‘Papa! Papa!’
Dieudonné pulled and tugged at André’s finger as if he were doing his best to wrench it off his hand.
‘Not so hard, mon fils,’ André admonished him in a good-natured, if slightly pained way, as he followed the boy’s tiny footsteps down the long hallway. ‘Do you want to maim me?’
The boy said nothing but continued to tug him along. ‘Give gift,’ he said. ‘Today.’
It was the first of April, when it was tradition to give gifts to family members and friends.
‘I know, mon fils.’
Although André said the words in a slight breath of laughter at Dieudonné’s impatience, the amusement soon died away and his heart nearly turned over his chest.
His son.
Over the course of the past few months, André had fully come to embrace his role as the father of Thierry’s son. His son. Because he couldn’t possibly love him any more than he did.
‘I’dora!’ Dieudonné called out as they neared the door of his wife’s bedchamber. Although it had only been an hour since the last time he’d seen her, it already seemed like it was too long.
‘Come in, Dieudonné,’ André heard Isadora call through the door that was ajar.
Both he and Dieudonné gasped at the same time. Then, they shared a look of understanding, from one male to another. It didn’t matter that André was a man and Dieudonné a young boy.
They were bonded by the love they had for Isadora.
Dieudonné pulled away at the last few feet and ran to the door, pushing it open further and dashing inside out of André’s sight. He shook his head at the child’s antics.
When he entered Isadora’s bedchamber, his breath caught in the centre of his throat. Sunlight spilled from the window above the vanity, casting its full brilliance upon her. Dressed in a house gown patterned with bright flowers, reminiscent of the bold colours of Saint-Domingue, she looked like an ethereal flower.
Nearing her, he saw the answering light of love in her topaz gaze as her eyes shimmered like a pair of gems. Her lovely, sweet mouth which gave him intoxicating honey kisses and caresses curved into a gentle smile.
‘What took you so long?’ she asked as she reached out and grabbed the powdering cape to place around her shoulders.
‘This little one has a present to give to you.’
Dieudonné beamed, his toothy grin making him especially handsome and mischievous.
‘’Dora, look!’
Isadora glanced down at Dieudonné to see he was giving her a clutch of flowers he had hidden—well, not really but he didn’t need to know that—and she made all the appropriate sounds of pleasure.
‘Merci, mon petit,’ she said, taking the small bundle of flowers and taking a great inhale. ‘They smell wonderful, Dieudonné.’
The boy giggled and lurched forward, hugging her in his tiny arms as much as he could. His eyes closed in a kind of bliss. André could sympathise with the boy’s feelings. Even in the quiet dark of his bedchamber, when their bodies were naked and connected in the most intimate of ways, his emotions would sometimes overwhelm him.
He never thought he could be this happy, but he was.
It wasn’t until a few days after their marriage that they’d received word of devastating news for Isadora. An earthquake had ripped through Saint-Domingue, destroying most of the buildings in the capital city of Port-au-Prince. Baron de Beauchêne had perished along with thousands of others.
When she’d heard, she had looked at him, with tears in her eyes. ‘Stéphane didn’t care for me as a father should. So why am I crying?’
‘Because you loved him, ma bijou, flaws and all.’
André had held her close while she’d cried. The Baron had been the last connection to her old life in Saint-Domingue and now her home truly was with him.
‘Maman.’
André came out of his musings in shock. His eyes locked with Isadora’s as they realised what Dieudonné had said.
He’d called Isadora ‘Maman’.
Mon Dieu!
Isadora’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached out and gathered Dieudonné into her arms, showering his face with kisses and tears as she rocked him back and forth, whispering repeatedly, ‘Mon fils.’
He already called André ‘Papa’, but Isadora had never expected Dieudonné to call her Maman. Yet he had, and there was nothing André, nor Isadora would do to change that. He was their son for all intents and purposes.
They’d created this family, and no one was going to shatter it.
Dieudonné, growing impatient, not realising the life-altering thing he’d done, pushed away from Isadora’s hold.
‘Too many kisses,’ he grumbled, wiping at his face.
André grinned and bent his mouth to Isadora’s shell-like ear. ‘Not for his father,’ he whispered.
