“You’re looking well, Father,” Cassie said. The priest was clean and relaxed as he dug into a large herb and cheese omelet. “The graze on your shoulder wasn’t deep?”

Père Laurent smiled mischievously. “People have predicted my imminent demise since I was a sickly toddler, yet I’m still here. The bullet barely touched me. I think it knocked me down more because it caught the fabric of my coat.”

Grey shook his friend’s hand fervently. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you confront Durand! It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Père Laurent shrugged. “The worst he could do was kill me, which is not a disaster for a man of faith. But I’ll be pleased to return to a church and a congregation.” He eyed Grey sternly. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your life for an old man like me, but for the sake of my Viole and her family, you have my deepest gratitude.”

As Grey looked uncomfortable with the thanks, Viole set steaming mugs of real, expensive coffee in front of Cassie and Grey. “Isn’t it fine how much we’re in charity with each other?”

“Proof that the French and the English can be friends given half a chance.” Cassie added cream and sugar to her coffee and took a deep swallow. It was delicious, hot and invigorating. Warmth and energy curled through her weary body.

“May the future hold peace, and soon.” Grey raised his coffee mug to Cassie in a toast, his eyes warm. As a woman both French and English, she couldn’t agree more. She’d never wanted war between her two homelands.

As Cassie started in on the omelet Yvette placed in front of her, Père Laurent said thoughtfully, “Your natural hair color is red like your fox namesake, isn’t it?”

She swallowed before replying. “More like a fox and less like the carrot I resembled as a child.”

He chuckled. “I wonder if your child will have red hair?”

Her coffee cup froze in midair as she stared at him.

His bushy white brows arched. “You didn’t know you were with child? Of course, it’s very early yet and you’ve been busy with other matters.”

Cassie felt her fair complexion turning violent red as everyone gazed at her with deep interest. Beside her, Grey got to his feet, clasped her upper arm in a firm grip, and said pleasantly, “If you’ll excuse us, my betrothed and I must talk.”

He marched her out of the kitchen and back to their room. After settling her trembling body on one of the beds, he knelt and built up the fire. She was grateful for the warmth since she was in shock.

He stood and regarded her intently, looking very tall and very broad shouldered. “I gather that’s news to you?”

She nodded, her stomach roiling. “Jeanne told me that Père Laurent is famous for being able to tell if a woman is with child. I … I’ve been feeling a little off, but thought it was the worry and danger.”

“You said you had a reliable method of prevention?”

“Wild carrot seeds. They work fairly well, but no method is perfect.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Heaven knows we’ve been giving the wild carrot seeds quite a lot of challenges.”

“I am …” He shook his head, groping for words. “I am awed. Amazed. Delighted. I never thought I’d live to become a father.” He sat on the bed opposite her, his knees only a foot from hers, his gaze intent. “But how do you feel about this sudden change in circumstances?”

She hesitated, her mind churning. “Delighted because I never thought I’d have a child, either. Dismayed because the timing is … awkward.” She scowled at him. “And really irritated because now you’ll feel you have to marry me.”

“Wrong.”

She blinked. “You aren’t going to become all gentlemanly and honorable and insist that we marry because of the baby?”

“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and caught her hands. “The baby will be a joy, but in terms of marriage, it’s irrelevant. I already had every intention of persuading you to marry me. We’re just having this discussion a little earlier than I expected.”

She tried unsuccessfully to tug her hands away, but his grip was gently implacable, and it didn’t seem appropriate to start a wrestling match. “Unless my memory is failing, we had a conversation where I explained that needing me was no basis for marriage and that in a year you’d want something different from what you want now,” she said, exasperated. “I thought you agreed with me.”

He grinned, looking so attractive she almost melted. “I only agreed with part of it. At the time, I thought you’d have to be mad to take on a semicrazed fellow like me. But I’ve improved. I haven’t tried to kill anyone without a good reason for almost a month.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard more convincing arguments.”

“Very well.” He leaned forward, his gaze on her, his dark-edged gray eyes vivid. “I’ve changed a great deal in the last two months, but so have you.”

