Duarte's Child

There had been quite a few changes in their lives over the past eighteen months, she reflected with the lightness of heart that had become second nature to her. No longer did she worry herself sick about imminent disaster. Knowing that she was loved and valued and very much needed by Duarte had made a huge difference to her self-esteem. Even her Portuguese had improved by leaps and bounds, enabling her to overcome her former shyness and enjoy company and make proper friends.

After exchanging stilted taut phonecalls with her mother the year before in an effort to ease the tension between them and visiting again, Emily had finally acknowledged that she and her mother were never likely to be that close. Her mother’s husband, Peter Davies, had never had any interest in her and that had not changed but, now that she understood why that was so, it no longer hurt her.

However, it had been a very welcome surprise when both her sisters, initially shaken by the effect of Emily finally asserting herself, had slowly come round to seeing her as she was rather than as the illegitimate kid sister whom they had pretty much been taught to despise. Only then had she realised how easily families could all sink into the same bad pattern of behaviour. She had finally appreciated that neither Hermione nor Corinne were that close to Lorene either but over the past year her sisters had steadily become closer to Emily.

‘They just copied your mother. It wasn’t until you made them stand back and question their attitude that they saw how it had been. They’re adults now and they’ve started thinking for themselves,’ Duarte had asserted with immense approval, no longer referring to them as the ugly sisters and indeed making much-appreciated efforts to introduce them to eligible men.

And Duarte? Emily crossed the corridor into their bedroom—the nursery had been moved to a more convenient location. Emily smiled as she noticed the adrenalin kit in the bedroom—Duarte had insisted they had one in every room.

Duarte strolled out of the bathroom, still wet from the shower, only a towel wrapped round his lean hips. ‘Is Jamie asleep?’

He still took her breath away, Emily conceded, striving not to stare like a teenager at all that potent masculinity on display. ‘Out like a light—’

‘It’ll be the five o’clock start he had today.’ Duarte gave a slight shudder at the memory of being bounced into rude wakefulness at dawn by his energetic son.

‘Oh, well,’ Emily said wickedly. ‘You are the man who once wanted a really big family and I have reached a decision—’

Duarte had tensed. ‘What about?’

‘I want another baby—’

‘Two to bounce on us at dawn?’ Duarte tried to tease but shock was written all over him at that announcement. ‘Emily, you really don’t have to make the kind of sacrifice for me. There’s a lot more to family than numbers. I’m perfectly happy with Jamie—’

‘But I’m not and this has very little to do with you,’ Emily told him with dancing eyes, touched by his efforts to dissuade her when she knew how much he regretted never having had the opportunity to really share her last pregnancy with her. ‘I just have this yen for another child—’

Duarte searched her smiling face with a frown and he argued, ‘I don’t want you being sick and miserable—’

‘But it’s not going to be like that again—’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know,’ Emily told him with an air of feminine superiority. ‘I just know…OK?’

He reached for her and drew her lazily up against his big powerful body, sending her temperature rocketing. Stunning golden eyes glittered over her with possessive heat. ‘It’s just we come first and I want you to be happy—’

‘You’re the man who promised me the moon,’ Emily said plaintively, lashes cast down. ‘I’m still waiting…’

Duarte vented a deeply appreciative laugh and backed her down on the bed. ‘Are you ever going to let me live that down, minha esposa?’

‘Probably not.’ She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes, luxuriating in the adoring look he could not hide, thinking how lucky she was and how gloriously happy. It had not taken the gift of the moon to bring about that transformation. All it had taken was love.

‘I love you more every day,’ Duarte groaned hungrily against her extended throat, feeling her quiver and arch in instant encouragement. ‘You’ve got me flying home for lunch now. You make me insatiable—’

‘Hear any complaints?’ Emily teased, inching off his towel like a shameless woman set on seduction. ‘Instead of some boring working lunch, you get me—’