The Purest of Diamonds(82)

                ‘Pretty fat? Pretty awful?’

                ‘Pretty pregnant,’ he argued, dragging her into his arms. ‘And you’ve got paint on your nose,’ he murmured, brushing her lips with his.

                ‘Sorry—’

                ‘Don’t be.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘Have you been eating while I’ve been away?’ She looked pale, he thought.

                ‘Of course I have.’

                ‘Not convinced, Leila. But I’m going to make it right. Break out the beer for me, the juice for you—’

                ‘And you’ll get cooking?’ Her smile lit up her face. ‘This I have to see.’

                His heart soared as she laughed. ‘This you’re going to see, señorita. And while we’re on the subject of making Christmas—you haven’t done too badly yourself. You’ve added some more decorations.’

                ‘Do you like it?’ she said, glancing round at the traditional Scandinavian ornaments. ‘I haven’t overdone it?’

                ‘Are you kidding?’ He grinned. ‘Christmas can never be overdone.’

                There was a big pine tree festooned with tiny bells and flags to one side of the crackling fire, and while many of the decorations appeared to be recently home-made, others were a bit battered, and obviously much loved after many outings. There was a lot of red and white fabric, which looked great against the pine walls of the cabin. The hems of the curtains, the cushions, the throws, were all heavily embroidered with dainty, though intricate, cross-stitch.

                ‘My grandmother’s work,’ Leila explained, seeing him looking at it. ‘They don’t come out very often, but I changed them especially for you.’

                There were hearts and bells and Santa and Mrs Claus on the window ledges, and on the table an arrangement of candles, moss and berries. It was a homely setting and one that warmed him through. ‘This is quite something to live up to,’ he observed as he rolled up his sleeves. ‘I’d better get cooking—’

                ‘Yes, you better had. Would you like a glass of eggnog to go with that beer?’

                ‘I think I should keep a clear head, don’t you?’

                Before she could answer him, he dragged her into his arms. ‘Happy Christmas, Leila Skavanga. Do you have any idea how much I love you?’

                ‘You love me?’

                ‘Yes, I do. Of course I do!’

                She smiled cheekily at him. ‘Then I hope you can prove it again and again.’

                ‘In so many ways,’ he promised softly. Staring deep into Leila’s eyes, he sank into her calm, loving expression. He’d missed her so much.

                ‘Your last Christmas without babies,’ he commented wryly, pulling back to start cooking. ‘Make the most of it—it’s sleepless nights from here on in.’

                ‘I can’t wait.’

                ‘It will be hard work.’

                ‘I’m looking forward to that too.’

                And he wanted to be part of it—now more than ever.