Again Patrick shied away from talking about Sophie’s feelings for Braddon. Yes, they had to talk—but time enough when she was well and when he himself felt less battered. Then he could bear to hear her tell him about Braddon. The important thing was that Sophie wanted him, Patrick, in her bed.

Patrick bent his head, pressing butterfly kisses all along the line of Sophie’s jaw. “I was an idiot,” he admitted, achingly. “Will you forgive me? Will you let me sleep with you for the next sixty years or so, Sophie mine?”

Sophie’s small hand slipped up Patrick’s cheek. “Yes. Oh yes.” She turned her head a fraction of an inch and his mouth hovered above hers, just hovered until she gave a little lurch forward and brought her soft lips up to his. It was a kiss not without passion, but more about love.

Finally Patrick drew back, looking down at her drenched eyes. “There’s one thing I have to tell you, Sophie.”

She swallowed and nodded, small teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

“I do want children. I wanted this baby more than I can say.”

There was a heartbeat’s silence.

“Then why were you so cruel? Why did you say those things?”

“My mother.” Patrick paused and cleared his throat. “After my mother died, I didn’t ever want to make some-one—my wife—go through that pain, perhaps not even survive. I know it’s not rational, but after she died, Alex and I were alone. We had no home to go to. During school breaks we went to whoever would take us. It was better than going back to that empty huge house. I swore never to have children. And I never wanted them until I met you.”

Sophie wound her arms around Patrick’s neck and gave him a silent hug. “Alex and I were alone” spoke eloquently of the life of children brought up by servants.

“But I would love to have children with you,” Patrick whispered, his voice roughly tender. “We’ll have another babe, Sophie. I’m not saying that I will stop fearing for you, but we can have as many as you want—three or four, even ten.” His voice took on a teasing lilt, remembering Sophie’s vow to Braddon that she wanted ten children.

Sophie pressed silent kisses into his neck. She was afraid to speak, afraid that she’d blurt out hysterical vows of love. Patrick had said he lusted for her, and he didn’t want to sleep with other women. He’d said that he wanted to have children. That was enough; that was enough.

“I love you,” she whispered, unable to stop herself from saying the words. “I love you.”

Patrick drew back a little and raised her chin. “You don’t have to say that, Sophie. I know how you feel. We’ll have more babies.”