XII

"Would you like to talk about it, Jeff?"

Jefferson cracked an eye open and grimaced as he saw Belle standing there in the doorway of the study. He groaned as she waddled into the room and settled herself on the sofa beside him. "Are you giving me a choice, or were you just being polite?"

Belle rubbed a soothing hand over her belly and smirked at him. "Jefferson, you're my friend and I love you, but you're mucking this up in the extreme."

He sighed as his head dropped back against the cushion. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart," he drawled, wincing as he exhaled through his sore nose. "I've lost her."

Belle rolled her eyes and whacked him on the shoulder. "Jefferson Madden, don't you even think of giving up. All she wants is you. I'm sick and tired of the emotions you two have bouncing all over my house!" She glared at him as he sat up straighter and turned his surprised grey eyes on her. "First it was lust - not that I minded considering - well nevermind that, but now Emma is miserable, you're miserable and the stress from your combined misery is not good for the baby. You have to fix this!"

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Belle pursed her lips as she thought of her own courtship and her persistent duke. One would think he could have taken a page out of Robert's book. "Let's see. There are always the normal gifts of courtship you could shower upon her … flowers, chocolates …" she ticked off on her fingers, "… promises you don't intend to keep. Though you'd better if you know what's good for you. The least you could do is buy her a proper wedding ring!"

"I did," he grinned, reaching into the breast pocket of his frock coat and withdrawing a little velvet box. He flipped the lid open to reveal a wide filigree band in an ivy design inlaid with tiny diamonds. "I know Emma doesn't like large pieces, nothing ostentatious, and I thought this would be perfect. It belonged to my great grandmother."

"Oh, Jefferson, it's beautiful … and so perfect for Emma. She's going to love it." She whacked him on the shoulder again. "Why didn't you give it to her?!"

"She ran off before I got the chance," he growled, rubbing his shoulder where she'd now hit him twice. "And stop hitting me, woman!"

"Rochefort! Why are you yelling at my wife?" Robert snarled as he entered the room.

"Because she's abusing my person," he explained, realizing how upset his friend was. It was the only time he used Jefferson's title as a form of address.

The heat of anger fled his eyes as he noticed the amusement on his wife's face. He settled on the arm of the sofa next to Belle and dropped a soft kiss to her brow. "Did you also tell him what a complete ass he's been in the handling of his own wife?" he asked, grinning down at her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. And he's promised to fix it." She turned back to Jefferson as she had Robert help her up from the sofa. "Jeff, I will see you at dinner. Think about what I've said, please."

Jefferson watched them go and groaned. How was he ever to get through dinner with the entire family with his wife glaring daggers at him across the table? Maybe he could plead sour stomach. No, Abigail would take that as a personal insult. He could always take dinner at the club. No, Robbie would send St. James to fetch him. Well hell!

*.*.*

It was Emma's turn to groan when she stepped out of her bedroom only to run into the one person she didn't want to see at the moment. She was still upset with what he'd told her of his past and furious it was working so well to soften her heart towards him. "Jefferson," she breathed, backing into the door she'd just closed behind her.

He abandoned his relaxed pose against the wall and approached her, a lazy smile curling his lips. Gods! Why does he have to be so bloody handsome, she fumed silently, holding his gaze as he stopped mere inches before her. She sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes dipped to the low décolletage of her gown, the emerald green matching her eyes perfectly. Instead of the order to return to her room and change immediately, he raised one lone finger and traced the curve of her breasts above the Venetian lace.

"Is this what you've been spending my money on, rabbit?" he drawled, his eyes darkening with desire as they raised to meet hers. Before she could find a suitable scathing reply, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "Beautiful," he purred silkily. "Absolutely beautiful."

Her lips parted in surprise as she searched his features, wondering if he were talking about the dress … or her. "Thank you," was all she could think to say. She cursed herself for the breathy tone of her voice, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She'd easily fallen under his spell and it took every ounce of her restraint to stop herself from leaning into him and searching out his lips with hers.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her down the stairs, seemingly relaxed. More relaxed than she'd ever seen him. Whatever he was conspiring in that debauched head of his, he could just forget it!

Belle smiled where she stood in the door of the dining room next to Robert. "Emma, darling, you look wonderful."

