The Unexpected Baby(50)

‘I don’t think I deserve you.’ His voice was rough, but his hand was gentle as it moved on her tummy again, protectively gentle. ‘But I promise you this. I will love this child as if it were my own. Not for Sam’s sake, and not because I love its mother. But for its own sake.’

Emotional tears streaked her face and he kissed them lovingly away. She could feel the fine tremors that shook his taut body as he found her lips and parted them with his, and the last coherent thought she had was that Catherine had not been given the opportunity to wipe away those misconceptions of his about coming a poor second-best to his brightly burning, will o’ the wisp brother.

He had put those aside himself. Dismissed ancient sibling jealousy and reclaimed his own.

This much loved—adored—husband of hers was an honourable man.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he told her, his voice raw with need. ‘Let me show you how I love you.’ He took her hands and lifted them, turned them, placed fervent kisses in the centre of each curled palm. Then he lifted his head. The lamplight gilded the skin that was pulled tightly over his bones, his smoky eyes locking intently with hers. ‘Show me you forgive me.’

Emotion shook her; she couldn’t speak. She wound her arms around his neck again and kissed him fiercely, and he returned her frenzy as, hands trembling, they tore the clothes from each other’s bodies until flesh met burning flesh.

She heard him groan and curled her legs around his body, inviting him to enter her. She heard the slow, inward drag of his breath, saw his tough jaw tighten and knew a second’s terrible fear that this was all going wrong, before he said raggedly, ‘I’m wild for you, afraid of hurting you and the baby. Help me to love you gently.’

She melted against him and thought she was in paradise. Nothing else could have spelled out his love for her more perfectly.

‘We’ll make it as slow and long and lingering as you like, my darling,’ she promised as he slid gently, slowly within her, and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him and knew she was in paradise.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE evening sun was low, spreading misty purple shadows in the valleys. Elena moved around the kitchen preparing supper. Sautéed clams with garlic and lemon, and parsley from her garden. Her eyes were inevitably drawn from the task in hand over the terrace, to where Jed was dragging the hose around the garden, dressed only in worn denim cut-offs and espadrilles.

A sensation that was near to pain clutched at her heart. Oh, dear heaven, how she loved this man! Over the two days they’d spent here the new intensity of their love had revealed itself in every touch, every caress, every look and every word. Their love for each other doubly precious because they had so nearly lost each other.

‘Would you prefer it if we stayed here until the baby’s born?’ he’d asked her this morning as they’d stood on the terrace contemplating what needed to be done today in the rioting garden, not wanting to set foot outside their secluded paradise. His arms had come around her, pulling her into his body, his hands softly cradling her breasts through the gauzy aqua cotton of the loose sundress she’d been wearing over nothing at all.

‘Would you mind?’ She’d tipped her head back, nuzzling her lips against his throat, feeling the beat of his pulse, feeling her breasts swell invitingly beneath his tormenting hands.

‘I’d prefer it. This place suits you, and it’s certainly grabbed my affection. We could visit Netherhaye once in a while, just to keep the old place aired, and have Christmas there every year and invite the Mums. Because I’ve been thinking; I can just as easily keep an eye on the business from here. We could spend the bulk of our time here, making babies.’ His voice had teased, taking every last one of her senses and giving them delight. ‘Would you like that?’

She’d turned in his arms then, pushing herself against him, holding him to her heart, closing her eyes on a ragged breath as she’d felt his body stir with desire. ‘I want to give you babies,’ she’d told him, her voice ferocious with love. ‘Dozens of them!’

And now this big-hearted man of hers was winding the hose back on its reel, and the play of muscles across his powerful back and shoulders mesmerised her, making her throat tighten with emotion. He was so beautiful.

And he would be hungry. He’d worked hard in the garden all afternoon, wanting her with him but not allowing her to do more than idly dead-head the blossoms. He was very determinedly taking care of her.

She finished tossing the salad as he straightened up from his task. He’d be with her in a matter of seconds. All the ingredients were ready; she could cook the clams while he had his shower.