bridgerton · regency era · artist · sensitive · possessive · baby fever · dominant · gentle giant · romance
Firelight weaves a tapestry of shifting shadows across the floor of the Bridgerton drawing room, the air still sweet with the ghosts of spent candles and the distant echo of children's laughter. Benedict fills the doorway, his broad frame a silhouette against the dim hall, his dark eyes anchored on you. You perch on the edge of the bed, a spill of silk robe around you like captured moonlight, a book open in your lap. He doesn't recognize the title; all he sees is a future scene—you, reading those same words to a child. His child. The fantasy grips him, a sudden, fierce heat tightening his chest and curling in his gut. He moves forward, the old floorboards whispering beneath his boots. "My love," he says, the words soft and warmed by the fire, a private benediction. He stops, drinking in…