"Thank you, Belle. I —"

Jefferson interrupted her. "Belle, give us just a moment, please. We'll be along shortly."

Emma's stomach churned with dread as she watched her cousin disappear into the dining room with her husband. She really didn't trust herself to be alone with Jefferson at that moment. She turned to him, opening her mouth to upbraid him for the delay and immediately snapped it shut, her hand rising to cover her heart. The box he held in his palm commanded all her attention, or rather the elegant ring nestled within.

"For me?" she asked softly, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from falling.

"Emma, please just listen to what I have to say, alright?" He breathed a sigh of relief when she nodded her acquiescence. "I've been an —"

"There you are, old boy!" Killian boomed as he bounded down the stairs. "I'd heard you'd finally arrived. A relief, I must say." He stepped between Jefferson and Emma, taking her hand and tucking it into his elbow. "Darling, you look ravishing. May I escort you into dinner?" With a wink, he steered her towards the dining room, leaving a glowering earl sputtering behind them.

"Killian, you rat!" she hissed as he led her to the long table and seated her beside him, leaving Jefferson to sit next to the dowager. "He's going to be furious with you."

He placed his napkin in his lap and cast her a cheeky grin. "You looked as though you were about to devour him on the spot, love. Didn't you just tell me yesterday you weren't going to make things easy for him?"

Emma winced. "Yes. I suppose I did."

Abigail chuckled behind her hand as she raised a brow at the little countess. "Behave, you rogue," she admonished the former pirate. "There will be no bloodshed at the dinner table, thank you."

"Aye, m'lady," he said with a graceful nod of his dark head.

Jefferson stood there for a full minute, his face flaming with rage as he counted to ten, then twenty, then … he lost count at fifty and gnashed his teeth, marching towards the dining room. His eyes narrowed on Killian as he took his place at the table next to Abigail. The ring box in his pocket felt like a lead weight and he plastered a large fake smile on his handsome face to hide the simmering anger boiling away his insides. He'd get that bloody ring on her finger if it took all night. And by the looks of it, that was a distinct possibility.

He touched little of his food - unusual for the earl as his appetites nearly always bordered on voracious – concentrating more on the fortified wine being served rather than anything substantial being offered. It wouldn't have set well on his stomach to try to force food upon it while he had to endure the round of flirtatious banter between Killian and Emma. She looked more uncomfortable than anything, but it brought him no succor from his restlessness. He was fighting down the urge to crawl across the table and beat the man bloody.

Again, he ignored the food set before him as the third course appeared. The dowager continued to cast worried glances at Robert, hoping he'd keep the conversation amiable between the two earls, but she knew it was unlikely he'd intervene. Her son had a rather warped sense of humor and thrived on discord simply because he found it entertaining.

Belle dipped her spoon into her soup and took a bite, the leeks and carrots in a rich broth unable to distract her from the swirling emotions being bandied about. She was tempted to fake a pain just to escape the dining room and the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating.

Emma shifted in her seat, almost afraid to look across the table at her husband as he sat back in his chair and steadily made his way through an entire bottle of wine, his heated gaze making the fine hairs on her nape stand at attention. Killian seemed to be the only one in the room completely at ease. He kept up a lively conversation with Robert and the dowager about some of his sea voyages which she usually found entertaining.

However, this evening, she just wished he would stop talking. She could kick him for interrupting Jefferson and whatever it was he'd wanted to say earlier out in the hall. If her husband was finally willing to open up to her, she wanted to hear it regardless of her resolve to make things difficult for him.

Belle pulled Emma aside as dinner finally came to an end and they adjourned to the drawing room. Abigail kissed them both on the cheek and claimed fatigue as she left them to retire to her rooms. "If Killian doesn't stop antagonizing Jefferson, I make have Robbie keep him here when I go into labor and send him every twinge of pain I endure," Belle hissed in annoyance as a maid brought in a tea tray.

Emma accepted a glass of sherry from a footman and lowered her eyes as she bit her lip to stifle the giggle which burned at the back of her throat. "He's only trying to help. Besides, if you did that, you'd have to explain your gift to yet another person."

"Pfft," she scoffed, dropping a cube of sugar and a slice of lemon into her cup. "I wouldn't do it," she said, wrinkling her nose with a teasing smile, "but it's a nice fantasy, hm?"

