"Harold, I'm pregnant."

Those three little words had changed everything. It was a phrase Harold never expected to hear from his wife again in any shape or form, let alone her hurling it at him almost as if it was an invective – or a curse. Granted, he couldn't blame her for her distinct lack of joy, as he'd been awfully short with her. But it stung to see the apprehension and dread in her eyes, as if she wasn't expecting him to welcome this news.

And why should she? Here he'd been holed up in his office stewing in his petty anger even after she'd come to him – wearing one of her lovely and elegant Paris originals, no less! – and tried to reconcile. When Marian later gave him a full accounting of her day before she arrived at the emporium – woke up feeling nauseated around eleven, had Amaryllis put a note on the library door because she was the only one available, visited Dr. Pyne after her stomach settled, went to her mother's, unexpectedly hosted Mrs. Shinn and her ladies – Harold felt like even more of a cad than he already did. It was a comedy of errors that he couldn't find her, after all.

He'd been such a fool – a reckless reprobate. It was a terrible risk he'd taken, confronting Mrs. Latimer head on like that. At a time when Harold was furious with Marian, his will to resist that kind of dangerous attraction was perilously low. Suppose he'd been even more enchanted by the widow instead of turned off? Would he have been so weak, and so dispirited by his wife's seemingly immovable primness and mercurial moods, as to capitulate and throw his marriage away entirely?

It was a terrifying scenario to contemplate. And it was something he could never, ever reveal to Marian – especially not after she'd finally let go of her sadly not-so-unfounded fears that he might leave her someday, if their lovemaking no longer thrilled and excited him. However, although he'd been weighed in the balance and found wanting, Harold was determined to prove not just to his wife, but himself, that he was a faithful and devoted husband until the end. Carrying this burden alone to the grave would be his rightful penance, the best and only way he could atone for all the times these past few months that he'd failed and disappointed the woman he loved.

Yet at the same time, even Harold's obstinate conscience allowed that it would do no good to dwell any further on a situation that never happened, especially when he now had so much to look forward to in the future – not just the revival of their passion, but the third child he could now fully admit he'd so desperately wanted. When he recalled how hopeless and bleak life had seemed this morning, compared to the sheer elation he felt now, it made his head spin. Marian had not only come to him without prompting and poured out everything that had been in her heart, she had attempted to seduce him in his office. If it hadn't been for her condition, the music professor would have instantly and happily taken her up on her offer – what better way to banish any lingering remembrances of that illicit dream for good? Instead, he'd filed that delight away as something to look forward to in the future, once she'd recovered from childbirth. And for the first time in awhile, he did not feel in the least chafed by his husbandly duty of forbearance. After the night they proceeded to have, first on the sofa in the parlor and then in their bedroom as Marian gave him a steamy fashion show, whispering heated reminiscences into his ear as well as promises that they were going to continue to make new memories, he could not have been more satisfied with their lovemaking.

It was nearly midnight now, and the librarian lay cradled in her husband's arms, slumbering soundly. As she slept, Harold traced the lace edging of her latest negligee. It was a sheer crimson little number he'd never seen on her before – she'd secretly bought it in New York City on their way home, she told him as she straddled his lap and stroked his mussed curls. Marian had intended to surprise him with it one night, but it accidentally got packed away with all her Paris things, and she'd completely forgotten about it. Touched by this wonderful and unexpected romantic gesture, the music professor had insisted that his wife keep this garment on while he then proceeded to make tender and passionate love to her until they both collapsed in happy exhaustion.

But Harold was too restless – and, if truth be told, still wrestling with his guilty conscience – to join Marian in slumber. Scooting down to kiss his wife's gently rounded stomach, he whispered, "I don't deserve you – either of you. But you have my solemn promise that I'll do my darnedest to make up for that."

As it turned out, Marian had woken up – and she'd heard him. "Of course you deserve us," she chided. "It's I that don't deserve you."

Harold's brow quirked. "How do you figure, my dear little librarian?"

She pulled him up to hold her again, even as she clasped his hand to her stomach. "I've scolded you, and been short with you, and put everything – the children, the house, the library, the prudish sensibilities of River City's horrid, frigid gossips – before our lovemaking." Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and her voice wavered as she continued, "But the worst of my sins is that I didn't tell you of my suspicion I was expecting when I should have, because I doubted you."

Harold's stomach churned unpleasantly – had she known about his silly fancy, after all? "Doubted me?" he managed to choke out.

