A wife and children was something he'd never dared to dream for. Clan McDuck would die with him by virtue of his deformity and the threat of his children inheriting it making him an unappealing candidate to any rational woman.

But as she stroked his head, he let himself imagine it a little. Just for a brief moment he saw flashes of her dressed in white and then the two of them posing for a portrait, a baby on his good knee and another in her belly.

He opened his eyes, dismissing the impossibilities. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice rough.