The Demon Duchess: An Aristocrat Falls for a Cowboy Second Chance Romance (The Demon Duchess Series Book 2)

by Tessa Bowen

  “We agree on one thing at least. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. We’ll get married again—and not in some uptight office. I don’t want you wearing that ring either—too much bad blood. I’ll get you another ring.”

  Her chest rose and fell in a very attractive manner. The woman had no idea how beautiful her breasts looked when she heaved her chest like that.

  “I think that is a sound idea.”

  She still stood in the one boot as she wriggled the ring off her finger. The giant rock got stuck around her knuckle (probably the fault of all that extra ice cream). She wheezed with the effort, screwing her beautiful face up until she got the ring free. He thought she meant to hand him the thing, but it went the way of her boot. It glinted in the sunlight before plummeting into the cavern far below.

  “We’ve thrown away about twenty-five million dollars today,” John wisecracked. “We’re a real pair of geniuses.”

  “We don’t need money. We have everything we need. We have Ducky and we have Montana.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. We still have plenty of money.”

  “I suppose you’re right. You’re rather well-to-do, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, raaaaaather.”

  “Can we really go home?”

  “So long as Jeb agrees to keep his hands to himself.”

  “Won’t you try to make an effort at reconciling?”

  “Johnny has a lot of reconciling to do. Now, why don’t you take this blanket and march your slender ass over to that shady spot.”

  “What?”

  “Meet me over there by that tree.”

  “Whatever for—and what the bloody hell do I need a blanket for?”

  She was still vexed with him. He’d pushed her too far earlier. He wouldn’t push her anymore. He’d just love her. Yes, he’d love her and thank his lucky stars that he’d ever landed such a goddess.

  “We’re going to lie down on top of it and have a nice round of make-up sex.”

  He could almost hear the moisture wicking from her mouth. If she hung it open like that any longer a fly would find its way in.

  “Oh…are we?”

  “Have you been taking your birth control pill?”

  Her mouth clamped shut and then re-opened to holler at him. “You left me, what on earth do I need birth control pills for!”

  “I would have come back, Abbie. I could never leave you and Daphne forever—you must know that. She’s my daughter and you’re my wife.”

  “You tell me that now.”

  “When was your last period?”

  “Of all the rude things!”

  “Answer the question,” he said calmly.

  “Two blasted weeks ago.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “For making another baby.”

  Her face flushed that rosy shade of pink he so admired.

  “You just said you’d have a thousand of my babies, so we better get started. Besides, Ducky needs a brother or sister to boss around, don’t you think?”

  “Naturally,” she agreed haughtily.

  “And your fertility clock is ticking. You’re practically an artifact.”

  Her eyes flashed. They were as bright green as the soft grass blowing around her. He’d tumble her in that soft grass all afternoon. Her eyes were like lightning, but her lips were pursed in a pleasing pout.

  “When will you cease and desist with your nasty jokes about my age?”

  “You know I like being with an older woman.”

  John could tell this pleased her, even though she still had her dukes up. His wife was as spirited as she was lovely.

  “You need to be knocked down to size, John Jackson.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “You’re planning on giving me an attitude adjustment?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Over there in that shady spot?” he flirted.

  “I’ll cure your brashness with a good crack of my riding crop—right across your rear!”

  “I’ll let you crack my rear if I can…”

  He bent forward and whispered the rest. When a little sound of female submission escaped her lips, he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and filled her ear with his tongue. John purred when she whimpered, catching the tender lobe between his teeth and tugging lightly. Then he ran wet pecks over the graceful column of her swan neck, inhaling the feminine scent of her. Finally, he covered her mouth with his in a soul-searing kiss. Her nipples came to life against his chest and it was all he could do not to shred her shirt and have her right there.

  He resisted his baser urges and held her away from him. “I’m going to do right by you from here on out.”

  She sulked in spite of his words.

  “I’ll sign up for cowboy counseling when we get back, Abbie—I promise.”

  She searched his gaze. This time her eyes were wide and limpid.

  “You won’t keep leaving?”

  “I’ll never do you wrong again.”

  She straightened, wiping away a tear with a little huff. “All this talk of doing—let’s get it done already.”

