The Earl in My Bed: A Forgotten Princesses Valentine Novella by Sophie Jordan Page A

was in front of him, her hands seizing his face, dragging his mouth down to hers. She kissed him fiercely, whispering feverishly against his lips, “I do love you. I love you, Jamie.”
    Something broke loose inside him. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet.
    “Oh, Jamie, I do love you . . .” A shudder racked him as her lips spoke the sweet words against his mouth.
    “When I first saw you outside the manor . . . I think I knew then.” He chuckled against her lips. “Or perhaps it was the slap. That might have woken me to the fact that I’ve always been a little bit in love with you. Even before India. When we were children.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” She lifted her head to demand, the indignant light returning to her dark eyes. “We could have saved ourselves time.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” he countered, his lips lifting in a smile.
    She shook her head, her pale hair a floating nimbus around her. She looked like an angel. His angel. His salvation. “Because I’m a fool.”
    “Well, I’m a fool, too,” he said. “I didn’t think I had a right to love you.”
    She smiled deeply. “Then we really are perfect for each other, aren’t we? Because I didn’t think you could love me.”
    “How could I not love you?” He nuzzled her neck, reveling in the sweet softness of her skin just below her ear. “I adore you, Paget Ellsworth.”
    She trailed her fingers through his hair. “Owen is a good person,” she replied rather breathlessly as he placed an open-mouthed kiss right beside her ear. “He won’t begrudge us. He’ll understand.”
    He knew the words stemmed from her worry that Owen very well might begrudge them. That he might not ever understand. A great sigh eased from him as love for her flowed through him, free and fearless. “He’ll have to. Because I love you, and nothing on this earth will ever make me sorry for that.”
    She smiled deeply. “That makes two of us.”

 
    E PILOGUE
----
    One year later . . .
    P aget turned the page of her book and smiled as her husband’s hand idly caressed the slight swell to her belly. A log popped in the great hearth, crumbling with a spray of sparks. The wind howled against the windows. Inside the warm library, curled upon the soft fur rug with the man she loved, she had never felt so safe and content. Every day was this—as though nothing could touch the perfection of her world.
    Jamie sat with his back propped against the couch, long legs stretched out before him. She rested her head on his lap and tried to focus on the page before her and not on the distracting man that filled her head with all manner of thoughts . . . thoughts far more appealing than the book of poetry in her hands.
    Her gaze slid up from the page she was reading to glance at Jamie. As though he felt her gaze, his gaze drifted from the newspaper he was reading to look down at her.
    “Is your leg numb yet?” she inquired.
    “No, I like you here.”
    She covered his hand where it curved around her belly, around their child. She smiled up at him invitingly, turning her cheek against his thigh. “You know . . . I can think of something else for us to do on a cold winter afternoon.”
    His sea-blue eyes darkened and he bent his head, taking her lips in a hot kiss.
    A knock at the door brought his head back up with a growl.
    “Come in,” he called.
    Mr. Jarvis stepped inside the room, his stiff form bearing a tray. “I thought you might wish to read the day’s post, my lord.”
    His joints creaked as he moved forward, proffering the tray. Jamie accepted the several envelopes. Jarvis slipped from the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
    “Now,” Paget purred. “Where were we?” Her hand circled around her husband’s neck to pull him back down, but something in his expression stopped her. “What is it?”
    She followed his gaze to the letter sitting on top of the small pile of correspondence.
    “It’s from