Page 84 of Dukes Do It Better
Mal, naked from the waist up, amid rumpled bedclothes and a little bleary-eyed at the early hour, lounged against the pillows. Beside him, Alton in his nightdress perched on the bed with his wooden kit of watercolors and a paintbrush.
The ship tattoo and waves had already been colored in with blues and greens, with a yellow ship and purple sails. A bright red kraken lingered menacingly beneath the waves. Alton was hard at work discussing the narwhal on Mal’s forearm.
The hour was early, but Alton must have woken their houseguest a while ago to have already painted this many of the tattoos. She crossed her arms because, frankly, Emma’s heart felt in danger of flying free from her chest and landing at Mal’s feet.
He looked up and caught sight of her in the doorway. A crooked grin greeted her and the warm intimacy in his gaze sparked a flame low in her belly.
“Good morning, my love,” he said.
“Good morning. I see I’m not your first visitor.”
“Mama, the captain has drawings on him,” Alton said, eyes wide.
Emma chuckled and pushed off the doorframe into the room. “They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they?”
She sat on the end of the bed, and Mal held out the arm not being painted, inviting her closer. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for all three of them to cuddle together on one bed, she settled into her spot on his shoulder.
“Sleep well?” he asked. That delicious voice near her ear sent curls of comforting warmth through her limbs.
Emma tilted her face up and offered her lips for a brief kiss. “I know it means waiting a bit, but can we do this right? Read the banns, marry in the local church, the whole thing. I want to be your wife, without a hint of anyone in London thinking I’ve rushed you into this. I love you. I choose you now, and I’ll choose you after your court-martial is final in a few weeks. Then we can get married.”
The arm cradling her tightened, and she felt a sigh whoosh out of him. “I love you. I’m going to tell you so often, you’ll be sick of hearing it, and I hope I’ll hear it as often. As much as I want to marry you right this minute, I like the idea of finishing the court-martial and dealing with Montague before the wedding. Let’s begin our life together fresh, without any of that spoiling our happiness.”
Ah yes, because vengeful madmen didn’t stop for things like declarations of love and wedding plans. “What does he want? When does this end?” she asked.
“He demanded payment from me and I ignored it, which won’t go well with him. Calvin put his Bow Street Runners on the job of tracking the man down. Now we have a name, so it should be easier.”
“My narwhal will be pink,” declared Alton to no one in particular. Emma thought he might not have understood the conversation going on between them, but then he commented with a casual confidence only a child could have, “You were right, Mama. My new papa found us, even though we left London.”
When Mal’s breath caught, his chest stilled under her cheek, and she glanced up at him. His entire focus was on Alton, and the beginning of a smile curved his mouth. Those pale hazel eyes were wet, although a tear hadn’t bridged his lashes yet. “Yes, I found you. And I’m not going away again.”
Alton perked his head up from his painting. “What about your ship?”
Mal’s smile quirked. “I’m going to get my own ship. Then I don’t have to leave you and your mama when I want to sail.”
“So, we can go on your ship?”
Mal nodded. “As long as your mama agrees, yes. You’ll need a decent pirate name, though.”
Alton’s face scrunched in concentration. “I’ll have to think on it.”
Mrs. Shephard’s voice carried up the stairs. “Leave that be, little rascal! Those are for the family, not you.”
“I think breakfast is ready,” Emma said. “Get dressed quickly, then we will meet you downstairs.”
Alton set aside his paint case and scooted off the bed. As he left, he called out for Billy. An answering clatter of hooves sounded on the stairs.
Mal’s chuckle rumbled under her ear. “I love this house.”
“Is it everything you dreamed of when you read my journal?” she teased, sitting up to move the art supplies to the side table.
His hand cupped her cheek, then swept down her shoulder and arm to intertwine their fingers. “So much better.”
They met for a kiss that made promises for them and curled her bare toes under the edge of her wrapper.
A little breathless, he said, “Are you sure about the banns? We could get a special license.”
“And have everyone talking and watching my waistline for the next few months? No thank you.” She ran her hand through his hair. “I miss it.”