  He grinned at her. “All right—I’d say we both need to blow off a little steam.”

  “Lead on,” she snapped, gesturing to the tree in the distance.

  John gave her an obsequious bow. “After you, My Lady”

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  They stared at each other over a deep-dish strawberry rhubarb pie. Ducky sat in her high chair, wearing a jaunty little bib, her feathers tacky with fruit syrup. Abigail was especially pleased with herself that morning. She’d been made love to twice already and now she was eating dessert for breakfast. Her crust wasn’t half bad either—it was flakey even.

  Jeb pinched off a piece and popped a juicy hunk into his mouth.

  John snarled at him just for show. “Mitts off, brother. Aren’t you going to be late for your physical therapy appointment?”

  “I told Margaret to cancel it for me—don’t need it. Hand has never felt better. Where did you find that doc, Johnny? He’s a real whiz.”

  The Baroness beamed as Jeb stretched his fingers wide then made a fist for his brother.

  “Actually, Abbie’s friend the Duke of Devoy found him—said he was the best.”

  “I guess if he’s good enough for a duke, he’s good enough for me. He’s going to help me get off my pain meds. Don’t need them anymore either. See what else I can do?”

  With a playful cackle Jeb gave his older brother the middle finger.

  “I’m so happy for you—now can you get the hell out of the kitchen. I want to flirt with my wife.”

  Jeb winked and snatched another hunk of pie, leaning in to kiss his niece’s sticky face before taking his exit.

  “Bring Ducky outside after you’re through making out,” he threw over his shoulder. “I want to show her the new baby lamb. A cute little black-faced one was born at dawn.”

  “Yep,” John agreed. “See you out there soon.”

  “Springtime in Montana is heaven,” the Baroness sighed dreamily as she handed Daphne another forkful of pie. The baby took the mouthful and gulped it down, smacking her lips with relish.

  “What do you think of your mother’s baking?” John asked his daughter.

  Ducky warbled and then spit, spewing a wet spray of juice across the Baroness’s pristine white maternity blouse.

  “I do thank you for the kind compliment,” Abigail joked.

  “You want to change your shirt before we head out for our walk?”

  The Baroness waved a breezy hand, disregarding the raaaaather disgusting stain of spit up and pie soaking the silk fabric. “No, it’s fine.” She blinked fetchingly at him and took his hand in hers, placing it on her rounded belly. “Four months today.”

  “Already?” he asked. “Crazy to think four months ago we were squabbling on that bluff in Australia.”

  She leaned in for a kiss. “Squabbling was
n’t all we were doing.”

  “Apparently not—I hit the jackpot on one try again, didn’t I?”

  “My husband is very potent,” she agreed with pride.

  “You make the job easy, sweetheart.”

  “If the baby is a boy, what shall we name him?”

  “We’re not naming him Trevor,” he smirked.

  She pinched his cheek affectionately. “Don’t mention him—you’ll ruin your contentedness.”

  “I said his name without smashing my fist through the wall, didn’t I? And I invited them for Fourth of July.”

  “Yes, we can meet the new wee one.”

  “Wonderful, then I’ll stick the Union Jack up his—”

  “Hush,” she soothed, feeding him a mouthful of pie. “Or I’ll tattle on you at our next session with Dr. Pappinakas.”

  Ducky belted out a howl of outrage at being shortchanged, so the Baroness re-loaded her fork and fed the next bite to her daughter.

  “You are content, aren’t you John?” Abbie asked softly.

  “Very,” he told her.

  “You don’t feel the urge to…ramble?”

  “No, I’m good right here.”

  Her question was a little breathless. “You are?”

  “I finally found something I want to stay put for.”

  “You beastly man, it’s about time you say it.”

  “I was referring to the pie, of course.”

  Abigail saw the love shining in her husband’s teasing eyes—he didn’t need to say the words. He’d already said them that morning when they’d been in bed together. His hand gripped hers. His hold was so tight that she felt the heat of her new wedding ring pressing into her palm. She could feel the heat of his too, a simple band of gold binding them together for life.

  They kissed over her perfectly executed lattice crust. Ducky let out a resounding quack of approval.

  And that was that.

  THE END

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