Before she knew what he was about, he sat down and flipped her face down over his thighs. He pressed his hand against the small of her back when she tried to rear up.
“I am a man of my word, cara,” he said.
“I do not want you to beat me, I want you to make love to me.”
Her voice was a wail of protest, and he chuckled. She ceased her struggles when his palm stroked over her buttocks. When he turned her over to kiss her, she whispered, “I think love and lust go together quite nicely.” And when at last they lay replete, she said, “I thought perhaps that you were asleep.”
“In the middle of the afternoon? I beg you, madam, to grant me some stamina.”
He slipped away from her and she drew herself up on her side. “There is something I would tell you.”
He quirked a black brow, and raised his hand to smooth her hair from her face.
“I would never have married Edward, regardless.”
“I know,” he said only. He sat up and pressed her upon her back, propping his head on his hand.
“You do not understand.” Somehow she could not make her eyes meet his. His fingers gently cupped her breast, his eyes still thoughtful upon her face.
He was not making it easy for her, she thought. The words still seemed stuck at odd angles in her throat. She heard a soft whimper, and realized with a confounded start that it had come from her own mouth.
His fingers stopped their light caressing.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered, her voice liquid with tears.
“I cannot imagine why.”
“I am being a fool.”
He merely smiled, and kissed her lightly, and waited.
“Oh damn you. I am pregnant.”
He remained silent. His hand moved from her breast to her belly, and remained there.
“I know, Cassandra.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him, utterly undone. “I do not understand. How—?”
“When I brought you here, after the duel, you became ill from the wine I gave you.”
“But everyone is occasionally ill.”
He looked faintly amused. “Yes, that is true. But you forget that I know your body very well. Your breasts, cara. Your pregnancy has made them swelled, heavy.”
She felt very much the fool. “Then why, my lord, did you not say something?”
“Because, my little simpleton, it was for you to tell me. Now that you know babes do not come from cabbage patches, I thought it only fitting that you be the bearer of the news this time.”
She gazed up at him in silence, and when she finally spoke, her voice was uncertain. “And did you not doubt me? Believe me conniving, disho
nest? Believe that I wanted to return to you only because of the child?”
“Only until last night.”
“And why last night? It makes no sense. Last night was no different from any of our preceding nights together.”
He looked taken aback. “I do believe you are right. Last night was no different. Perhaps,” he continued, his hand caressing her belly, “it was not last night, but the night before.”