Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(29)

Willow wondered if the girl's fluttering eyelashes and bold smile had  registered on Morgan, but gratifyingly she rather thought not. He'd been  equally oblivious to other women's interested glances in the past too,  although she'd found them irritating to say the least.

She forgot about the nurse when she walked into Beth's room, knowing  she'd never forget the look on her sister's face when Beth saw her. She  spent the next little while between contractions assuring Beth that of  course the baby was fine and lots came early, and were happy and  healthy; praying inwardly all the time it was true. Beth would never  forgive herself if things went wrong.                       
       
           



       

As time went on the contractions got stronger and the minutes between  them less, but Beth wouldn't hear of her leaving. It was another three  hours before the baby was born. It was a boy and he was a good weight,  his lusty lungs proclaiming all was well as he bellowed his way into the  world.

Willow was misty-eyed and Peter was crying unashamedly, but Beth was  radiant as the nurse put the baby into her arms. 'This is David Peter,'  she said, glancing at Willow who nodded her understanding. David had  been their father's name. As Beth glanced towards the window, she seemed  to realise it was snowing for the first time. 'How did you get here?'  she asked. 'You didn't drive in this, did you?'

Willow smiled at her sister. 'I came courtesy of Morgan's white horse,  although it was the four by four this time, not the Harley.'

It was totally against hospital rules, the nurse murmured a little while  later after she had been to see the sister, but what with the storm and  all everything was topsy-turvy tonight. If Mr Wright only stayed for a  minute or two the sister would turn a blind eye this once. Beth nodded  and assured the nurse sixty seconds would do it. 'Go and fetch him,' she  said to Willow after the nurse had left. 'I want him to feel included  in this; but for him you wouldn't have got here tonight.'

It was more than that and they both knew it. Willow hugged her sister.  'I love you,' she whispered softly, marvelling at how her world-which  had seemed so disastrously out of kilter when she had stumbled through  the snow to Morgan's house earlier-was righting itself. If she had the  courage of her convictions, that was.

The waiting room was in semi-darkness when she reached it, the subdued  lighting presumably so that its occupants could grab a little sleep if  they needed it. It had worked with Morgan anyway.

Willow tiptoed in. How he had managed to fall asleep on one of the  so-called 'comfy' chairs in the waiting room she didn't know. The wooden  arms and plastic stretched tight over lumpy stuffing would have kept a  sleeping-sicknesssufferer awake. But he was dead to the world, his long  legs stretched out at an impossible angle and his head draped over the  back of the chair.

It was the first time she had been able to study his face without fear  of those piercing eyes arresting her. He looked exhausted. Her gaze  stroked over the tough masculine features. But younger, more susceptible  than when he was awake. How couldn't she have seen his vulnerability  before?

Because she had been too hung up on the past to look beyond herself and her own feelings.

The truth was uncomfortable but then it often was. When he had spoken of  his childhood and youth she hadn't pressed him for details, telling  herself it was probably too painful for him to share. But that had been  an excuse. She had been frightened of learning anything that would  endear him further to her. The experiences he had gone through as a boy  had shaped him into the complicated and enigmatic man he was today, that  was for sure, but he had a capacity for love and tenderness she  couldn't ignore any longer. She couldn't let him slip through her  fingers.

She had to tell him how she felt and trust she hadn't ruined everything.  She nodded to the thought, ignoring the panic that accompanied it. She  owed him that at least.

Willow knelt down beside the chair, drinking in the sight and scent of  him. He'd discarded the thick leather jacket he'd worn in the car and  his sweater did little to disguise the width of his chest and muscled  strength of his shoulders. His hair had got damp as they'd walked and  now it curled slightly over his forehead, accentuating the suggestion of  boyishness. He was a man of contradictions, impossible to fathom.

'Morgan?' She touched his arm gently, her voice little more than a whisper. 'Morgan, wake up. It's me, Willow.'

His eyelids flickered and opened slowly but he didn't move. His voice so  low she could barely make out the words, he murmured, 'I was dreaming  of you.'

'A good dream?' she whispered, loving him so much it hurt.

His eyes seemed bluer than she'd ever seen them before and the faint  lines radiating from their corners crinkled as he smiled. 'X-rated.'                       
       
           



       

It was probably unfair to take advantage of him when he was still half  asleep, but it was now or never. 'I lied to you this afternoon,' she  said softly. 'I do love you. I love you like I never thought it was  possible to love anyone and I've known it for a while. Can-can you  forgive me?'

He didn't move, not a muscle. For what seemed an endless moment he stared at her, his face unreadable.

Willow stared back, equally immobile, holding her breath as her heart  thudded so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it. Let it be all  right, she prayed. Please let it be all right.

And then, as though lit from within, the hard rugged features melted in a  smile that was beautiful. He opened his arms as he sat up in the chair  and she scrambled into them, tilting her head back for his kiss, her  mouth as hungry as his.

'I love you, I do, I do,' she murmured feverishly between kisses. 'And  I'm so sorry I hurt you. I hated myself this afternoon but I was so  scared, Morgan. I still am scared. I can't help it.'

'And you think I'm not?' he murmured against her lips. 'Sweetheart, this  frightens me to the core. My life was all mapped out and I was doing  very nicely until you came along and blew me out of the water.'

'Did I?'

'Did you what?'

'Blow you out of the water.'

'Oh, baby, did you ever.'

They kissed again, straining together in an agony of need and murmuring  incoherent words of love until a sound in the corridor outside brought  them back to earth. Raising his head reluctantly, Morgan said softly,  'Beth? How is she?'

'She's fine, the baby too. They've got a little boy and you're allowed  to see him, just for a minute. You're not supposed to but Beth got  special permission.'

'Special permission, eh?' He kissed her nose, his voice teasing to  disguise the gratification he felt at being included. 'This is pure you,  you know,' he said tenderly, 'finally telling me you love me in a  hospital waiting room with a blizzard outside and your sister just  having given birth. It should have been over an intimate meal for two  with wine and candles and guitars throbbing in the background.'

Willow giggled. 'You told me you loved me in the middle of a freezing  cold ploughed field when we were having a row,' she reminded him.

'Oh, boy, do we have a lot to make up for … ' He took her face in his big  hands, smiling shakily as he murmured, 'But in for a penny, in for a  pound. This should be done with music and a ring to hand and me on one  knee but I have to know. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife, to have  and to hold for ever?'

Somewhere outside their room a bell was being rung impatiently; someone  was clattering along with what sounded like a trolley in the corridor  and the odd baby or two were crying in the background. The smell of  antiseptic was strong along with that faint odour peculiar to all  hospitals, which was impossible to pin down. Willow thought she had  never been in such a perfect place. 'Yes,' she said, taking his lips in a  kiss that was fierce. 'Yes, yes, yes.'

Beth's squeal of delight brought the nurse running when Willow gave her  sister the news after she and Morgan had held David Peter for a moment  or two. For such a big man, Morgan had held the tiny infant with a  tender delicacy that had wrenched her heart. She'd had a vision of the  future, of Morgan cradling their own baby with the same sweet  gentleness, and it had reduced her to tears. Not that it mattered. Tears  and smiles and laughter were flowing with abandon and had infected  everyone with the same weakness.

By the time she and Morgan returned to the waiting room Willow felt  dizzy with happiness. That and tiredness. It was now gone three in the  morning. She felt ridiculously hungry too but the hospital restaurant  and café didn't open for breakfast for another five hours. Morgan found a  snack machine and returned with crisps, chocolate bars and two paper  cups holding a murky brown liquid that purported to be hot chocolate.