The Other Miss Bridgerton

“Andrew!” she gasped.

He smiled as he licked. He loved making her gasp.

She tasted like heaven, like sweet wine and tangy nectar, and he could not resist sliding a finger inside her, glorying in the way she instinctively tightened around him.

She was close. He could take her over the edge with one single graze of his teeth, but he was selfish, and when she came, he wanted to be inside her.

She moaned with frustration when he drew back, but he quickly replaced his mouth with his cock. He nudged at her opening, his body shuddering with desire as her legs wrapped around his. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

Their eyes met.

“Never,” she said.

And so he pushed forward, finding a home in her warmth, wondering how he had lived twenty-nine years on this earth without making love to this woman. He slipped into a rhythm, each stroke bringing him closer to the edge, but he held back, straining against his own release until she found hers.

“Andrew,” she gasped, arching beneath him.

He leaned down, rolled his tongue across her breast.

She whimpered. She moaned.

He turned his attention to the other one, this time giving it a little suck.

She let out a keening cry, high-pitched but quiet, and her body tightened beneath him.

Around him.

It was his undoing. He pumped forward once, then again. And then he exploded within her, losing himself in her scent, her essence.

In her . He lost himself in her , but somehow, in that moment, he found his home.

Several minutes later, when he’d finally caught his breath and was lying on his back beside her, he reached down between their bodies to hold her hand.

“I saw stars,” he said, still amazed.

He heard her smile. “On the insides of your eyelids?”

“I think I saw them on the inside of yours.”

She laughed, and the bed shook.

And then, far sooner than he would have anticipated, they shook the bed again.

Epilogue

Nine months later

Andrew had thought that he wanted a girl, but as he held his newborn son in his arms, he could only think that this amazing miraculous creature was perfect in every way.

There would be plenty of time to make more babies.

“Ten fingers,” he told Poppy, who was resting with her eyes closed in their bed. “Ten toes.”

“You counted?” she murmured.

“You didn’t?”

She opened one eye. “I was busy.”

He chuckled as he touched his son’s tiny little nose. “Your mother is very tired.”

“I think he looks like you,” Poppy said.

“Well, he’s certainly handsome.”

She rolled her eyes. Even with her eyes closed he could see that she rolled them.

Andrew turned his attention back to the baby. “He’s very clever.”

“Of course he is.”

He looked over at her. “Open your eyes, Pops.”

She did, with a look of surprise at the nickname. He’d never used it. Not once.

“I think we should name him Roger,” he said.

Poppy’s eyes grew round and wet, and her lips trembled before she spoke. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“Roger William,” Andrew decided.

“William?”

“Billy would like that, don’t you think?”

Poppy smiled widely. Billy had come to live at Crake several months earlier. They’d found him a position in the stables, although it was understood that he was to be given time off every day to attend school. He was doing very well, although the stablemaster had complained about the number of cats now taking up residence.

Andrew and Poppy were also living at Crake, although not for much longer. The house that Andrew had been building in his mind for so many years was almost a reality. Another month, maybe two, and they would be able to move in. There was a large, sunny nursery, a library just waiting to be filled with books, and even a small greenhouse, where Andrew planned to cultivate some of the seeds he’d collected on his many travels.

“I will have to take you outside when it’s warmer,” Andrew said to Roger as he walked him around the room. “I shall show you the stars.”

“They won’t look the same as they do from the Infinity ,” Poppy said softly.

“I know. We will make do.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I will tell him how the ancient gods built a ship so tall and so strong that the mast split the sky and all the stars fell out like diamonds.”

This earned him a smile. “Oh, you’ll tell him that, will you?”

“It’s the best explanation I’ve ever heard.” He walked over to the bed, settling Roger in his mother’s arms before stretching out next to both of them. “Certainly the most romantic.”

Poppy smiled, and he smiled, and even though he had been told by many women that newborns did not smile, he liked to think that Roger did, too.

“Do you think we’ll ever see the Infinity again?” Poppy asked.

“Probably not. But maybe a different ship.”

She turned to look at him. “Are you feeling restless?”

“No.” He didn’t even have to think about it. “Everything I need is right here.”

Her elbow jabbed gently into his side. “That’s far too pat an answer, and you know it.”

“I take back everything I’ve ever said about you being romantic,” he said. “Even that bit about the stars.”

She gave him a look as if to say, I’m waiting .

“I have found,” he said thoughtfully, “that I rather like building things.”

“Our new home?”

He looked down at Roger. “And our family.”

Poppy smiled, and she and the baby drifted off to sleep. Andrew sat next to them for a long while, marveling at his good fortune. Everything he needed really was right here.

“It wasn’t too pat an answer,” he murmured. Then he waited; he wouldn’t put it past his wife to say, even in her sleep, “Yes, it was.”

But she didn’t, and he eased himself off the bed and walked over to the French doors that led out to a small Juliet balcony. It was close to midnight and perhaps a little too cold to be going out in stocking feet, but Andrew felt a strange pull toward the inky night.

It was overcast, though, and not a single star twinkled above. Until...

He squinted up at the sky. There was a patch that was much darker than the rest. The wind must have cleared a small hole in the clouds.

“En garde ,” he murmured, and with his imaginary epée, he jousted with the heavens. He laughed as he lunged forward, aiming straight for that one spot. And then...

He went still. Was that a star?

It twinkled merrily, and as Andrew stared up in wonder, it was joined by another, and then another. Three stars in all, but the first, he decided, was his favorite. It was a fighter.

He didn’t really need a lucky star.

But maybe...

He glanced back through the window, where Poppy and Roger dozed peacefully in the bed.

Maybe he’d had one all along.