A Precious Jewel (31 page)

“No,” she said, turning anyway in his arms and watching him look down in wonder and delight at the bulk that came between them. “Just a few too many cream cakes, Gerald. And jam tarts, of course. I never could resist a jam tart.”

He set his arms gently about her, afraid of hurting her, afraid of squashing their baby, and kissed her.

A
ND IT WAS
a very good thing, too, he told her several hours later when he lay behind her in her bed at the cottage, supporting her aching back against his own body, his arms about her, one hand spread again over her bulk—it was a very good thing she said yes. By the time they arrived at the church, it had been half filled with smiling, nodding villagers—almost all of them elderly.

“A very good thing, Priss,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her curls. “I have the strong feeling that they would all have been severely disappointed if you had said no.”

“I am glad you told them all that we would stay here for the birth of the baby, Gerald,” she said. “The baby belongs to this village almost as much as to us.”

“We will bring him down on his birthday every year,” he said. “And maybe once or twice more each year, too. Time to sleep now, Priss. You must need plenty of rest.”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh of contentment, turning
her head to kiss his arm beneath it. “Gerald, I am so very, very happy.”

“Are you?” he said. “Are you really, Priss? I still can’t quite believe what a lucky devil I am.”

She sighed again.

“Good night, Lady Stapleton,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, I am, aren’t I? How strange and how lovely it sounds. Lady Stapleton! Good night, Gerald.”