A delightful blush spread across Isadora’s cheeks, bringing her freckles into view. He longed to kiss every single one.
‘Madame la Marquise, I—Oh!’
Jacqueline had come to the doorway. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘You didn’t, Jacqueline,’ Isadora said as André straightened. ‘What do you need?’
‘Does madame wish for me to do your hair?’
‘Not today, Jacqueline. Please, take Dieudonné to the nursery, won’t you? I’ll be there soon.’
Before long, they were alone, and André wasted no time grabbing Isadora up into his arms. ‘Unlike my son, I haven’t had enough kisses.’
‘Oh?’ Isadora said with a playful gleam in her eyes.
‘Never enough,’ he replied hoarsely, taking her chin, and angling her head before he brought his mouth down to hers.
Although it hadn’t been too long since he’d kissed her, it felt as new as the first time. The same sweeping feelings of discovery, want and desire, mixed with that incredible emotion of a love so deep it was bottomless, threatened to overwhelm him by its depth.
She moaned a little, a husky sound that never ceased to drive him mad. He let go of his restraint and plundered her mouth in that rough way he knew she enjoyed. Her lips parted beneath the fierceness of his own passion.
When he let her up for air, he trailed kisses along her jawline and downward, nipping, sipping and kissing the prominent vein along the column of her neck, coming to rest at the spot where he often laid his head, and inhaled her sweet fragrance.
‘Oh, André,’ she shuddered violently as he grazed his teeth against that spot. ‘You mustn’t.’
‘Why not?’ he asked, moving down further to her collarbone.
‘Because...’ she answered breathlessly, and then let out a strangled cry as André bit again at her sensitive skin.
‘Because?’ he encouraged her, trailing more kisses along her clavicle.
‘I must talk to you about...about...?’
‘I can think of a thousand things I’d rather be doing right now than talking,’ he growled and nipped at her skin once more, punishing her for stopping him with her logic. ‘And all of them to this delightful body of yours.’
She groaned and using her small but surprisingly strong hands, pulled his mouth back to hers.
For a long while, there was nothing but their passion, building and swelling. André prayed that they would always be this way. Insatiable. Finally, with an almost Herculean strength, André pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead on top of Isadora’s.
‘You’re a temptress,’ he gulped out.
She gave a shaky, breathless laugh. ‘Only to you. But I wonder, will you still think of me in that manner when I tell you that Dieudonné will soon have a brother or sister?’
André froze. ‘What?’
Her golden eyes were swimming in tears. ‘You’re going to be a father. Again.’
The strength went out of his legs and he collapsed onto a nearby chair. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I am. I suspected so last month, when I didn’t experience my flows, but I waited until I was sure.’
He dropped to his knees and fell before her. Reverently, he looked at his wife, wondering if a man could die from happiness. Ever since she had come into his life, she only gave him more joy. And now this.
Tears eked out of the corners of his eyes, and he gripped her hands and planted kisses upon the back of them. If he gave in to his desire, to consummate their joy now, there was a chance it would be interrupted.
And the last thing he wanted when that happened was to stop. Everything he felt for her rose inside him like an ocean of feeling. ‘I love you and I will do so till the day I die and afterwards.’
‘Oh, André! I love you, too. And the day you die, may it be my last for I cannot live without you.’
At that moment, the door burst open, and Dieudonné darted inside. ‘Papa! Maman!’
‘I’m sorry, Madame la Marquise, he got away from me again.’
‘It’s all right,’ Isadora said with a smile as Dieudonné jumped into André’s arms.
‘Want be with Papa and Maman,’ Dieudonné said decisively as he patted André’s cheeks.
Isadora shared a look with André. Then, he shifted his son until he had one arm around him and the other around Isadora. With all the love in his heart, André sent a silent prayer to the heavens, thanking his brother for this wonderful gift.
A family of his own.
‘That’s all right, mon fils. We want to be with you, too.’
His eyes locked onto Isadora and he put all his love, desire and hope for the future into words.
‘For ever.’
If you enjoyed this story,
then make sure to read
Parker J. Cole’s brilliant debut!
The Duke’s Defiant Cinderella
Keep reading for an excerpt from Least Likely to Win a Duke by Emily E K Murdoch.