"Oh – not that you'd abandon me, or anything like that!" Marian hastily assured him. She bit her lip. "It's just that – I thought you might be disappointed, and the idea of you being unhappy about me having another child hurt tremendously. It hurt even more to think about you trying so hard to hide your true feelings from me about this pregnancy – I didn't doubt you would have tried very hard." Her arms tightened around him. "And I couldn't bear it."

Somehow, Harold managed to speak around the lump massing in his throat. "Marian – I wanted another baby with you. I always have. If I wasn't such an old man, I would've wanted to keep expanding our family to three, four, five, maybe even six children… "

The librarian giggled, even as a few tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. "Six children? I'm not sure I'd be able to handle that many!" She nestled even closer to him. "But I always thought three children – or four, if we have twins again – would be ideal… "

The music professor looked shrewdly at his wife. "Were you a little bit disappointed when you suspected you were pregnant?"

Marian shook her head vehemently. "Even after the girls were born and we had gotten our two children, I felt our family wasn't entirely complete. Deep down, I was hoping for another child, even if I dismissed such yearnings as too impractical." She sighed. "But there never seemed to be the right time to try for one. So when I began to suspect I was pregnant, my feelings were complicated. Even as part of me hoped, a much larger part wasn't ready to contemplate how it would affect our marriage. We were arguing about chores and the girls and the propriety of passionate lovemaking, and I knew the physical and emotional stresses of pregnancy would only exacerbate our troubles. I remembered how much of a shrew I was to you during my first pregnancy, and I didn't want to be that way again." Tears started streaming down her face. "But I felt so exhausted and out of sorts that I ended up being a shrew to you, anyway. I forgot how difficult and all-consuming this condition could be – just look at me, crying at the drop of a hat!" She laughed and wiped her eyes. "But even as I regretted how cold and distant and snappish I was with you, and resolved to do better, I couldn't bring myself to take a long, hard look at what was fueling these ill tempers. Because I also remembered how afraid you were to touch me when I was carrying the girls, and I couldn't stand having to go through that again, even if, as it thankfully turned out, you were happy about this turn of events. I need you as much as you need me, Harold."

Even as his heart constricted, he couldn't help grinning. "Well, I certainly haven't been afraid to touch you tonight, have I?" he pointed out, cupping her backside with his palm for good measure. "And you'll have to forgive me for my reticence during your first pregnancy – the jitters of a first-time father who didn't know what to expect." He pressed his hips against hers. "But this time around, I'm very well-versed that making passionate love to my pregnant wife isn't going to break her or our child."

"Well… you were a little hesitant at first, downstairs in the parlor when I tried to seduce you," she said with a sad smile. "And you wouldn't let me make love to you in your office."

"Oh, I'm saving that little rendezvous for later," he promised, kissing her neck. "I want to think about it, plan it out – the way I did our first tryst at the faraway field." His voice grew throatier, his kisses harder. "I want you to think about me thinking about all the wanton, decadent, scandalous ways we're going to make love in my office someday. Everywhere and everything you can think of, we'll do – on the couch, on the desk, in my chair, against the wall where I've given you so many love-bites over the years… "

Marian let out a delicious moan at that – her breathing had gotten very heavy, and Harold had grown very hard, and he was strongly tempted to make love to her. But there was still one more thing he needed to resolve before he could let this conversation drop, and he wasn't about to fall back into the same pattern of procrastination, no matter how loudly his body was screaming at him to go, go, go! as the librarian parted her warm thighs to grant him more intimate access.

"Marian," he said, lifting his head to look at her – and then he had to swallow before continuing, as he'd gotten choked up again. "What made you come to me and spill the beans about your pregnancy, after our worst fight yet? The reason I'm asking is because earlier, you asked me if I would've welcomed your overtures to reconcile if you hadn't revealed your condition. Although I was planning to come home for dinner, I can't deny that learning you were carrying my child broke through my anger like nothing else could have. But would you have sought me out at the emporium, if you hadn't had that news to share?"

"Probably not," she admitted, averting her gaze. "But in this instance, I was driven by a desperation that was so strong it overwhelmed my blasted pride – I had to do something to try to fix what was wrong between us. I'd put all thoughts and even hopes of pregnancy firmly out of my head until this morning, when I woke up with my worst bout of nausea yet. And when the Irish stew the girls brought home from Mama's last night made me ill, I could no longer ignore not only my condition, but the role I had played in causing our estrangement." She shook her head in disgust. "And to think, most if not all of this uncertainty and unhappiness could have been avoided if I had plucked up the courage to talk to you earlier this summer!"

