Rory frowned. “You understood when I said nap, I didn’t really meannap.”
“Neither did I.”
He followed her into the nursery, where she sat in her rocking chair and unfastened her bodice so the fussing baby might suckle. The nurse stepped outside, giving them privacy, and Rory admired the curve of Genevieve’s cheek as she looked down at the baby in her arms. He might have also admired the swell of her breasts, very full and lush now, with large, dark red nipples.
When the baby had fallen into a milk-induced sleep, she called the nurse back and handed him over. Then she took Rory’s hand and led him to his bedchamber. Closing the doorbehind her, she reached for her bodice again, and Rory’s mouth went dry as her breasts were freed.
“And here I thought you liked my derriere,” she said.
“I like that too,” he admitted. “I like all of you. Come here.” He finished undressing her, taking the time to explore every one of her new curves. And when he was inside her, her back arched to meet him, and her moans growing almost loud enough that they might be heard, he thought, not for the first time in these past few weeks, that sometimes a curse could be a blessing.
And he had been blessed beyond measure.
