her. ‘And, if you’ll give me the chance, I would like the time to convince you of that.’
She took a step towards him. ‘Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time already?’ She took another step.
Liam covered the short distance that was left between them, sweeping her into his arms, holding her so tightly against him he was in danger of snapping her in half. ‘I love you, Laura! I love you so much it hurts!’ He groaned into the softness of her throat. ‘I never want to be without you again!’
She could feel him shaking as she put her own arms about his waist and held him just as tightly as he was holding her. ‘You won’t be,’ she promised. ‘Not ever again!’
As his mouth claimed possession of hers, lips moving passionately against her, sipping, tasting, Liam desperate to make her a part of him, Laura knew that this time they wouldn’t be parted by anything, or anyone.
This time it was for ever…
EPILOGUE
‘OH, LOOK how tiny she is.’ Bobby glanced up excitedly at Liam as they stood side by side looking down into the tiny hospital crib. ‘Isn’t Hannah beautiful?’
Liam glanced at Laura as she lay in the hospital bed, the two of them sharing a smile of complete love as Bobby enthused about his hours-old baby sister, Hannah Mary.
‘Gorgeous. But not as beautiful as your mother,’ Liam answered Bobby huskily, raising Laura’s hand up to his mouth as he kissed the softness of her skin. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed silently.
‘When can we take her home, Mummy?’ Bobby pressed excitedly.
Laura smiled at her beloved son, so pleased that he had taken this new addition to their family so well.
She and Liam had been married for a year now—a year of complete happiness, but also of necessary adjustments for all of them. Bobby most of all. He had had to learn to share his mother with ‘Uncle Liam’. Now he had to share her with a baby sister too…
‘Tomorrow, probably,’ she answered sleepily. The labour with Hannah had been much shorter than with Bobby, but very tiring.
Liam had been with her this time, every day of her pregnancy, all through the hours of labour. As she had no doubts he would be with her every day for the rest of her life.
During Laura’s maternity leave Perry was in charge of Shipley Publishing. Liam’s book had been published three months ago, had been at the top of the bestseller list for two of those, and was looking likely to remain there for some time.
Laura knew she had never been so happy, knowing herself completely loved, and completely in love with Liam in return. And now they had a daughter as well as a son.
Liam had told her at the outset of their marriage that he thought Bobby should continue to think of him as ‘Uncle Liam’, in the hope that one day Bobby would decide to call him Daddy, simply because he wanted to. Telling Bobby the whole truth about his birth, they had decided together, could wait until he was older.
‘Can I hold her?’ Bobby asked softly. ‘Can I, Mummy?’
Laura smiled. ‘If you sit in this chair next to the bed I’m sure Dad—er, Uncle Liam will pick her up and give her to you.’ She blushed slightly at the slip she had just made.
But it was how she always thought of Liam now. He had become Bobby’s father, loved him, played with him, scolded him slightly if it were necessary, listened to him. Everything a father should do. And she knew if Robert could see them all now that he would be happy that Bobby and Laura had someone who loved them both so deeply.
‘Will you, Daddy?’ Bobby looked up almost shyly at Liam. ‘Please?’
Laura watched as Liam swallowed the lump in his throat, her own eyes swimming with tears. It was the first time Bobby had called him Daddy…
But as she watched Bobby cuddling Hannah, Liam bending solicitously over both of them, Laura knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
They were a real family now.
Complete.
Chapter One
1816, St Claire House, London
‘I have no immediate plans to marry, Hawk. Least of all some chit barely out of the schoolroom that you have deigned to pick out for for me!’
Hawk St Claire, the tenth Duke of Stourbridge, viewed his youngest brother’s angrily flushed face across the width of the leather-topped desk that dominated the library in the St Claire townhouse, his mouth twisting slightly as he noted the glitter of rebellion in Sebastian’s dark brown gaze. ‘I was merely suggesting that it is past time you thought of taking a wife.’
Lord Sebastian St Claire felt the flush deepen in his cheeks under the steely gaze of his eldest brother. But this awareness of Hawk’s displeasure in no way lessened his own determination not to be coerced into a marriage he neither sought nor wanted.
Although it was a little difficult to maintain that stand, Sebastian acknowledged inwardly, in the face of his brother’s piercingly intense gaze. A chilling gaze from eyes the colour of gold and ringed by a much darker brown, and one that had been known to almost reduce the Duke’s valet to tears on occasion, and to cause lesser peers of the realm to quake in their highly polished boots when Hawk took his place in the House.
‘Do not take that insufferably condescending tone with me, Hawk, because it won’t wash!’ Sebastian threw himself into the carved chair, facing his brother across the desk. ‘Or is it only that you have decided to turn your attentions to me because Arabella failed to secure a suitable match during her first Season?’ he added slyly, knowing that his eighteen-year-old sibling had stubbornly resisted accepting any of the marriage proposals she had received in the last few months.
He was also completely aware that Hawk had hated his role as occasional escort for their younger sister. It had resulted in the marriage-minded debutantes and their ambitious mamas seeing the unusual occurrence of the Duke of Stourbridge’s presence at balls and parties as an open invitation to pursue him!
Until, that was, Hawk had made it known, in his chillingly high-handed manner, that none of those young women met the exacting standards he set for his future Duchess!
Hawk’s mouth tightened. ‘We were not discussing a match for Arabella.’
‘Then perhaps we should have been. Or possibly Lucian?’ Sebastian mentioned their brother. ‘Although it really should be you, Hawk,’ he continued tauntingly. ‘After all, you are the Duke, and of the four of us surely the one most in need of an heir?’
At one and thirty, and over six feet tall, his brother Hawk had powerful shoulders and an athletic body that was the pride and joy of his tailor. Today he wore a black jacket which fit snugly across wide shoulders, a pale grey waistcoat and paler grey breeches above highly polished Hessians. His thick dark hair, streaked with gold, was styled with casual elegance, and beneath a wide, intelligent brow were intense golden eyes, the straight slash of a nose between
