, even my freedom. None of it means anything without you.”
“I know.” I brushed my lips across his. “In the days ahead, we must find ways to compromise what we want so that we can each have what we need, but I promise that I will always hear you out.”
He nodded, sliding his arms around my waist, his hands resting on the small of my back. “That is agreeable to me also.”
I leaned into him, a fierce and sudden need tightening things low in my belly. “What do you say we seal the deal in a way that's a lot more enjoyable than a handshake?”
His eyes darkened, and I knew mine had gone from their usual silver gray to something closer to steel. What color eyes would our child have, I wondered? A rich, deep emerald like Gracen, or light like mine? Not that it mattered. I was barely a month along, and I already loved our child as intensely as I'd ever loved another person.
Which was why I planned to fight like hell to give him or her a future in the United States of America. It wasn't a perfect country or government, and there would be plenty of injustice and strife in its future, but my child – my children – would be a part of it.
But first...
I ran my hand down Gracen's chest, past his waist, and cupped him through his breeches. He sucked in a breath, and I felt him start to harden beneath my touch.
“Bedroom,” I said. “Now.”
He nodded, and the two of us hurried toward the stairs, heat and desire thick between us, as if our disagreement had never happened. We would need to make decisions, but not right now. After all, we had a while before we would even be able to get a ship home. There was no point in debating it right now.
Especially since all I wanted at the moment was to lick every inch of my gorgeous husband's body and then have him fuck me until I couldn't see straight.
Damn hormones.
As Gracen closed the door behind us, he hesitated rather than coming straight to me.
“Are you certain this cannot...that this will not...”
My sexy, gorgeous husband getting flustered talking about sex with his pregnant wife was actually kind of cute. I started working on the ties of my dress as I moved toward him.
“It's perfectly safe,” I assured him. “I may never have been pregnant before, but I was an army medic, and I planned on becoming a pediatrician so I spent plenty of my free time in the service learning as much as I could about pretty much everything.”
“A what?”
Right. Not a thing during this time period. “A doctor who specializes in working with children.” I waved a dismissive hand. “The point is, as long as I'm feeling okay, we can have sex without worrying. From what I understand, unless things get...rough, the worst thing that can happen is that it could throw me into labor.”
His eyebrows shot up at the word rough, and I wondered if his thoughts were anything like mine. Handcuffs and hair-pulling and the sort of hard, deep fucking that we would both feel for days.
“But if we are careful...?”
My dress dropped to the floor, leaving me in my shift. “Yes. If we are careful...”
Gracen's touch was gentle as he slid the thin fabric from my shoulders, his expression just as full of awe and reverence as it had been on Christmas Day when I first told him I was pregnant. He ran his hands down my arms, lightly touched my fingers before cupping my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my nipples.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “Exquisite.”
I made a pleased noise as little shivers of pleasure ran over my skin, sucked in a breath when he lowered his head to flick his tongue across my nipple, then took it between his lips. He sucked on it lightly, each pull going straight through me. My toes curled, pussy throbbing.
Fuck, I loved his mouth.
I wasn't sure when we'd ended up on the bed, only that by the time Gracen stretched me out on the heavy comforter, I was pulling at his clothes, trying to get them off.
“Impatient, are we, little one?” He smiled at me as he stripped, baring all of that beautiful, golden skin.
“Only when it comes to you,” I said, giving him an appreciative look.
He lowered himself next to me, propping up on his elbow. He put his hand on my stomach, his touch even hotter than my overheated skin.
“How long do you think until we can see him?” Gracen's eyes flicked up to me, a sheepish smile on his face. “Or her.”
I covered his hand with mine. “It varies from woman to woman, but I'll have a baby bump before spring.”
“A baby bump?”
I held my hand over his and mimed the way my stomach would look soon. “That's what we call them in my time.”
“I like it,” he said as he leaned over me and kissed my stomach. “A baby bump.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind his ear as a wave of love washed over me. I put my hand on his cheek, thumb touching the corner of his mouth. Those beautiful, sensual lips. I'd known him less than a year, and I didn't know how I'd ever be able to live without the feel of him kissing me, touching me...
I pushed the thought away before it could shift the mood from sexual to maudlin. I cupped his chin and pulled him up to my mouth. His lips softened, gentled, the kiss slowly deepening as his tongue stroked across mine. When he finally moved over me, I wrapped my legs around him, rested my heels on the backs of his knees. The tip of his erection nudged my entrance, and I arched up against him, eager to have him inside me again.
We both sighed as his body joined with mine. It was completion. Perfection. Two becoming one.
And every other description ever written or spoken in a feeble attempt to explain that feeling that came when making love to one's soulmate.
None of them could ever come close, I thought, but I didn't need to be able to put words to what it was like being with Gracen. What we had was beyond words, deeper. More.
