"Beautiful isn't a strong enough word," Julian managed, touching the babe's downy cheek, the warm curve of her chin.
"She bellows like you, too. Even Mrs. Peters said so. She said we should have expected such a loud yell and such a stubborn arrival—given the unpleasant but most likely prospect that our daughter would take after you. According to Mrs. Peters, you're the most thunderous, willful, and domineering man she's ever met. And you doubtless wouldn't hesitate to pass those traits on to your child."
At that moment, not even Mrs. Peters' caustic remarks could shatter Julian's euphoric state. "There's another reason for our daughter's turbulent nature," he murmured. "According to Mr. Scollard, she was conceived during that storm at sea."
"I know. He told me so when he left my chambers—just a few minutes before she was born." Aurora kissed the infant's silky head. "Julian, let's call her Marinna. It's derived from the Latin phrase meaning 'from the sea'. That way, the love in which she was conceived will surround her, stay with her all her life."
"Marinna Bencroft." Julian smiled, bending to brush a kiss to his daughter's brow, then shifting to cover his wife's mouth with his. "It's perfect. So is she. Thank you, soleil." He framed Aurora's face between his palms. "I love you more than you'll ever know."
"And I you," she whispered.
As if to remind them who was the true champion of the day, Marinna stirred, her lashes fluttering then lifting to reveal the brilliant topaz depths beneath. Squirming, she opened her rosebud mouth and emitted a loud, ear-piercing squall that defied her delicate beauty and made her new father jump to his feet.
Blinking, Julian gaped from his daughter's now-alert, wide-eyed appraisal to his tired, laughing wife. "She takes after me?" he demanded, amazed that so tiny and fragile a creature could make so deafening a sound. "Perhaps. But there's quite a bit of you in her as well." He grinned as Marinna demonstrated that fact, groping at her mother's nightrail in furious, determined motions that vividly stated she had no intentions of being detained or deterred—then bellowing until Aurora moved the offending garment aside. "Quite a bit of you," Julian repeated, his chest tight with emotion. "Such as your decided lack of patience. And your uncanny resourcefulness," he added in an aching whisper as Marinna unerringly found her mark, latching onto her mother's breast, her tiny fist clenched beside it.
"You have a point," Aurora agreed, tenderly cradling their daughter as she drank. "You, little one, are an impeccable combination of Huntley and Bencroft," she apprised the infant. "And I can't imagine anything more ideal than that."
Silently Julian agreed. Feeling more blessed than he'd ever imagined, he watched the two women he loved, Aurora's damp mane of red-gold hair sweeping over Marinna's fair skin.
My daughter. My daughter, he echoed inwardly, besieged by a fierce sense of possessiveness as he drank in the wondrous combination of himself and Aurora: his topaz eyes and dark hair blended with his wife's exquisite features, his own strong-willed intensity melded with Aurora's fire and spirit.
Abruptly Mr. Scollard's toast sprang to mind, and Julian realized that once again, the intuitive lighthouse keeper had been right.
Through Marinna, the Huntleys and the Bencrofts were now truly and wholly united.
And from this day forth, their joys would abound.
* * * * *