He bounced ideas off her and valued her opinion. They would retire to the library with a glass of wine after she had finished the projects for her students and would simply sit and talk. More often than not, the conversation would take a turn with him making love to her.
He figured at the rate they were going, it would not be long before he planted his seed inside her.
They had not discussed the idea of children in detail, just little mentions of when it happened. Right now, he just wanted to spend time with her. The more he knew her, the more he realized that his wife was a jewel. She was caring and compassionate and was quick to lend a helping hand. He had started going with her to services. It was not as frequently as she did, but he showed up.
Whenever he did, it was always a flurry of excitement where the ladies were concerned. She did not mind their admiration andlonging looks, but he objected to the various male members who showed any sort of interest in her, however mild.
"That guy was touching you way too much," he would comment with a glower, the minute they were on their way home. "And don't think I didn't notice that one with the moustache who found every damned excuse to touch your arm on the pretext of asking your advice."
She would always try and tease him out of his jealousy and what she discovered to her surprise, his insecurities.
By six weeks' time she was pregnant.
Chapter 12
"So, how was your day?" he asked as he wrestled with the noose around his neck. Finally, ridding himself of it, he tossed it aside and ran a weary hand at the back of his neck.
"Let's start with yours. How about a drink, you look like you could use it."
His smile came quickly. She was playing the part of the dedicated wife to the hilt and he liked it. It might sound perverse and purely sexist, but he liked the idea of coming home to her. And seeing her decked out in a slinky crimson robe that highlighted her assets.
At this time of the evening, they were quite alone. He had every intention of taking complete advantage of it.
"Scotch, straight. Thanks." He finished undressing, watching as she made her way towards the recessed bar adjacent to the huge fireplace in their bedroom. The spring air was cool enough for her to leave the glass doors leading to the balcony open.
Dragging on a robe, he sat on the padded sofa and pleasured himself by watching her cross the room, the silk of the material sliding against her subtle curves.
"Thanks. Sit." He patted his lap and was surprised and a little disappointed when she chose to perch next to him.
"You were about to tell me about your day."
Eyeing her over the glass, he studied her face for a minute before launching into a discussion about the snarl of red tape that was making things progress slower than expected.
"Not a lot of people want to invest or take a chance on the so-called small businesses. And the business owners are rightfully suspicious." He took another sip and shook his head. "We're known for funding big businesses and that has been our reputation for more than two hundred years." He shrugged.
"But you're not going to allow that to stop you."
Her quiet reassurance had him smiling at her. "Absolutely not. Nor am I going to allow the fact that my father thinks I'm a certified lunatic for caring about these people, as he puts it, turn me off." He grimaced as he recalled the argument in his father's office.
He had a feeling that it was not the business venture so much as the fact that Dean had changed his ways. The man had lovedthe idea of him being a playboy. It had made him proud and validated his manhood in some kind of sick and convoluted way.
"Anyway." He snagged her wrist with the intention of drawing her closer. A frown touched his brow when she evaded and rose.
"Darling?"
"More scotch?"
He deliberately put the glass down and focused on her.
"You might as well spill it. I can see that something is wrong. Is it the play? I knew I promised to be there, but I couldn't get away. How was it?"
"It went well and I understood you not being there."
"So, what's the problem?" Alarm skittered across his face. "Are you ill?"
"No." She took a deep breath. "Not exactly."
"Catherine, dammit, you're officially scaring me now."