I cried out as I came the first time, my nails digging into his shoulders. He cursed as I tightened around him but didn't miss a single stroke, each one filling me in that way only he could. And, still, I wanted more of him. I would always want more of him.
He was mine. Now and always.
Chapter 4
When I was in junior high, my brother and I had watched the movie The Cutting Edge at least a dozen times. Technically a sports movie, it wasn't really known as such since it was about an Olympic figure skater who'd scared off all of her partners before she was paired with a former hockey player. Ennis liked the movie because he loved hockey, and he thought Moira Kelly was hot. I, on the other hand, had loved the romance. Even now, I remembered the New Year’s Eve scene where the two main characters were trying to deny their feelings for each other, only to spin around amid a rush of casual kisses at midnight...and find themselves face-to-face. There'd been so much tension in that moment that I'd spent years wishing to find that sort of connection.
Well, I had that connection now, even more so, but I hadn't achieved my New Year's Eve moment yet. The few times I'd spent that special night with Bruce, he'd been so obnoxiously plastered that I'd almost been grateful the last two years when I hadn't been around.
Despite all that, however, I hadn't been looking forward to getting dressed to the nines in some of the most uncomfortable clothes I'd ever worn, and pretending to enjoy small talk with strangers. For this reason, I was gra
teful when Alexandre St. James announced that, after what happened at his Christmas Eve ball, he would be spending a quiet night at home, and we were welcome to join him.
It also meant that I could avoid my stays without an argument from Gracen. I talked to him yesterday about how constricting a woman's waist wasn't necessarily good for her health in general, but even more so when she was pregnant. Granted, the corsets now weren't quite as restrictive as they would be at other points in history, but they were far from comfortable, and definitely not anything I wanted to wear when I started showing.
He agreed, but it was the sort of vague agreement that made me wonder if he'd actually known what he was agreeing to.
I sighed as I pulled out a dress and realized that I would have to talk to someone about letting out my dresses in the near future. “What I wouldn’t give for a Motherhood Maternity store right now.”
“What?” Gracen threw me a confused look.
“Never mind.” I shook my head. “They haven’t been invented yet.”
He raised an eyebrow but let the subject drop as he fastened the ties at his wrists. He was casually dressed, but that didn't stop me from appreciating the view of his lean but muscled body. Absently, I wondered what he would look like in modern clothes. Jeans and a fitted t-shirt or sweater. A suit – one of those expensive, tailor-made ones.
Then again, he'd look good in pretty much anything.
Or in nothing.
My stomach clenched. Oh yeah, I definitely preferred him in nothing.
It took quite a bit of self-control to finish dressing and take Gracen's arm. We'd had a late dinner, but were now heading down for refreshments as we waited for midnight. After that, I fully intended to drag my husband back to our room and celebrate the New Year in a less-clothed way.
Father and daughter were already in the parlor when Gracen and I arrived downstairs. They looked alike, with their platinum hair and deep blue eyes. While Alexandre's body was definitely on the rotund side, Alize had the sort of generous curves that made me suspect she got them from her father's side of the family. I wasn't sure what the story was with her mother, but I hadn't seen anything in my time here that led me to believe that Madame St. James had been around recently.
“Bonjour, mes amis,” St. James said, rising as we entered. “Are you prepared to greet the New Year with new friends?”
“We are,” Gracen said. “A new year with new possibilities.” He glanced at me. “And a new country.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, taking a glass of champagne from the table.
We all raised our glasses in a toast, but the moment I put the crystal to my lips, I was reminded that I couldn't drink alcohol. Not now. A glass or two at some point in the later months might not be an issue, but right now, it was a horrible idea. No one during this time would think twice about it, but I did, so I set the glass aside without touching a drop. This would take some adjustment, especially since alcohol was a staple rather than an indulgence in a time where the quality of water could be suspect.
I wondered when would be an appropriate time to alert Alexandre of my condition, or if I should tell Alize and let her inform the staff of some of the things I'd need before I went back to the colonies.
Alexandre gave Gracen and me a little bow. “I believe I would be amiss not to take the time to thank you, Honor, and you, Gracen, for everything you have done for my family.”
Alize caught her breath, and I turned to see Celina standing in the doorway, looking a little uncertain, a little uncomfortable...but absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a new dress that, while not as elaborate as some of the things I'd seen other women wear, was so much more than anything she'd ever worn before. Her strawberry blonde hair framed her face in waves, and her cheeks were pink, giving her an innocent, girlish look. I couldn’t help smiling at the way her eyes rounded when Alexandre handed her a glass of champagne.
“Monsieur St. James,” she tried to protest.
He held up his hand. “We have already discussed this. You are with my daughter, so you are family.”
