Lord of Scoundrels

by Loretta Chase

And I told him you wanted him, too. I told him all about you—that you could be kind and amazingly understanding, but that you wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense.” He smiled. “And when we came home, the first thing Dominick saw was active, incontrovertible proof of that last. You proved that Papa was telling the truth, and Papa knows everything about everybody.”

It had been a month since she’d told him she loved him. It had been a month since she had actually invited him, instead of simply cooperating. Enthusiastic as the cooperation had been, he’d missed her brazen overtures almost as much as he’d missed the three precious words.

“I’m clay in your hands,” she breathed against his ear. “I love you madly. I want you so much.”

But he wanted no more such secrets. He could say the words now. So easy it was, when all that had been frozen and buried inside him had thawed and bubbled up, fresh as the Dartmoor streams in springtime. With a shaky laugh, he brought her head up and lightly kissed her. “Ti amo,” he said. And so ridiculously simple it was that he said it again, in English this time. “I love you, Jess.”

“It would appear that my son is an early riser,” Dain said mildly. “What did Mary feed him for breakfast, I wonder? Gunpowder?”

He laughed. “You have been surprising me, Jess, since the day I met you. Every time I turn around, something goes off in my face. If it isn’t an obscene watch or a rare icon, it’s a pistol—or my tragically misunderstood mother—or my hellion son. There have been times I’ve been convinced I didn’t marry a female, but an incendiary device. This at least makes sense.” He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “It is not in the least astounding that two people with insatiable carnal appetites have made a baby. That is perfectly natural and reasonable. It does not distress my delicate sensibilities in the least.”