Claiming His Wife (Domestic Discipline 4)

Suddenly Eleanor felt as though they were standing on a precipice together, one that they'd been moving towards for a long time. One that could make or break her heart.

Tilting her head back, her expression completely serious, she looked up at her husband. "Why?"

******

The searching, almost desperate look in Eleanor's big blue eyes made Edwin hesitate. There had been quite a few times, since their wedding, that he'd felt Eleanor wanted something from him. He just didn't know what and she never seemed inclined to tell him, or even proffer a hint. This was another such moment.

Cupping her face in his hand, he couldn't help but worry that his answer would - again - be found lacking. Her soft skin almost looked translucent, she was so pale after her morning sickness. Ever since he'd realized her condition, he'd also seen her becoming more delicate. Never frail, but she seemed more vulnerable, less robust. It made him feel even more protective of her than usual, and he'd done his best to ensure that she didn't over exert herself, even as she'd insisted on carrying on almost as normal.

He'd been waiting for days for her to reveal her condition. Part of him had even started to wonder if she hadn't realized why she was so fatigued, but if she didn't know by now that she was carrying his child, then he would eat his hat. It was for the wife to announce when she was carrying, but who knew what went on in the feminine mind. He had no idea why Eleanor hadn't told him yet, but as long as she did nothing to endanger herself or the child then he was content to wait.

Still, he didn't want to cause her any distress either. So he parried the question back to her.

"Why wouldn't I want to take care of my wife?" he asked, rubbing his thumb across her cheek as she leaned into the caress. Her eyes sparked, with temper, and he could barely hold back his grin. Even sick and feeling weak, his Eleanor never completely lost her spirit.

"But why would you want to take care of me?"

Edwin had quite a reputation with the ladies. He knew what they liked, what they wanted, but when it came to moments like this with his wife, he found himself floundering. The look in her eyes told him quite clearly that there was a right answer and a wrong answer, and unless he wanted to see more than just a flash of her temper, he'd better figure out what was what and quickly.

"Because... that's what I do. I'm your husband. I care about you... I want to take care of you..." The waiting expression on her face frustrated him further, as he knew that he still wasn't getting it quite right. "Bloody hell... Nell, what do you want from me? I love you, I want to take care of you... what is so wrong with that?"

Sudden tension in her body had her nearly vibrating as she suddenly refocused on him with an intense look that took his breath away. "You love me?"

Gods above, he would never understand women. "Yes, of course, what - Nell, why are you crying? Stop... dammit, what did I say?"

Eyes awash in wetness, huge tears were welling up and beginning to trickle down her cheeks, too quickly for Edwin to halt them. He had no idea what he'd said wrong, inducing an unaccustomed panic. Usually when she was this upset with him, he at least knew why.

"You really love me?" Her voice was watery, wavering, as she pressed her face against his chest again, frustratingly hiding her expression from him. But the wistful happiness in her voice was something he understood.

"Yes, of course I do, Nell..." he said soothingly, wondering if her condition had affected her head as well. He rubbed her back in small circles, doing his best to placate the little woman.

Suddenly she smacked his chest with her palm, making him yelp in surprise as she pulled away. Dammit, her mood had volleyed again and now she looked incensed. "What do you mean 'of course?' How was I to know that you love me when you've never said it before?"

Edwin rubbed his chest, trying to think back. "Haven't I?"

"No, you dolt! I would remember it if you had!"

He gave her a stern look. "No insults, sweetheart. I wouldn't spank you right now, because you're not feeling well, but believe me, I will be keeping a tally over the next seven months and once you're recovered from birthing, you will be getting your due."

To his surprise, his wife froze again, eyeing him warily. Her hand went automatically to her stomach, covering it, and Edwin felt his usual masculine surge of smugness at knowing that she was carrying his child.

"You know?"

"Know what?" This might be one of the most confusing conversations he'd ever had with his wife. He'd heard that women could become quite volatile during pregnancy - and considering that Eleanor could be volatile most of the time, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that he was having a bit of trouble keeping up with her now.

She nibbled her lower lip, looking worried all of the sudden. "That I'm with child."

"Yes, of course, sweetheart," he said gently, wondering at the nervous tension that hovered around her. "I've known for a while... I can count you know."

A blush suffused her cheeks, making her look less sickly, which was a relief. "Oh... and... you don't mind?"

It felt like a megrim was growing in the front of his head and he resisted the urge to rub at it. After all, he didn't want to set his wife off. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She didn't resist, thankfully. Holding her nice and tight, enjoying the way she felt pressed up against him, he lowered his head to murmur in her ear. Obviously, her morning illness had affected her mind, and it was his duty to put his wife at ease.

"Nell, I'm thrilled that you're carrying our child. I will love him or her, as much as I love you. I'm going to take care of you, when you're ill and when you're well. I will discipline you when you need it. And I will do this for the rest of our lives. Everything about you, including your penchant for occasionally being an unmanageable hoyden, makes me happy. Alright?"

Nodding her head, Eleanor rubbed her face against him. His robe clung damply to his skin.

Dammit, she was crying again.