Emma lowered her lashes, surreptitiously watching Jefferson across the room. Robert had drawn him into a discussion about an import business he thought he'd be collecting when a Mister Ravenwood didn't come up with what he owed at the end of the month. Her husband looked relaxed for all intents and purposes, but she could still see the tension in the firm press of his lips and the small twitch in the corner of his left eye as the evening wore on.

Killian, seeing he could cause no more mischief, announced his plans to go to the club and bid them all good night. Emma and Belle breathed a collective sigh of relief. The duchess set her cup back on the tray and shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position to ease the unwavering pain in her back.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked, laying a comforting hand on her cousin's shoulder.

"Of course … just miserable," Belle laughed. She smiled gently, seeing how weary Emma was. "Don't worry about me, Em. Why don't you go on up to bed? I know you haven't been sleeping well since you've returned to London."

"I think I will," Emma sighed. It looked as though Jefferson would be deep in conversation with Robert for hours yet and there would be no talking to him tonight. She leaned over and hugged her cousin. "Let me know if you need me, ok?"

"I'll be fine," Belle assured her. She watched Jefferson as his gaze followed his wife out of the room, his attention thoroughly diverted away from his talk with the duke and she smiled in satisfaction.

"Jeff, did you hear what I said?" Robert asked, scowling at his friend's inattention. "Jefferson!"

"What? Of course, I did," he murmured, trying to feign interest in Robert's prospected business venture.

"You haven't heard a word I've said since Emma left the room."

"Mhmm. I totally agree, but you might want to put that brigantine you purchased several years ago to good use —"

"Oh, just go after her already," Robert snarked in exasperation. "It's clear I won't be able to have a serious conversation with you until you've sorted things out with your wife."

Jefferson's cheeks colored slightly as he glanced from the doorway back to his friend. "What? I'm offering my advice."

"Yes, I'll give you that. You just happened to be offering advice on the previous subject matter. I was asking your opinion on baby names, you sot!"

"Oh."

Belle burst out into a round of giggles as she scooted to the edge of the sofa and attempted to stand on her own. "You two are ridiculous, and on that note, I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Jefferson," she said sweetly as her eyes met her husband's warm gaze. She knew he'd join her before she reached the stairs.

"I'm sorry, Robbie. I'm a bit distracted," Jefferson apologized, tossing back the scotch in his glass.

"Distracted doesn't begin to describe it. Just talk to her, be honest with her … tell her what's in your heart." Robert rose from his chair and strode purposefully to the door, not wishing Belle to attempt to climb the stairs by herself. "In other words … beg like your very life depended on it."

Jefferson glowered at him as he ducked out of the door. Perhaps a little begging wouldn't be amiss.

*.*.*

Emma set her hairbrush down on the vanity and rotated her neck until the muscles somewhat loosened as it gave a faint pop. It seemed nothing she did would relieve the tension coiling through her body. Now that she knew Jefferson was residing under Robert's roof once more, it was increasing by leaps and bounds. What was he doing? Had he gone to the club for the evening or was he still in the drawing room discussing business?

She cursed inwardly. It shouldn't matter so much to her where he was. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and perused the frown marring her smooth brow. She never used to frown before Jefferson. Granted she had hidden her feelings behind a mask of cool civility. There was no sense in tipping her mother off as to her real feelings or the day to day misery in which she wallowed.

Her shoulders drooped dejectedly as she rose from the vanity and removed her robe. The door opened with a soft snick and she called out to her maid. "I won't need anything else tonight, thank you. I think I'm just going to go to sleep, Bridgette."

"Good," a warm male voice whispered softly near her ear as her husband's arms slipped about her waist. "I'm rather tired myself."

"Jefferson! Wh-What are you doing in here?" Emma breathed, groaning over the breathy tone of her voice. She couldn't seem to help it, however, as heat flooded her body and pooled low in her belly, his husky tone sending a delicious thrill tingling along her skin.

He didn't answer right away, instead scooping her up in his arms and carrying her down the hall to the other side of the townhouse where his room was located. Her eyes were wide with alarm as she threw an arm about his shoulders, clinging to him to keep herself from falling. She doubted he would purposefully drop her, but there was always a chance and she hated heights of any kind.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked needlessly. She knew exactly where he was taking her, and she wasn't the least bit happy about it.

