trying to search out the perfect bush. There wasn’t much of a selection for him.”
John leaned down and kissed me, not a light, friendly kiss this time, but one
that was deep and made me hungry, so very hungry for him. I felt his hand slip
inside my gown, touch me, make me want to howl with the glorious pleasure of it.
I whispered into his mouth, “I think I would like to throw you down on the
carpet, my lord, right now.”
“I pray you will never lessen your demands, Andy. Never.” He laughed as he rose,
carried me in his arms back into our bedchamber, George on our heels, wuffing
with every step, his tail high, wagging.
Epilogue
One Year Later Devbridge Manor Yorkshire, England
My husband and my dog became proud fathers within a week of each other. On the
day after Easter, Miss Bennington, a Scottish terrier so cute that it was hard
to stop squeezing her whenever she came near enough for you to grab her,
delivered five small balls of fur in the immense basket that sat near the
fireplace in our large suite. George stood watch the entire time, occasionally
yelping right along with Miss Bennington as she struggled to birth yet another
pup. When it was all over, I swear that Miss Bennington looked fit to kill poor
George for his part in the matter.
“I fear there is a lesson in this,” I said to John, and I wasn’t wrong about
that, more’s the pity. Not even six days later, I was felled by the most ghastly
pain I could have ever imagined. John, like George, stayed with me. I remember
telling him if he left me, I would have George relieve himself on all of his new
cravats that I had made him for his birthday. I cursed him, but it was paltry
because I kept having to repeat myself?but I was loud.
I had nearly shouted myself hoarse when Jarrod Franklin Lyndhurst finally
decided to make his entrance into the world. I heard him howl when Dr. Boulder
smacked his small buttocks. I heard John’s voice, so pleased he sounded ready to
explode with the wonder of it all. He kissed me and thanked me for his son. “I’m
the one who did all the work,” I whispered. “Thus, he is my son.” His kisses and
his laughter washed over me, and I smiled even as I fell into a deep sleep.
All in all, holding my tiny son the next day, I decided it hadn’t been all that
bad. I was perpetuating a lie, Mrs. Redbreast told me sadly, shaking her head.
Yes, she said, all the little mites that were our sons and daughters would make
us forget, and then we would do it again. Now, there was something to consider.
My father was here at Devbridge Manor on one of his long visits. It moved me
unbearably to see him holding his grandson. When he called Judith in to see her
nephew, she smiled at the baby, but immediately came to me.
“You are all right, Andy?”
“I am perfect,” I said.
“I heard you, it was awful.”
“Yes, but it’s over now, and we have Jarrod. What do you think, Judith? Does he
look like me or like John?”
“He looks just like his grandfather,” my father called out. “Come here,
sweetheart, and behold your papa when he was just a babe.”
And Judith laughed, at ease now with her father. We had told her no lies, hadn’t
shaded the truth for Judith. No, she wanted to know everything, and so we told
her. She was very quiet for a very long time. Finally, she walked up to her
father, looked up at him thoughtfully and said, “You cannot be all bad, sir. You
are also Andy’s father, and she turned into a very fine sister to me.”
And they progressed from that very strange beginning.
As for Thomas and Amelia, they had spent Easter with us as well, but had left
the day before Jarrod decided it was time to present himself to his proud
parents. The previous spring they had moved to Sussex, to Danvers Grange, the