Sweet Surrender With the Millionaire(32)

Willow smiled back. He might have reverted to the cool, slightly laconic  Morgan he liked to show the world, but a little while ago he'd been  beside himself. It had certainly been a baptism of fire into parenthood.  She'd had mild backache for the last twenty-four hours and had been  slightly uncomfortable after lunch, but none of them had dreamed she was  in labour. And now they had two daughters. She glanced down at the  babies nestled against her and then looked at Morgan. The blue eyes were  waiting for her and their expression touched her to the core.                       
       
           



       

Sometimes in the night he would reach for her to hold her close, not  necessarily to make love but just to enfold her into him and feel her  breathing and warm against him. She knew she was his world and every day  she thanked God for what they had. And now they were parents and their  love, like the amoeba, would metamorphose to embrace their family. And  they had plans for the future, plans as yet they hadn't shared with  anyone else.

This house was so big and the grounds were wonderful, and although they  wanted another child of their own in the future they had discussed  adopting a couple-perhaps even more-of older children who had been  placed in social care through no fault of their own. Children with  health problems maybe, or who were disabled in some way-children no one  else wanted to adopt because it might be too much of a headache.

Morgan remembered so well how he had wanted a family and a home of his  own when he had been growing up, how desperately he had tried to make  his relatives love and keep him, how he had felt when eventually he had  been moved on to the next place. And eventually he had stopped hoping or  believing that anyone would ever want him, hiding behind toughness and  autonomy and taking the world by the throat.

They had talked through the painful memories together, slowly bringing  into the light the recollection of cold dark nights when a little boy  had been curled up in a strange bed yet again, or standing apart from  the family he happened to be with watching other children receiving  gifts or sweets or a hug, and knowing there was none for him.

Their family would be a family, they were united on this, and their  children would be loved and cared for regardless of whether they were  theirs biologically or not. Kitty and Jim would be perfect grandparents  and right on tap to help too, because they didn't fool themselves things  would always be easy or plain sailing. Not where damaged little people  were concerned. But love could move mountains and break down the most  carefully constructed barricades; it had smashed those around Morgan's  heart, hadn't it? Her own too.

The babies had stopped suckling, and as Beth helped the midwife check  them over in their little individual Moses baskets Willow reached up and  touched Morgan's cheek. 'I love you so much,' she whispered. 'And I'm  so blissfully happy.'

He brought her fingers to his lips, kissing each one. 'I love you too. Thank you for our beautiful daughters.'

'Pretty personalised Christmas gift, don't you think?'

He smiled quizzically. 'What are you going to do for next year? How on earth are you going to top this?'

She dimpled up at him, and as Kitty walked in with a tray whispered, 'I'll think of something.'

'Now that, my love, I don't doubt … '