He bore her into his room, and she looked around, always having been curious as to what his room looked like. It was decorated in dark cherry wood, the silk hangings and duvet on the bed done in rich earth tones, several shades of green and brown. Dresser, hope chest at the foot of the bed, wardrobe, nightstand on either side of the bed, a rich Aubusson rug covering the hardwood floor and a rather comfortable looking window seat, furnishings similar to her own room, but his was much larger. She took it all in sparingly as her gaze snapped back to him.

He was relaxed – no doubt from the liquor he'd consumed that evening – as he deposited her gently on the bed and returned to the door to lock it and remove the key. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as he strode casually over to the window, threw back the sash and tossed the key out.

Emma gaped at him. "What the hell, Jefferson!?" she asked, rather panicked at the prospect of spending the night in his room. There was no possibility of retrieving the key without ringing for a maid. "You can't keep me here. Don't think I'm too afraid to use the window."

"Relax, rabbit. I don't think you want to be found hanging from the trellis flashing your knickers at the neighbors. Whatever would they think?"

Emma gnashed her teeth and settled back against the pillows as she glared at him.

"A wife's place is at her husband's side, is it not?" he asked, his long fingers pulling at the cravat tied about his throat until it came undone in his hands. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, Em?" he purred silkily, his eyes heavily lidded as he moved to sit beside her on the edge of the mattress. "I simply want to make certain you remain with me without any … interruptions."

"Jeff —"

His finger came up to cover her soft lips. "Oh, no, little rabbit. It's my turn to talk." Emma sucked in a sharp breath as his finger traced the contours of her lips, his grey eyes so warm she felt she could lose herself within their depths. He leaned in, nearly touching, his lips mere inches from her own. All it would take was for her to meet him halfway. His nose brushed lightly against hers and he smiled. "I've missed you so much, Em."

Her lips parted on a sigh and her eyes closed, moving closer … and he quickly rose from the bed. Her fingers clenched against the duvet as she stared at him in bewilderment. He gave her his back as he removed his frock coat, his cufflinks, and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing his garments haphazardly over the back of a chair for his valet to see to in the morning. Her mouth went dry as he revealed more and more of his tantalizing flesh to her hungry gaze. He disappeared into the small dressing room adjoined to his chamber, returning a few moments later clad only in a pair of white cotton sleeping pants.

She slipped beneath the duvet and clutched it tightly in her hand as he moved towards the bed, once again settling at her side, facing her. She couldn't stop her eyes from traveling leisurely over the broad expanse of his smooth chest, her fingers itching to touch. He was hers. Why couldn't she just reach out and run her fingers over his skin? She bit her lip in a perfect imitation of her cousin's habit, trying to quell the desire which made her flesh hum and throb with need.

Jefferson caught the hand tightly grasping the duvet, and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss to her palm. "My precious little wife," he uttered softly, holding her unwavering gaze. He flipped open the lid on the ring box he held in his left hand and presented it to her once more, thankful there would be no one to barge in on them here. "I thought it time you had a proper ring."

Emma brushed a finger gingerly over the delicate ring, feeling her heart clench. Slowly she closed the lid, her emerald orbs filled with pain as they rose to meet his bewildered gaze. "I can't take it … yet. Jeff, I need to feel like your wife first. Do you understand?" she asked, setting the ring box on the night table next to the bed and reaching out to cup his cheek, hoping to somehow make him understand she wasn't outright rejecting him.

He leaned into her hand, reaching up to cover hers, holding it against his stubbled cheek as he closed his eyes and simply savored her cool touch. "I do. I know I hurt you, Em, and you will never know how much I regret doing so." He sighed and urged her to scoot over, climbing under the blankets and thick duvet with her.

She scooted clear across the bed, but his hand snaked out to catch her wrist and haul her back to lay beside him. She was puzzled when he laid his head on his own pillow and turned on his side to face her, holding both of her hands loosely between them. The candlelight cast shadows over his face as the ghost of a smile touched his lips. She wanted him so badly, but she couldn't allow herself to give in. She'd worked so diligently to win him … now it was his turn to do the same.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing each of her fingertips. "I used to think you were a flighty little girl, concerned with nothing more than fashion and gossip," he whispered, brushing one golden curl behind her ear as his eyes caressed her face. "Then you showed me how sweet and honest you could be. You let me see how vulnerable you were. That night when I first rescued you from Malcolm … when you'd been reduced to hiding under Robbie's desk … I think that was the night I fell in love with you."