My admiration for Alexandre St. James rose at his clear acceptance of Alize's choice in partner. There were plenty of families in my own time who wouldn't have been so welcoming, and in a time where the social class between nobility and servant would have been enough to keep them apart, it was downright amazing. Then again, this was France. They weren't exactly known for Puritan standards. Still, I was willing to bet that there was a difference between accepting a dalliance versus spurning convention and wanting a true relationship, which meant coming to America remained the best option for them.
I might have been focusing on the war, and now on my pregnancy, but I was still looking forward to the part I would get to play in their new life in America. Gracen and I might have left things up in the air as to my return, but I knew that whenever I went, the girls would be with me.
At least I wouldn't be alone.
I pushed the thought aside as soon as it came. I didn't want to deal with it now.
I smiled as Celina moved to Alize's side, both girls giving each other the sort of shy, sweet looks that actually made me tear up.
Damn pregnancy hormones.
“I believe we have spoken to most of those who would be willing to assist,” Alexandre said, breaking the mood. “However, there is one more man who could be a valuable asset.”
Gracen nodded. “You and I can go tomorrow.”
“Just you and I?” Alexandre glanced at me.
I opened my mouth, but Gracen cut me off before I could say anything. “Yes.”
“Is something wrong?” Alexandre's concern was clearly written on his face.
I shook my head, unsure if I wanted to make an announcement just yet.
“Honor and I are expecting a child,” Gracen said proudly as he slid his arm around my waist.
“Thanks for asking me how I wanted to break the news, Gracen,” I muttered.
Gracen’s arm tightened around me. “Was there a reason to wait?”
I almost told him how a lot of couples waited until after the end of the first trimester to tell people, just in case something went wrong.
“Merveilleux!” Alexandre said, beaming. He shook Gracen’s hand before embracing me. “Wonderful!”
“Thank you,” I said. My hand went to my stomach in a gesture so instinctive that I barely realized I was doing it.
“I intended to speak with you about this soon,” Gracen said. “Honor will go to the colonies with Celina and Alize as soon as the first ship sails.”
“Gracen…” I wasn’t sure why I was protesting. I'd told him I understood his need to protect me, and since we hadn't worked on the compromise that I said we needed to make, it made sense that he'd still want to insist on me leaving.
“You are agreeable to this?” The look Alexandre gave me said he found that hard to believe.
“I'd rather not, but it does seem to be the best option we have at the moment.” I sighed as I made the admission. “Besides, if the girls are going with me, I think it's best we leave as soon as possible.”
“Celina and I are grateful for your assistance,” Alize said. “I do not know if we would have had the strength to go alone.”
The look that passed between Alize and Celina, the hope that I saw in their eyes, it made me start to think that perhaps Gracen had the right idea after all. I still didn't like it, but I now wondered if there was a way to make it work.
When the clock struck twelve, I had my sweet, perfect New Year's kiss from the man I loved more than anyone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alize shyly plant a kiss on Celina’s flaming cheek, then whisper something that made both young women shiver in anticipation. I looked the other way to give them their privacy and caught Alexandre with a soft, wistful smile on his face.
It was 1776 now, the year that would be considered America's anniversary.
The year my baby would be born.
That was enough to make my head spin.
There was no way I’d admit any sort of weakness to him, not when I was still trying to figure out a way to keep us together. “I just didn’t sleep enough last night.”
“Should I apologize for keeping you up?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”
“No.” He gave me another kiss, this one rougher than the last. “But I do want to take you to bed so you can rest.”
I was feeling more awake by the time we reached our bedroom, but Gracen's touch was completely chaste. If circumstances had been different, I would've been annoyed at his gentle treatment, but now that I understood where his fear was coming from, I knew I had to choose my battles. Right now, I accepted it for what it was.
I lay awake in the dark, wracking my brain in an attempt to remember how quickly things would escalate, to find something that would tell me how I could stay with him. I couldn't be an ocean apart from him, not if there was any way around it.
I remembered a decent amount of history thanks to my brother, but I couldn't seem to find any answers. Not for the first time, I wished for my phone and access to a search engine. What I could remember, however, was that I was pretty sure there was little Gracen could do here in France for much longer. More important people would be coming, people whose place in history was already established. Once they came, Gracen and I had to fade into the background.
I rolled over. “Gracen,” I said his name softly.
My husband moaned, his voice thick with sleep as he spoke. “I know a precious little about babies, but I know for a fact it is not time for that yet.”
I chuckled and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “That’s not the only reason women wake up their husbands, you know.”
He sighed and opened his eyes. “Is this revenge for keeping you up last night?”
“Be serious, Gracen.”
“I am serious.” He sat up, eyes narrowing as the last of the sleep left him. “What is it?”
“I remembered something,” I began, “about how events in the Revolution will proceed. Things will be okay here without us, so I want you to come back to the colonies with me.”