She thought of the hardened, wary spy she’d been when Kirkland had sent her to Castle Durand and nodded agreement. “Your legendary charm works even when you’re half mad.”

His turn to roll his eyes when she mentioned legendary charm. “There is nothing wrong with needing another person,” he said firmly. “My parents need each other every hour of every day because they’re devoted. They’re happiest when they’re together.”

“They do seem very fond.”

He must have heard a note of doubt in her voice because he said perceptively, “Are you concerned that because I’ve always liked women I’m incapable of being faithful? There you’re wrong. My father was much like me, I’m told. Quite the young gallant, including great admiration for your mother. Then he met my mother. He hasn’t looked at another woman since. I am very like him. I sowed my share of wild oats until I met the right woman. You. I love you, and that is not going to change if we wait a year.”

She stared at him helplessly, wanting to believe. Unable to.

He lifted her hands and kissed the back of one, then the other. “I love you, Cassie Catherine Cat,” he said softly. “I’ve never met a woman with your strength and grace and utter trustworthiness. Nor can I imagine a wife who will better understand me, and there’s a lot to understand.”

She hadn’t thought of that. What would a sheltered young lady make of the scarred, complicated man he’d become? Her hands curled around his protectively as she realized she didn’t want to leave him to the tender mercies of someone who couldn’t fully appreciate his hard-won strength and resilience and courage.

Seeing her expression change, he said soberly, “I’m functioning reasonably well, but I’m not yet anyone’s idea of normal. I might never be able to tolerate crowds, my temper may always be chancy. Are you willing to take me on? I was prepared to wait a year if you insisted, but the situation has changed.” He gently rubbed her flat abdomen with a large, warm hand. “I’d prefer our child be legitimate.”

She caught his hand and pressed it to her, thinking of the baby they’d made together. As soon as Père Laurent had said the words, she’d known in her marrow that he was right. Didn’t she owe her child a father?

And yet … “I’ve seen too much, experienced too much,” she said haltingly. “I don’t want you to regret that someday.”

“What will it take to convince you that I’ll never want a boring innocent?” he asked with exasperation. “It’s your experience that makes you what you are. A woman of irresistible strength and wisdom.”

He suddenly lunged the distance between them and pinned her down on the narrow bed, kissing her throat and sliding a scandalous hand up her thigh under her very respectable Madame Harel skirt. “The fact that you are also the most deliciously attractive female I’ve ever met is not the most important thing about you.”

He raised his head a moment and thought. “Though it’s close.” He captured her mouth for another kiss.

She began to laugh as belief and desire pulsed through her. “What if I’m a shallow, lustful female who would only agree to marry because of your magnificent face and body and … and advanced amatory skills?”

“That’s all right, too.” He looked at her hopefully. “Do you really want to marry me for my looks and use me shamelessly? I like that much better than being stalked for my wealth and title.”

Her throat tightened and she brushed at the dull brown hair that should be golden. They had changed each other, and for the better. She’d rescued him, nurtured him, taught him how to live in the world again. He’d taught her to open her heart. To give love. Even more difficult, to receive love.

Voice husky, she said, “I don’t want to marry you for your looks and passion, or your position and wealth.” She swallowed hard before she could get the words out. “Only because … I love you.”

His face lit with a joy that matched her own. “That’s the best reason of all, my lady fox.” His eyes crinkled with laughter. “Can I use you shamelessly now?”

She wrapped her arms around his broad chest. “Oh, please do!”

They came together with a sweet carnality where all the barriers to intimacy of mind and soul dissolved. Passion was swift and satisfying beyond anything she’d ever known. From the words of love Grey sang softly into her ear, the same was true for him.

As they lay tangled together in the too small bed, she said dreamily, “Will Père Laurent marry us without bans? It will make the child’s birthday look less irregular.”

Grey kissed her temple. “I’m sure he will, though I guarantee our families will want a second, entirely proper Church of England marriage as well.”

“I won’t mind. If wedding once is good, twice should be better.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s good once and twice is better.” He stroked suggestively down her torso.

Even as desire curled through her, she said a little breathlessly, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m impressed by your stamina!”