Page 93 of Along Came a Rogue

“So small, yet so perfect,” he whispered. He drew his fingertip along the curve of the baby’s chin. When he touched the pink lips, the baby opened his mouth and instinctively tried to suckle his finger.

She heard him catch his breath, saw the mix of love, pride, and utter amazement flash across his face. Her heart melted with overwhelming love, that something this small, this helpless and vulnerable, could stir such emotion in him.

He blinked hard and cleared his throat. “Have you given him a name?”

“Stephen.”

“Stephen,” he repeated quietly. “Edward Westover had an older brother named Stephen.”

“Kate told me. Do you think Edward will mind?”

“Not at all. Stephen was a good man, and he deserves to be remembered. It’s a fine name…Hello, Stephen.”

The baby’s tiny hand clasped around Grey’s finger, and he made a soft mewling sound in his sleep.

Grey chuckled. “I think he likes it.”

“Good.” She nodded, adjusting a tiny bootie on the baby’s foot. “Family is important.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed in a soft murmur, an odd tone to his voice she couldn’t quite place.

“He has Thomas for an uncle, and I would like Edward and Kate Westover to be his godparents.”

“They’ll be honored,” he assured her.

She paused in her fussing with the bootie to flick her gaze up to his for only a beat before returning to her son. “When I said surrounded by family, I did not necessarily mean my parents, you understand.”

He laughed and shifted to slip his arm behind her, finding a way to hold both of them in his arms. He placed a soft kiss at her temple.

“As for the baptism, I’m certain my mother will insist it be held in St. Paul’s, but I know she won’t understand when the bishop calls out Stephen’s name. Family is important,” she repeated for emphasis, “and so he is being named after his family.” She whispered, finally raising her eyes to his. “Stephen Nathaniel Crenshaw.”

His lips parted in stunned surprise. “Emily—”

“I thought that I could let you go, that letting you go to Spain was the best choice for you,” she rushed out quickly, “but I was wrong. When I asked for you last night after the baby was born and you weren’t here—I couldn’t bear it, Grey.” She reached for his hand as it rested on the mattress beside her, her trembling fingers lacing through his. “I need you, Stephen needs you…and you need us.”

She leaned forward to touch her lips to his, closing her eyes as she willed with every ounce of strength left inside her for him to realize how much she loved him, how much she and her son needed him. How she couldn’t tolerate the thought that the sun might rise tomorrow to find him far away from her.

For a moment, he didn’t move, and then his lips began to gently caress hers. His mouth slid along her jaw to her ear before he shifted away from her.

“I didn’t mean to upset you last night.” He looked down at the baby and ran his hand over Stephen’s smooth head. “I wanted to be here, but there was a woman I had to find.”

“Oh.” A woman. A hollow pain panged in her chest. She gave a soft sniff and tried to hide the jealousy that flashed white-hot through her.

He grinned. “My grandmother.”

Her heart skipped, not understanding. “Grandmother?”

With a firm nod, he withdrew a folded paper from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

She stared at the note, barely able to breathe from the stunned surprise cascading through her in waves. “What is that?” she whispered.

“A birthday gift for you and Stephen.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Read it.”

With trembling fingers, sensing the enormity of the moment, she took the note and read the elegant handwriting. A single sentence with a signature beneath…A gasp tore from her throat. This was impossible!

Her eyes flew up to his, her fingers tightening against the note so hard she wrinkled the paper. She fixed her gaze on his face, on trying to find sense in what he was showing her.

“Viscount Henley?” she breathed.