“Cora?” he called.

I shoved my hand under the pillow and pulled out my nightie, saying softly, “Just a minute.”

Luckily, with only a searching look at me, he let it go. I pulled the nightie on while he rolled off the bed to disrobe. Then I sat on the side of the bed, took off my sandals and dashed to the bathroom to grab the white stick with the pink plus sign on it. Then I dashed out of the bathroom to the kitchen being certain not to look at him on the way and also trying not to hyperventilate because I was nervous. In the kitchen, I lit the two birthday candles on the top (one pink, one blue – he wanted a son but Lord knew, at this point, it was a fifty-fifty shot). Then I walked the cake slowly back to my room.

When I got close to the bed, I saw Tor was sitting up in it, his eyes I could see by the minimal candlelight were not on the cake. They were on me.

And they were burning.

“Love,” he whispered, his deep voice strange, like there was an ache in it.

I sat on the bed and held the cake between us. His eyes finally went to the cake.

Then they came back to mine and there it was. Definitely an ache.

“You did not need to do this to apologize,” he said softly then his eyes went back to the cake and I understood the ache. He was remembering the last time I walked into a room with one. “Especially not this,” he finished.

“Honey,” I replied quietly, “I didn’t make it as an apology. I made it for a celebration.”

He looked at me. “Pardon?”

I balanced the cake on one hand and lifted the white stick with the other.

“In my world, you can buy pregnancy tests at the drugstore. When you left, I bought one, took it and –”

Just like that, the cake was whisked out of my hand and the candles flickering out as it was swiftly deposited on the nightstand. Then the white stick was yanked out of my other hand and Tor tossed it to the floor.

Then I was on my back with Tor’s body covering mine.

His hands framed my face. “It is confirmed, you’re carrying my child,” he declared.

“Uh… yes,” I whispered.

“And you feel this is cause for celebration,” he noted, his voice husky.

“Um… I’m scared,” I whispered my confession. “But… uh… yes,” I agreed shakily.

I barely got the “s” out on “yes” when Tor’s mouth slammed down on mine and he kissed me, deep, wet, rough and thorough and while he was doing it, his arms closed around me and he rolled so I was on top.

His hands went into my nightie, yanking it up and I had to break free of his mouth when he pulled it over my head.

“Tor, the cake –” I started.

One of his hands fisted in my hair, the other one curled into the flesh of one of the cheeks of my bottom.

“We’ll have it for breakfast,” he replied.

“You can’t eat cake –”

His fingers on my ass flexed. “Quiet.”

“But –”

He rolled again so he was on top, shifting his h*ps insistently until I opened my legs and his h*ps fell between.

“Quiet,” he repeated on a growl, “I’m about to f**k my wife and the only words I want her saying when I do it are ‘yes’, ‘Tor’, ‘my prince’, ‘baby’ and ‘oh my God’. Am I understood?”

God, he was bossy.

“God, you’re bossy,” I snapped.

He slid inside me and my neck arched.

Damn, but I loved the feel of him inside me.

“Cora, am I understood?”

“You’re understood,” I breathed.

His mouth came to mine and he whispered, “Good.”

Then he kissed me and started to move and for the next half an hour the only words I said were “yes”, “Tor”, “my prince”, “baby,” and “oh my God”.

* * *

Weak sun was touching the sky as my eyes drifted closed and sleep started to claim me.

“Sweets?” Tor called and my only answer was to press closer. He nevertheless heard my answer loud and clear and kept talking. “That cake was superb.”

My eyes opened and I saw the wall of his chest.

He’d made love to me then I’d gone to the kitchen, got a knife, cut a slice of cake and fed him with my fingers. Then I cut another one and he fed me. Then I licked his fingers clean. His eyes watched my mouth through every second of me doing it, they darkened in a way that was too sexy for words and when his fingers were clean, he made love to me again.

Now I’d had four orgasms, a piece of damn good cake (even if I did say so myself) and the man I loved was in my arms. And, according to my mother and finally paying attention, it appeared the man I loved was both devoted to me and adored me.

All was not right in my world but all was pretty freaking great in my now.

I slid my hand through the hair on his chest and replied quietly, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“‘Like’,” he muttered on a squeeze of the arms he held me with, “is not the word I’d choose.”

I didn’t think he was talking about just the cake.

I smiled against his chest and my eyes started to drift closed.

“Cora?” he called again.

“Yes, baby,” I whispered, not opening my eyes.

“Who are you?” he whispered back.

“Your wife,” I answered sleepily and burrowed closer.

“Bloody right,” he muttered and I smiled again then drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Only Hope We Have

The loud banging at the front door jolted both of us awake.

I blinked, rolled out of Tor’s strong arms and away from his warm body, feeling like I had an hour’s sleep (which, with a glance at the bedside clock, was close to the truth).

Tor had a different reaction.

He threw back the covers and growled, “By the gods, what the bloody hell now?”

With sleepy fascination, I watched him pull up a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms then, still with sleepy fascination, I watched him prowl toward the door then I suddenly was not sleepy or fascinated anymore because I instantly freaked out, threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and snapped, “Tor! Where are you going?”

He stopped and turned his head to me and I started searching for my nightgown and panties, found them on the floor and tugged the panties on in a flurry of motion, my head tilted back to look at Tor when he spoke.

“I’m getting the bloody door.”

I pulled down my nightgown only to see he’d resumed prowling and was out the bedroom door.