The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“She didn’t. He discovered she was bedding a friend of his. He nearly collapsed from shock and outrage. He came to Northcliffe to regain his mental balance and I looked upon him as my savior. He then went to Claybourn Hall and married my wife.”

“Do you think, perhaps, Douglas, that you could rephrase that just a bit?”

“Why? It’s the truth. Just because you pop out of the bottle doesn’t change the facts.”

She sighed. “You’re right, of course. However, if you will change your words just a bit, I will reward you when we return home, if you don’t reward me first, which you always do. You don’t give me a chance, Douglas.”

“Perhaps in fifty years I will.”

That sounded like a fine commitment to Alexandra and she gave him a brilliant smile. Douglas, on the other hand, rethought his words, and wanted to kick himself. He cursed, drank too much brandy, then brightened. Too much liquor and it just might slow him down a bit. He was fuzzyheaded in the carriage. He was whistling vacantly on the way upstairs. Yes, maybe the brandy would work.

It didn’t, but it had been worth a try. When finally he pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back, he crossed his arms over his head and concentrated on calming his breathing. “You will kill me,” he said finally. “A man cannot continue like this. It isn’t natural. It isn’t healthy.”

“What about me?”

He lowered an arm and placed his hand over her breast. Her heart was galloping. He grinned. “We’ll be buried side by side in the Northcliffe family cemetery.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You must give me an heir first.”

“I thought ladies were supposed to feel ill when they were pregnant.”

“Most do, so I’ve heard.”

“I feel wonderful.”

“When was your last monthly flow?”

It was dark and they had just made love and were now lying side by side on the large be

d, naked and sated, but still it was embarrassing.

When her silence dragged out beyond his patience, Douglas said, “You haven’t bled since we were married, have you?”

She shook her head and he felt the movement.

He lightly laid his palm on her belly. “You’re very flat.” He extended his fingers to her pelvic bones. “You’re small, but not too small, I hope, to hold my child. But it is true that I am a big man, Alexandra. My mother complains bitterly even now that I nearly killed her with my size at birth. No, I don’t think you’re large enough. I will have a physician come and examine you.”

“You will do no such thing!”

“Well, fancy that, she can talk,” Douglas said.

“Douglas, listen to me.” She came up onto her elbow and her hair fell onto his chest. “I am a woman and it is women who have babies. I won’t allow any man other than you to touch me. Do you understand?”

“Who will deliver our child?”

“A midwife. My mother was delivered by a midwife. She doesn’t care for men either.”

He laughed at that, then skimmed his palm over her belly, down to cup her. He pressed her again onto her back. His hand was large and very warm. His fingers caressed and stroked her. She sucked in her breath. “You don’t care for me, Alexandra? I am a man.”

“I know you’re a man, Douglas. What I don’t understand is why anyone would believe you a cold man. Why, just look at what you are doing, and how warm your voice is. Cold! Ha!”

“Who told you that?”

“That young man you said was bad. Heatherington.”

“Ah. He was perhaps seeing if you were unhappy with me, thus his comment.”