"Well, we're remedying that now, my dear little librarian," Harold said soothingly, planting a soft kiss on her temple. Then it was his turn to shake his head at his own foolishness. "And here I'd been thinking your mercurial moods and weeping during lovemaking were caused by you going through the change!"

To his relief, Marian was not offended by his ignorance. On the contrary – she burst into laughter. "That's not an entirely unwarranted suspicion… if I was approaching fifty instead of forty, that is! You really thought that was the case?"

"What I know about that part of a woman's life wouldn't even be enough for a full paragraph," he said sheepishly. "But I really should have known better – especially after your own mother gave birth to Winthrop when she was older than you! I suppose I was afraid to get my hopes up, too… "

The librarian gave her husband an indulgent smile. "Well, even I couldn't help wondering if it was the change at first, because I did spot here and there, something that hadn't happened at all with Penny and Elly. It wasn't enough for a true course, but just enough for me to entertain the idea that I wasn't pregnant, after all." She blushed slightly. "It worried me when I found out I was expecting, but both Dr. Pyne and my mother assured me a little bit of bleeding wasn't at all unusual in the early stages. So I don't know too much more than you do about that aspect of a woman's life, it seems!"

Marian laughed again, and Harold reveled in the sound. He remembered the first time he'd ever heard the librarian laugh – really laugh. It happened during their earliest days of courting, when she was still Marian Paroo. About a week after they'd sent the poisonous Priscilla Harper packing, he and Marian were alone in the emporium's auditorium together. Band rehearsal had just ended, and Harold was proudly demonstrating how he'd taught himself Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on the trumpet using the Think System. He did a fairly decent job on the tune until he reached the final note, which bleated shrilly and then trailed off like a dying lamb. At that, the strait-laced librarian had completely lost it, laughing herself silly until tears were streaming down her cheeks. Harold was admittedly a bit sore at her reception of his performance, but he was even more enchanted by the sight of Marian surrendering to abandon. It was the first time he'd ever seen her in hysterics, and he couldn't help picturing in his mind what she might look like in other states of unrestrained delight…

No matter how beautiful Mrs. Latimer's or any other woman's laugh might have been, it never would have moved him the way Marian's mirth did. The librarian's laugh was golden and musical, like everything else about her.

Marian sobered up. "Harold, what's the matter?"

I could have lost all this. I could have lost you.

He'd come so close to falling down the rabbit hole of temptation – hell, he'd leaped into it headfirst! And for what? A foolish and fleeting fancy that would have cost him everyone he loved and everything he'd worked so hard to build over the past decade, had he been stupid enough to surrender to his baser nature.

But he had to get a hold of himself. This was his burden to carry. He would not trouble Marian with the capriciousness of his wayward heart – especially now that he was no longer in any danger from that particular temptation.

"It's been a rough three months," was all the music professor managed to get out, before breaking down completely.

"Oh Harold," Marian cooed repentantly, stroking his hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I've been a coward, and I'm so sorry. I promise to do better in the future… "

"Don't, Marian," he pleaded, even as he continued to tremble in her arms. He couldn't bear her apologies. "I'm the one who's been an even bigger coward. I knew something wasn't quite right with you, with us, but I was afraid to rock the boat. I was too damn selfish, wanting Paris lovemaking and sulking when you couldn't quite give it to me. And when I thought you were going through the change, I was upset – not at you, but at the loss of a dream I didn't fully realize I'd been harboring until it seemed I'd lost all hope of achieving it." He scooted down to kiss and caress her stomach with quaking fingers. "Now that we are having another baby, I'm over the moon."

"And we'll always have Paris – always," Marian added, her voice shaking right along with his hands. She pulled him upward until their bodies were pressed together and they were looking deeply into each other's eyes. Though Harold saw she'd also been weeping, he was not disheartened. Right or wrong, he was already hard for her, and when he saw that alluringly come-hither look in her eyes, he wanted her even more.

"Let's forgive each other now, Harold," his wife said huskily as she reached down, without shame or preamble, to guide him into her. "Tell me again all the ways you'll make love to me in your office someday, and I'll tell you what you have to look forward to the next time we're alone together in the kitchen… "