Page 29 of Royal Baby Maker

“Just a purse,” she said, bending low to pet the dog. Her hair hid her face, I was surprised to see her smiling when she stood again. This wasn't like her pretend pleasantries, this was a real smile, and in it, I saw how similar she was to her son. “Just a baby. Just a marriage. Any of these things can be tossed aside by the wrong people.”

I went red. Very red. “Okay, you did hear a lot. Listen... about Bishop.”

“You love him.”

I bit my tongue, trying to decide how to answer. “Yes.”

“And he loves you. Clearly.” Shaking her head, she came closer. I saw how tired she was behind all of her makeup. “I told you it was his idea to get the dogs. I didn't tell you his reason.” Glancing behind her, she considered the air, then me again. “My husband has been very absent. I loathe the word 'lonely' but maybe I was. Or am. Bishop thought as much, so he got Jaws and Cujo for me.”

My heart skipped. “He can be very thoughtful.” Moving forward, my toe bumped something—my shoe. I quickly slid it back on. “Miss Callehurst, I want you to know that I get why you wanted Iris over me.”

Amusement turned her lips into a pucker. “Do you?”

“You thought she would be a fit for your son. I don't think that was wrong, I mean, before it turned out she was out to backstab him. If I was you, and I had a kid, I would do my best to look out for them.”

She watched me curiously. “There's a silent 'but' on your tongue.”

I bit my lip. “But—you don't always know who is best for you. Or anyone, really. Bishop isn't who I'd have guessed. Now? I can't imagine being with anyone else.”

Quicker than I expected, she crossed the last distance, embracing me. It was a short hug, but it meant the world to me. Holding me at arm’s length, she sighed. “Call me Cathleen. A daughter-in-law should be on a first name basis.”

“You don't even let me call you that,” Bishop said. He was standing down the hall, half-leaning on the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. He looked astoundingly comfortable; like a suit of armor that belonged there. If I looked closer, I could see that he was watching not just me—but his mother, too—with fascination.

Moving towards him, I held out my hands. He took them up, then he went further, sweeping me into his arms. Fingers coiled in my hair, making it so I couldn't escape.He heard everything,I thought in a daze.He knows his mother is happy for us.

I wanted to behave, but even so, I let my nails scrape over the back of his shirt, untucking it from his belt. I dipped under to brush his skin; he stiffened at my contact. Beneath my hands, each of his muscles tightened, reminding me how strong he was.

We gasped when he pulled us apart—just an inch, enough to speak. “Dammit, you make it very hard to behave,” he grumbled.

“It's not my fault. It's the pregnancy.”

“Sure it is,” he said, his eyes lighting up with mirth.

“It is! Really!”

“You're protesting like Icarewhat the reason is,” he said, chuckling under his breath. Taking me by the hand, he faced us towards his mother. She'd stayed quiet, patiently toying with the end of her shawl as she hovered nearby. “Mom, you're really okay with this?”

Her thin eyebrows arched high enough to pull her fine wrinkles smooth. “Would it matter if I wasn't? You've always done what you wanted, Bishop. I'd be foolish to expect that to change with love involved.”

His hold on me tightened. “I do love her. And you're right, even if you hated Nell, or if Dad decided he wasn't going to give us what he promised, I wouldn't have been able to walk away from her. In fact... the only walking I want to do is down the aisle.”

Instantly my heart wedged in my throat. The background noise of the party was soft, but it faded more as I focused on Bishop's determined expression. With ease, he dropped to one knee. I'd begun trembling. I was shaking so much that, when he took my hand up in his, he hesitated. “I'm fine,” I squeaked out. “Keep going. What's that about an aisle?”

He grinned sharply. “Is this how you're going to be? You'll never walk anywhere if you're shaking this much.”

“Shut up, shut up,” I said, gulping for air. “Ask me what you want to ask!”

Miss Callehurst had put her shawl over the bottom of her face. She scrunched it there, as if it could hide how overwhelmed she was.

Clearing his throat, Bishop flipped his shirt out of the way—I'd pulled it out of his pants when I'd clawed at his back. Smooth as a spoon over fresh cream, he flourished a small, navy blue box from his pocket. I'd known he was about to... deep down, it had been obvious... and still, I let out a rush of air. “Nellie Pinewood, you're the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of sharing a shower with.”

“Bishop!” Fuck, I was beyond red.

Laughing low in his chest, he showed me the ring in the box. It was white gold, the metal wrapping around a princess cut diamond bigger than a chocolate chip. “It would mean the world to me if you'd pledge the rest of your life to me. I want to be by your side from now until we're old and gray andstillkissing like we'd just met. I want to see how amazing our children will be with you as their mother. Will you marry me?”

At first I thought,Children?As in more than one? But then a comet-sized explosion of joy crashed into me. I was flaring with heat inside and out, a being of pure bliss, and speaking became impossible. Tasting tears as they rolled down my cheeks and caught in the corners of my nervous laugh, I nodded over and over.

“That's a yes?” he asked, no longer joking. I'd never seen him so serious.

---