Page 14 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

He took her chin and tilted her to face him, his expression unexpectedly stern and even more domineering than usual. “As it happens, I love your body.”

Phoebe’s breathing quickened beneath his piercing gaze, and she couldn’t look away.

His eyelids lowered slightly, and he set his free hand on her belly and caressed her, a slow, sensual smile spreading across his face. “I intend to put you in this condition as often as is safe for you.”

“Paul!”

He kissed her lingeringly. “You don’t know that you are perfect, do you?”

She gave a scoffing laugh. “You are the only one who thinks so.”

“I am the only one who matters.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, caressing his jaw, the love she felt for him so overwhelming it sometimes scared her.

He was leaning down to kiss her again when the library door banged open.

Both their heads whipped up.

“Papa?”

Phoebe clambered off her husband’s lap—or at least tried to, but Paul kept her in place easily with one arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” Lucy said. “I can come back later and—”

“You did not interrupt anything,” Phoebe lied.

“Come and sit.” Paul gestured to the chair that Phoebe had briefly occupied.

Phoebe tried to get up, but Paul continued to hold her.

Lucy did not appear to find it odd that Phoebe was sitting on Paul’s lap. As usual, Silas’s glittering black eyes peeked out from the curtain of Lucy’s curly blonde hair.

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” Paul asked his daughter.

“Miss Capshaw wants me to go into the village with her, but—” she broke off and slid Phoebe a shy look. “But I didn’t want to miss Doddy’s arrival—because Silas is so excited and misses him,” she added, blushing fierily. “Do you know what time he might get here?”

“Not until much later, sweetheart,” Paul assured her. “You can go with your governess and still be home in time to meet his carriage.”

“Oh, good. Miss Capshaw is taking me for my last fitting.” She turned to Phoebe. “It is the pale pink gown, Phoebe—the one you suggested—and it will be ready just in time for the Christmas fete.”

“Excellent! It is perfect for your first dance,” Phoebe said.

Although Lucy was not yet fourteen, she would not be the only one her age at the dance, which was part of the annual village Christmas celebration and occurred early enough in the day to be more of a family gathering than a traditional assembly.

“Miss Capshaw said that I must ask you whether I could purchase proper gloves, Papa.” Lucy’s huge blue eyes, so much like Ellen’s, fixed on Paul. “Please,” she added softly.

“Proper gloves?” Paul repeated, obviously confused.

“Yes—long ones. The sort ladies wear to balls.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “I am not sure—”

“Please, Papa,” she wheedled.

Paul turned to Phoebe. “What do you think?”

“It is true that she is young, but you will be there. I think, under the circumstances, it would be unexceptionable.”