She squeezed his hand, holding on as if it were a lifeline to save her from drowning. "You had a funny way of showing it," she whispered, startled by his confession. "I didn't even think you liked me then."

"You were so incredibly beautiful, your lovely eyes so filled with fear and pain. All I wanted in the wide world was to gather you in my arms and never let you go. Instead I kept my distance. I hurt you over and over and yet you never gave up on me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes glistening with unshed tears he refused to let fall. "I was such a fool not to trust you."

"Jefferson —"

His finger traced over her lips once more, but he made no move to kiss her other than his lips pressing softly to her brow. "I love you, Emma. I won't make the mistake again of shutting you out." He smiled sadly. "Good night, little wife."

Emma stared at him incredulously as he turned over onto his other side, giving her his back. Her mind whirled in the realm of what the hell just happened? True, she hadn't wanted to be the one to give in to any advances her husband may have wanted to make, but that didn't mean she would have really had the will power to reject him in that way. She pursed her lips and frowned at his broad back. What was wrong with him? He'd been dying to have her in this very bed since she'd first known him and now, he was … giving her exactly what she wanted, what she'd asked for. He was finally offering his heart instead of his body, something he'd apparently given up on years ago.

She yawned widely and shivered, the chill in the room due to the unlit hearth, seeping under the covers. Exhaustion was finally catching up with her. Her hand crept forward, smoothing over his smooth flesh from shoulder to hip and she inched her body closer to spoon against him. She wrapped her arm about his waist, her hand splaying over the taut plane of his belly, the muscles retracting delightfully beneath her touch. Her lips ghosted across his nape and he shivered as she sighed in contentment and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, my love."

Jefferson smiled and closed his eyes, hope springing to life in his chest.

*.*.*

Belle smacked her husband's hand away as he proceeded to rub little teasing circles over her belly, trying to get the baby to kick against his fingertips. "Stop that! I would love to be able to sleep tonight without your child trying to shatter what's left of my ribs, thank you."

Robert chuckled softly, his breath teasing the curling tendrils along her nape. "I'm sorry, love," he murmured as his hand rose to her shoulder to gently knead some of the tension from her stiff muscles. "It won't be much longer before our son is ready to meet us."

She was silent a moment, another pain ripping through her back. "Robbie, it hurts. Do we have an extra pillow you can wedge back there?" she moaned. She breathed a sigh of relief as the baby shifted one way and she the other and she was able to draw in a full lungful of breath. The mild comfort she found allowed her to focus on something other than the impending birth of their child.

"What are you thinking, love," he asked, spooning behind her as best as he could with the pillow in the way.

"I'm worried about Emma and Jefferson. Killian needs to stop antagonizing him. Talk to him, Robbie."

He grumbled against her nape, nestling into her hair. "You're just sore at him because he won the last bet."

"He cheated somehow," she pouted.

"No, he didn't. You thought Jefferson would miss the meeting with Wendell and he was certain he wouldn't. He won fair and square," Robert protested with a yawn.

"He had the advantage. He knows Jefferson better than I do."

He chuckled, which earned him a light slap on the arm. "Perhaps you'll win the next one. I think the odds are in your favor as to how long it will take Jefferson to win back the affections of his wife. You have inside knowledge into the workings of your cousin's emotions."

Belle cast him a sly smile over her shoulder and reached over to blow out the candle on the bedside table. "Hmm. Perhaps."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Belle really needed to offer him some much-needed advice. Hopefully, he will heed it :D. Don't be too hard on Emma for not accepting his ring. She will, but she is hurt and angry and refuses to give in until he pulls his head out of his ass and shows her how sorry he is. He's finally taken a step in the right direction and she's softening towards him, but he still has a ways to go. Next chapter: The baby's here! Yay! And Belle's labor will be fraught with … well … we all know how much trouble she's been having controlling her gift haha. Thank you all so much for reading. Please leave a review :D