Rare and Precious Things (The Blackstone Affair #4)(58)
Author: Raine Miller

Nothing left, but to drop the bomb on my husband.

“I need to figure out a name for you,” I said to him as we went in search of Ethan and Zara. His toenails clicked on the wood floor as he walked beside me. I swear he was on his best behavior, trying to show me what a good dog he would be. I wasn’t worried, I just didn’t know what Ethan would say when I showed up with a big German Shepherd, and announced I’d be keeping him.

I was about to find out.

I could hear them before I went in, and knew what they were doing before I saw the evidence. They were playing a game that Zara loved, and Ethan, probably not so much, but he was a good sport about it. Pretty Pretty Princess. I’d loved the game, too…when I was little. There were photos of my dad wearing the crown and other jewels, happy as could be, indulging me in playing a ridiculous little girl’s dress-up game just because it pleased me. You were so good to me, Daddy.

And there was Ethan sporting a turquoise necklace and matching earrings, battling Zara for the win. “Ah ha, the black ring is gone!” he boasted across the table from Zara, in her blue and yellow party dress.

“But you don’t have the crown,” she smirked, poking her finger into the frosting on her cupcake and licking it off.

“I probably will win it, though,” he teased, “I think I’d look good in a crown.”

Zara giggled at him, and my heart just melted into a puddle of goo. I knew Ethan would be such an amazing father. Just watching him interact with Zara was a beautiful thing. It made my heart so happy, I needed to rub my belly to remind myself everything was still real. Yep, that was a miniature rump underneath my hand. I grinned as I worked out the position of head vs. legs and decided that my butterfly angel was upside down. It was fun to figure things like that out.

Sometimes my new life felt more than a little unreal. So much had changed in such a short time. But, moving forward was my only option, and desire. With Ethan’s commitment to me, his devotion and love, and our child, how could I want anything else?

My companion whined softly beside me. Ethan and Zara looked over and spotted us. I checked Ethan’s reaction, and decided to just stand there, and smile. Hoping for the best, and waiting for him to figure it all out.

“YOUR doggy looks like Sir Frisk,” Zara informed me.

“And who is Sir Frisk, may I ask?”

“A dog in a painting at my house.”

“Really.” I was very intrigued by this information. I’d checked out most of the art at Hannah and Freddy’s Hallborough, but I didn’t remember a dog painting.

“I’ll show you when I go back home. It’s a very good painting of a dog, Auntie Brynne.” She nodded her head seriously, and petted him all the way down his back, in long, careful sweeps. “And he looks just like him,” she reminded me.

My new dog must’ve thought he’d died and landed in doggy heaven, as he lay at Ethan’s feet with a very dedicated little girl working over his freshly washed fur with lots of soft stroking. I don’t think he could’ve been coaxed out of the house if our lives depended on it.

“So, while I’m fighting to take the crown in this game, you’re collecting stray animals and bringing them home?” he asked dryly, giving me the added tilt of his head with an eyebrow raise. And so devastatingly sexy doing it, I could lick him.

“’Fraid so, Blackstone,” I shot back confidently. “He’s a good one.”

“Well, that’s obvious, my darling. He chose you, so he must be good,” Ethan said, bending down to rub under his chin. “Are you going to protect your mistress and keep her from danger, young sir?” He spoke earnestly to the dog, eye to eye, man to man. “Hmmm? Because, it’s a very important charge, but somebody’s got to do it. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

I laughed at how sweet he was about everything I tried to do. Could there be any man on earth more perfect than my man? Highly doubtful. “So you approve of him being our new guard dog here in the country?”

“I do, my beauty.”

“WHAT a beautiful dog. Oh, my God, he looks just like Sir Frisk.” Hannah bent down to pet him and held his face as she studied him thoroughly. “He could be his descendant.”

“So everyone keeps telling me. I want to see this painting.”

“I’ll show you,” Zara said, grabbing hold of my hand.

Ethan stayed in the kitchen with his sister. He wasn’t quite up to navigating marble staircases like the one at Hallborough just yet. “You take good care of your mistress, young sir,” Ethan told the dog in a serious tone. “And you be careful, too,” he told me, with a pat to my belly, and a kiss to my forehead.

“I will.” I put my hand to his cheek and mouthed, love you.

“Me too,” he whispered. That was my Ethan, still controlling and protecting even while semi-mobile and using crutches. He was determined to be off the crutches by baby time and just have the walking boot. I knew he was disappointed he couldn’t do some of the things he wanted, but he hadn’t uttered a single complaint. Broken legs heal.

Zara took us to the guest wing of the house. The part they used for the bed & breakfast, which was why I hadn’t seen the portrait of Sir Frisk before. I’d been to the gallery, of course, which in stately homes such as Hallborough, was simply an elegant room in which to showcase the private collection of art the family had acquired over time. Hallborough’s gallery had quite a few marble sculptures, and some lovely paintings, but I’d not spent a lot of time over here studying everything in minute detail. I hadn’t had the time, and had been working on my own garden and decorating projects at Stonewell.

She stopped us at the end of a hallway, with doors on either side opening into guest rooms. Right above a carved table hung a large painting of a German Shepherd in rich detail, almost photographic in its execution. I immediately thought of the camera obscura and figured the artist must have employed the use of one to do this portrait. The subject did, indeed, look like my new pet, in coloring and in body shape. A gold plate had been made and attached at the bottom of the ornate frame with the title of the work Sir Frisk engraved into the brass.

“Well, that is something, now, isn’t it?” I grinned at Zara. “They do look almost exactly alike.”

She giggled. “Said so, Auntie Brynne.”

“I like the name. Do you like it, Zara?”

She gave me a serious nod. “That’s his name. Sir Frisk,” she said with authority, as if the decision had been made from the beginning. “He can play with Rags and they will be best friends.”