Page 87 of What a Lord Wants

“Yes, you are,” she agreed chokingly, overcome by roiling emotions.

He quirked a half-grin at that, accepting her admonishment. Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her.

“In the past few months, you’ve become more than my model, more than my marchioness and wife. You’ve become my inspiration.” Not breaking his gaze from hers, he stroked his knuckles across her cheek, eliciting a soft tremor from her. “When I paint now, I paint for you. I see your face, hear your voice…With every brushstroke it’s you that I want to please with my art.You, Eve. I can’t go forward, as a man or an artist, without you.”

She didn’t move, didn’t speak—she didn’t dare to let hope find purchase inside her for fear of being wounded again.

“You wanted my heart. Well, you have it, darling. Youalwayshave. I was just too damned foolish to see it. But I plan to do everything in my power to show you how much you mean to me.” A promise underscored his words, one that stirred a heated ache between her legs. “Starting tonight.”

Without warning, he lifted her into his arms and carried her quickly toward his bedroom. She threw her arms around his neck with a startled gasp, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. He kicked closed the door behind them and paused only to throw the lock before carrying her to the bed.

She grabbed at his waistcoat as he followed down after her. “We can’t!”

“Oh, I think we can.” He grinned at that challenge and captured her mouth beneath his, in a kiss filled with so much yearning and desire that she whimpered. Her body ached for his, even though she knew they couldn’t do this. But he didn’t know—because she’d been too cowardly to tell him.

She twisted her mouth away from his and shoved her palms against his chest to hold him away. “No.”

He stilled immediately, searching her face for answers. “You will never again be second to my art, I promise you. You come first now, Eve, in everything.” Misunderstanding her reaction, he tenderly smoothed her hair away from her forehead. “I was a damned fool to think I could keep you apart from it.”

She blinked rapidly, knowing how much that admission cost him. She could choke out nothing more around the knot of emotions in her throat than his name.

“So forgive me.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then to each of her eyelids. “Swallow your pride,mia bella, the way I’ve swallowed mine.” Another touch of his lips, this time to her throat, where her pulse danced so wildly beneath his lips that he groaned. “And take me back as your husband.”

His mouth found hers, and the kiss he gave her was filled with so much love and promise for the future that she melted. She wanted nothing more than for him to make love to her. Every inch of her throbbed and hummed for just that, to have him inside her, to join bodies and feel whole again—

She tore her mouth away with a frustrated groan. “No, you don’t understand. We can’t because…” She inhaled a deep breath and lowered her gaze to his chest, dreading how he might accept the news—“I’menceinte.”

Dom stared down at her, stunned.Good God. She was with child?

“I wanted to tell you, that day I went to the studio,” she admitted, her faint voice filled with remorse. “But everything was so…wrong between us. And then later, I didn’t want to distract you from your painting. I’d already ruined the first painting you wanted to claim as your own. If I ruined a second one…”

His heart broke in two, not knowing whether to weep for the pain he’d caused her or soar for joy at the news. So he lowered his head and kissed her.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” In the end, she’d proved to be his salvation. But a baby…He rested a trembling hand on her belly and felt the small bump beneath his palm, and the invisible connection that stretched between them grew stronger.

“Are you happy about it?” Distress colored her voice.

“I am beyond happy.” But that didn’t seem to console her. He touched her cheek to reassure her. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”

She dropped her gaze to his chest and to his waistcoat buttons as she nervously played with them. The sudden change in her was palpable. And stunning, because she should have been beaming with happiness, so thrilled that she should have been bouncing in his arms—

Instead, she looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

“The timing of it…” she whispered. “This baby will change everything.”

“Yes, it will.”

When she stopped toying with the buttons, her fingers still trembled against his chest. If the lamps had been lit, he was certain she’d be as pale as a ghost.

Then she breathed out, so softly that he barely heard, “It will cause problems for your art.”

That whisper sliced into him like a bayonet. He understood now why she’d not told him before, and the self-recrimination branded him for a damn fool. Because he’d led her to believe the exact same thing about her.

Scolding himself for being so blind, he took her hand from his chest and raised it to his lips to place a reassuring kiss to her palm.

“This baby will never cause problems for us.” Her eyes widened at the firm insistence with which he pledged that, then softened with disbelief. “And even if it does, I don’t care. Because this baby—and you—are my primary concerns now.”

Lead with your heart, and the art will follow…When she started to argue, he kissed her, silencing whatever challenge she’d been about to unleash.