The Prizefighter’s Hart by Emily Royal
Epilogue
Thea’s body tightened with pain—so much pain.
Voices tore through her head—Atalanta’s crisp tones, Meggie’s words of praise…
And Griffin—his voice was always in the background—deep, soft, and filled with love—which she clung to, like a lighthouse in a storm.
The pain had been coming in waves—building then fading, but always returning until she could bear it no more. Finally, she threw back her head and screamed as a burst of agony tore through her. Then it subsided, and she lay back.
The voices receded.
A cry rose up—a high-pitched, pitiful wail, which called to her body at a visceral level, igniting a deep-seated need. A second cry joined the first.
Then a third—a voice she knew and loved.
“Griffin…”
She blinked away the tears of pain, and the blurred shape before her sharpened into the familiar form of her husband. He stood at the foot of the bed, Rowena beside him—each holding a bundle.
Rowena’s face glowed with joy and love. Ever since the altercation at the Royal Oak, she’d done everything possible to show both Thea and Griffin that she loved them. And though her wild streak would never be properly tamed, she was growing into a lovely young woman—bright, kind, and strong.
A credit to any parent.
Griffin’s face was streaked with tears, but they were tears of happiness. The joy in his face illuminated the whole room—the joy of a loving husband and doting father.
He cradled the bundle in his arms as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“You have a daughter.”
He leaned forward, and she caught a glimpse of a tiny pink face, eyes tightly closed—with long, dark lashes, a button nose, and a perfect little rosebud of a mouth.
“She’s beautiful,” she breathed.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Just like her mother.
“And you have a son,” Rowena said. The bundle wriggled in her arms, and a fat pink fist appeared. Shortly after, a cry of protest rang out.
“He’s as troublesome as his father.” Griffin laughed.
“Twins?” Thea croaked.
Griffin nodded. “Which explains why you were so…” He broke off, coloring.
“So…what, husband?” Thea asked sharply. “Huge?”
He shook his head.
“Whale-like, perhaps? Elephantine?”
His eyes widened in alarm.
Thea winked at Rowena, who winked back.
“Gargantuan?” Rowena suggested. “Colossal?”
A bubble of laughter rose inside Thea at Griffin’s stricken expression.
Meggie and Atalanta stood side by side, watching the scene unfold. With her best icy glare, Atalanta placed her hands on her hips.
“Do you mean to insult my sister, Mr. Oake?”
“Especially when her condition is the result of your actions,” Meggie added.
“I was a willing participant, Meggie, believe me,” Thea said. Griffin frowned and cocked his head to one side.
“Are you teasing me?”
The bubble burst, and a ripple of laughter filled the room. Griffin’s face went as red as fire, and Meggie nudged Atalanta. “Come on, Attie, I think we should leave this little family to get to know their new additions.”
The two ladies exited the chamber, leaving Thea alone with her husband and children.
“My children…”
She held out her arms, and Griffin placed her newborn daughter into the crook of her right arm as Rowena placed her son in her left.
“Have you thought of any names?” Rowena asked.
“Give her time to say hello to them, Rowe, my love,” Griffin said. “Besides, I’d like to suggest names with your mama’s approval.”
He smiled eagerly at Thea, a plea in his expression.
He took her hand.
“Marcus and Helena.”
She caught her breath. “You remembered?”
“Aye, my love,” he said. “I remember the story of woman who, in the eyes of the world in which she lived, was past her prime—a woman who believed herself unwanted and that she’d never achieve the thing she wanted most in the world. A family of her own.”
He dipped his head and captured her lips in a kiss. “She harbored a dream of children of her own, and she even gave them names. But when she was forced into marrying a gruff stranger with no manners, she believed her dream had died.”
He drew back the blanket with his fingertip to reveal the face of his daughter and stroked her cheek. The baby pursed her lips, then gave a contented sigh.
“Little did I realize that my dreams would become entwined with yours,” he said.
“And you have taught me, also,” she said.
“Me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, lowering her head and kissing each baby on the forehead. “You taught me that no matter what—you should never give up on your dreams.”