Page 61 of From London, With Love
The breath went out of him. He hadn’t allowed himself to grow excited that first time, or to entertain thoughts of the child they’d share. But he couldn’t defy the surge of hope he felt now.
Hauling her up into his arms, he carried her toward the bed.
Adele landed in the middle of the mattress with a squeak, but he gave her no time to protest. Instead, he captured the gasp on her lips and kissed her until they were both dizzy.
“Malloryn!” she gasped, arching her throat back to reveal it. “It’s the middle of the day! What will the maids think?”
“That the duke adores his wife so completely that he’s lost all notion of propriety these days,” he said, returning his lips to her skin.
They lost themselves in each other, and he spent an inordinate amount of time kissing her belly before trailing his tongue lower.
Afterwards, they lay tangled in each other’s arms. Malloryn idly stroked his fingers up and down his wife’s back, enjoying the shiver that ran through her. “How was your day?”
“Hectic,” she admitted, snuggling against him. “Lena’s trying to prepare for her and Will’s forthcoming trip to Stockholm for the Russian-Scandi summit. There’s some sort of leadership squabble within the Scandinavian verwulfen clans, and she was a little concerned she was taking baby Alex into a verwulfen war. I said I may know someone who could provide some assistance for the embassy.”
“Consider it sorted,” he admitted. “Byrnes and Ingrid are going to be part of the ambassador’s party. They’ll keep an eye on things.”
A hint of tension went out of her, and he realized she’d been worried about her friend. “Is that truly wise?”
“Byrnes and Ingrid? Of course. She’s a little hotheaded, especially when it comes to verwulfen politics, but Byrnes is—”
He’d been about to say “cool and collected,” but when it came to his wife, Byrnes had a bad habit of losing his head.
“I was speaking of Ingrid’s injuries,” Adele said.
They lay still for a moment.
“The nerves in her spine have healed, the doctors tell me,” he said slowly. Ingrid had broken her back protecting Adele, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay her. Despite the veracity of the loupe virus, it had taken far longer than usual for Ingrid’s shattered nerves to reknit, and months of hard work for her to walk again, let alone anything more stimulating. Byrnes had hovered over her the entire time.
“I would hate to see her progress stalled,” Adele whispered. “Do you think it’s a little soon? What if she’s hurt again?”
The decision had vexed him for weeks. Ingrid and Byrnes were the perfect choice to infiltrate a verwulfen summit filled with both hotheaded warmongers who draped themselves in furs and carried axes, and the cold, vicious entourage of Russian blue bloods.
But he’d been there when Ingrid had forced herself to walk again.
He’d been the one she’d turned to when Byrnes wouldn’t let her do anything more strenuous than a run.
And he’d seen theneedin her eyes, when she’d picked up her weapons and faced him in the practice ring, because some part of her had feared she’d never be able to fight again.
He’d been prepared to ease her into it gently, until Ingrid almost took his throat out.
“She needs this,” he told Adele. “And I doubt she’ll be placed directly in harm’s way. Their task is purely to protect our ambassador and his wife. They’re not to get involved in any Scandinavian politics or vengeful Blood Court assassinations. They’re on protection duty only. And possibly my eyes and ears.”
“I’m sure they won’t involve themselves at all,” she replied sweetly. “Byrnes and Ingrid following your orders? Absolutely. Without doubt. There will be no involvement in any mayhem. Nobody will die in mysterious circumstances. And Britain will definitely not have to deal with the complex political ramifications of the fallout.”
He pinched her bottom. “That’s why I’m sending the rest of them.”
Adele squealed with laughter. Pressing a kiss to his throat, she stroked her fingers down his cheek. “How was the queen this morning?”
“Furious.”
“Auvry—”
“I told her she had my blessings and that he was my choice all along,” he said quickly, kissing her fingertips. “I thought about what you said, and perhaps you were right. She deserves a chance to be happy, and she looked so utterly miserable.”
“How did she take such news?”
“She called me a ‘fairy godmother,’” he admitted dryly. “She thinks I’ve taken a sudden penchant to arranging marriages.”
