and the ache in his chest deepened. What the devil was wrong with him that this eccentric, wonderfully individual woman affected him the way she did?
It wasn’t a question he could answer, but as they walked toward the house, there was a lightness in Devlin’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Varya was in the nursery with little Edward when Miles found her. He had yet to change and was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn on his ride with Devlin, right down to his muddy boots. At least he hoped it was mud.
His wife raked him with a critical but loving sapphire gaze. “You smell.”
Three years, and he still loved the sound of her voice—low and husky with a smooth Russian lilt.
“You like it,” he teased, taking his son from her arms. Edward was two years old and bounced back and forth between being an angel and being a holy terror. He had his mother’s eyes, which made it hard for his father to say no, and his grandfather Vladimir’s temperament, which made for some interesting power struggles between father and son.
Still, he was the most beautiful thing Miles had ever seen.
“You should be resting,” he told Varya as Edward pulled on his ear. “I do not want you wearing yourself out.”
Varya scowled and rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. She looked fine, but Miles didn’t care how she looked.
“For God’s sake, Miles. I am with child, not an invalid.”
He bounced Edward on his hip. “The doctor said you should be careful.”
The scowl deepened. Lord, she was magnificent when angry. The sharp V of her brows was as black and imposing as a raven’s wings.
“No, you said I should be careful. The doctor said I was fine.”
He could hear the edge in her voice, that irritated-female sound that meant she was more than prepared to give him a fight if he came looking for one. A change of subject was in order, because in a verbal sparring match with his wife, Miles always lost.
“Ryland said something interesting to me this morning.”
He could literally see the tension drain from her shoulders. “Oh? What was that?”
“He said Blythe was beautiful.”
Varya crossed to a small dresser with a pile of clean nappies on top of it and started putting them in the drawer. It was a job that should have been left for Edward’s nurse, but Varya was one of those rare mothers who had a difficult time allowing someone else to care for her child. “She is.”
“And interesting.”
“She is that as well.” She paused, several nappies in her hand. “Although I must give Mr. Ryland credit for seeing it this early in their acquaintance.”
Miles put his squirming son down on the rug with his toys and moved toward his wife. “So you are not surprised that a man finds my sister appealing?”
“No, why should I be? I’ve known since I first laid eyes on her that she was an amazing young woman.”
She did? “Why did you not tell me this before?”
Rolling her eyes, Varya shut the drawer and braced her hands on her full hips. In a few months her condition wouldbe impossible to hide. “You have eyes, Miles. Could you not see it yourself?”
Miles ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I’ve always been biased. Of course she is amazing. She’s my sister. I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world when I first laid eyes on her. ’Course I was ten at the time and had yet to meet you.”
That got a smile out of her—and a blush. “Flatterer. Why should it bother you that Mr. Ryland finds Blythe appealing?”
Pleased that he could still make her blush, Miles shrugged. “It does not. I think they would be a perfect match.”
“You do?” Apparently he could still surprise her as well.
“Of course I do, just as I knew she and Carny would not be.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, stepping closer so that the fullness of her breasts pressed against his torso. “So what is the problem?”
“The problem,” he growled, pulling her
It wasn’t a question he could answer, but as they walked toward the house, there was a lightness in Devlin’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Varya was in the nursery with little Edward when Miles found her. He had yet to change and was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn on his ride with Devlin, right down to his muddy boots. At least he hoped it was mud.
His wife raked him with a critical but loving sapphire gaze. “You smell.”
Three years, and he still loved the sound of her voice—low and husky with a smooth Russian lilt.
“You like it,” he teased, taking his son from her arms. Edward was two years old and bounced back and forth between being an angel and being a holy terror. He had his mother’s eyes, which made it hard for his father to say no, and his grandfather Vladimir’s temperament, which made for some interesting power struggles between father and son.
Still, he was the most beautiful thing Miles had ever seen.
“You should be resting,” he told Varya as Edward pulled on his ear. “I do not want you wearing yourself out.”
Varya scowled and rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. She looked fine, but Miles didn’t care how she looked.
“For God’s sake, Miles. I am with child, not an invalid.”
He bounced Edward on his hip. “The doctor said you should be careful.”
The scowl deepened. Lord, she was magnificent when angry. The sharp V of her brows was as black and imposing as a raven’s wings.
“No, you said I should be careful. The doctor said I was fine.”
He could hear the edge in her voice, that irritated-female sound that meant she was more than prepared to give him a fight if he came looking for one. A change of subject was in order, because in a verbal sparring match with his wife, Miles always lost.
“Ryland said something interesting to me this morning.”
He could literally see the tension drain from her shoulders. “Oh? What was that?”
“He said Blythe was beautiful.”
Varya crossed to a small dresser with a pile of clean nappies on top of it and started putting them in the drawer. It was a job that should have been left for Edward’s nurse, but Varya was one of those rare mothers who had a difficult time allowing someone else to care for her child. “She is.”
“And interesting.”
“She is that as well.” She paused, several nappies in her hand. “Although I must give Mr. Ryland credit for seeing it this early in their acquaintance.”
Miles put his squirming son down on the rug with his toys and moved toward his wife. “So you are not surprised that a man finds my sister appealing?”
“No, why should I be? I’ve known since I first laid eyes on her that she was an amazing young woman.”
She did? “Why did you not tell me this before?”
Rolling her eyes, Varya shut the drawer and braced her hands on her full hips. In a few months her condition wouldbe impossible to hide. “You have eyes, Miles. Could you not see it yourself?”
Miles ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I’ve always been biased. Of course she is amazing. She’s my sister. I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world when I first laid eyes on her. ’Course I was ten at the time and had yet to meet you.”
That got a smile out of her—and a blush. “Flatterer. Why should it bother you that Mr. Ryland finds Blythe appealing?”
Pleased that he could still make her blush, Miles shrugged. “It does not. I think they would be a perfect match.”
“You do?” Apparently he could still surprise her as well.
“Of course I do, just as I knew she and Carny would not be.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, stepping closer so that the fullness of her breasts pressed against his torso. “So what is the problem?”
“The problem,” he growled, pulling her
Similar Books
