19
Victoria had taken to resting in the afternoons at the same time the children took their naps. She was exhausted this time around. This baby never seemed to sleep—it rolled, kicked, poked, and hiccuped at all hours.
She sighed deeply, a hand to her large belly, and wondered how big this baby would be. It felt huge and strong. Beneath her hand she felt a small foot. Smiling, she pressed. After a moment, the foot pressed back.
"Will you sleep after you're born?" Victoria murmured. "I do hope so."
Low voices came to her then from the nursery next door. She rose and pulled her dressing gown on over her underthings. In the nursery doorway she paused, smiling.
Victor was home early. He sat cross-legged on the floor with Catherine in his lap. He was in his shirtsleeves, having thrown his jacket and overcoat on the low-slung armchair. Lydia sat beside him, bent over her well-loved book of poetry.
"Kiss," Catherine, the most affectionate person Victoria had ever met in her life, said. Victor grinned and dropped a peck on her nose, making her giggle.
"'The friendly cow all red and white,'" Liddie prompted. She patted Victor's knee. "Papa. Papa say it. 'The friendly cow...'"
"'The friendly cow, all red and white," Victor recited obediently, in between kissing Catherine's cheeks. Over her delighted squeals, he continued, "I love with all my heart.'"
"'With all my heart,'" Liddie repeated, as she was wont to do with a favorite poem or story.
"Heart," added Catherine, patting Victor's face with her plump hands. "Kiss!"
Victor kissed the top of her head extravagantly. "'She gives me cream with all her might,'" he went on when Lydia poked his leg, "'To eat with apple tart.'"
"Hug!" Catherine cried. She stood up on Victor's lap and threw her small arms around his neck, almost knocking him over. He laughed and held out his other arm to Liddie. After a moment's thought, Lydia grinned and hugged him about the neck, too. For a long moment he held them both close, one in each arm.
Victoria had to turn away just then, misty-eyed and sure her own heart was about to burst. The little foot pressed at her again, more gently this time. She pressed back, then wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat before stepping into the nursery.
The way her husband's and daughters' eyes lit up when they saw her almost made her cry again.
20
Victoria was incredibly pregnant, and incredibly gorgeous.
Victor knew she didn't think so, and he never liked to be vulgar or impolite, so he never commented on it and tried not to stare too openly. But she was beautiful. Ravishing. Not that she wasn't always pretty. But something about being pregnant made her shine.
That was it. She glowed. Her skin was rosier than normal, her hair fuller and more luxurious. She was lit by an even more intense inner beauty than she ordinarily was.
Victoria was in one of the armchairs in his study leafing through a seed catalog, her feet propped up on a stool. From across the room at his desk, sketch forgotten, Victor stared at her. Even her loose, high-waisted dress was flattering—it looked like a fancy nightdress. Above a flounce of lace, her neck was bare.
She was absolutely lovely. Even in home-clothes, planning a garden, heavily pregnant. Especially because of those things. Those ordinary, extraordinary things. Overcome with a sudden rush of affection, Victor got up.
"I think I should like to try poppies this year," Victoria remarked when she noticed he was crossing the room toward her. "Here, look at-"
Impolite or not, Victor cut her off by taking her face in his hands and pressing his mouth to hers. After a moment, his hands moved to hold the back of her head, his fingers climbing into her lush hair. Eyes closed, Victor lost himself in her—her soft mouth, her warmth. That hair. He massaged her scalp with his fingertips as he kissed her more deeply. There was a faint thud as the seed catalog dropped to the floor.
At last he broke the kiss. Slowly, though. It was difficult. Just for good measure he bent and pressed his mouth to her neck, as well, before straightening up. Victoria was rosy and breathless, her fingertips at the spot where he'd kissed her neck.
"Sorry," Victor said, reaching to pick up her catalog and handing it back. He perched on the armrest of her chair. "What were you saying about poppies?"
It took Victoria a moment to collect herself. She stared at the catalog for a long moment. Victor regarded her, amused.
"I don't recall," Victoria replied at last.