Changing Roles

by Melanie Moreland

  “And you?” I asked hopefully.

  “The dress I saw last week—the one I thought was lovely but had no place to wear it? In the vintage shop?”

  I remembered the dress, or at least remembered telling her to buy it. The color had caught my eye—the deep red standing out in the window as Shelby had gazed at it. I loved her in red, and I knew she’d look lovely in it; although I had no idea what the dress itself looked like anymore. “Buy it,” I ordered her. “Marry me in it.”

  She tilted her head. “Yes.”

  I pulled her down on the blanket with me, my body covering hers. Our mouths met in a long, slow, deep kiss. Our tongues stroked softly, celebrating the moment. I pulled back panting. “You’ll be my wife.”

  “Yes.”

  “Forever.”

  “Yes.”

  I hesitated as I looked at her. “Shelby—”

  “What is it?”

  “I want children with you.”

  “I want them too.”

  “Soon?”

  “Well, I’m not getting any younger.”

  I kissed her hard. “Stop it.” I growled. I hated when she brought up her age.

  She frowned. “In this case, it’s true, Liam.”

  “Then I guess we need to get married soon and get you pregnant—fast.” I winked at her. “What a hardship that is going to be. All that shagging.”

  She giggled. “Indeed.”

  I turned serious. “You want that, Shelby? Children? With me? Soon?”

  She pulled my mouth to hers. “I’ll throw my pills out tonight, if you want.”

  “I want.”

  The day was perfect. Everyone was surprised and excited when they discovered our plans, arriving to find tables set out, complete with flowers and candles. I waited with the local vicar as Shelby made her way to me, taking the trip alone, the way she wanted.

  “I give myself to you,” she explained.

  The sinking sun caught her hair as it floated around her shoulders. It glimmered off the antique hair clips I had given her to mark our day. The lace of her red dress lifted in the breeze, catching the same shimmering rays. She glowed with happiness as she took my hand and let me make the final few steps of our journey at her side—where I planned to stay for the rest of my life. The scent of the white roses she carried would always remind me of this day and her beauty.

  She smiled at the tie I had added, patting it gently. It matched the garter I knew the dress hid. I planned on helping her remove it later—with my teeth.

  I was talented that way.

  She made it through her vows, her voice clear although quivering at times. I wasn’t able to read the words I’d written. My damn allergies must have acted up, and for some reason, they were nothing but a blur on the small piece of card stock where I’d written them. I did what I did best and winged it. I promised her many things, which included my undying devotion, foot rubs, movie marathons, and all the OJ she could possibly handle.

  My adlib made her laugh, although most people were mystified at my insistence that vitamin C was a daily necessity and had to be included in my marriage vows.

  “Oh, Oscar,” she whispered. “Only you.”

  I winked at her. “Only me for the rest of your life.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  I kissed her before we were pronounced husband and wife.

  No one objected too strenuously.

  There was lots of music and dancing after the vows. Shelby’s smile was brighter than the sun when I swept her into my arms as “The Lady in Red” played, and our guests clapped and shared our joy. And of course, many wishes and hugs were given. My mum cried. Shelby cried. Even Ev got weepy. I was fine except for the allergies.

  Only a few people knew what the day was for, and they all helped. Douglas arranged for one of the cameramen to film the vows and take pictures. Mum and Caroline made most of the other arrangements and no one got suspicious. We had a completely press-free day to remember. Us, our friends, and family celebrating love.

  Celebrating us.

  And now as the car pulled up to the house, I was anxious to see my wife. Anxious to hold her and then tease her with the kilt. We had left for Scotland a couple of days after the wedding. The first time Shelby had seen me in a kilt, her eyes had widened, and it had been her dragging me off somewhere private. I had snuck a kilt home with me the first weekend and had to pretend not to know how it disappeared come Monday. It had gotten rather…torn by Shelby’s anxious fingers as she yanked too hard trying to discover exactly what men wore under their kilts.

  She was delighted to find I was a traditionalist.

  I replaced the torn one after confessing to Abby and asked her to order me one of my own. I even got a spare one in case.

  But when I got into the house, it was Shelby who had a surprise for me. Leaning against the door, she leered at me as I took in her appearance, OJ hardening at the sight before him. If I thought she was sexy in a skirt, nothing prepared me for the vision awaiting me.

  Shelby—in a kilt and a waistcoat. Nothing else.

  Her arms and neck were bare, the silky skin glimmering in the sun, her hair tumbling down her shoulders, gleaming in the light. Her breasts were spilling out the front of the tight vest. Her kilt—way shorter than the one I wore, sexier, showing off her slender legs to perfection, her feet bare, toes wiggling in anticipation as she watched me look at her.

  “Hello, my handsome laddie,” she drawled in a perfect Scottish accent I’d never heard her use until now. She had obviously been practicing. “Fancy a go?”

  If the hot rush of desire I felt was anything like what she experienced when she saw me in a kilt, I now understood her need to see me wearing one more often.

  I wanted her.

  Now.

  Hard and fast.

  Right against the wall she was standing beside.

  Wearing her fucking kilt.

  I stepped forward, shutting the door behind me, reaching up blindly to snap the lock. I didn’t want any unexpected visitors.

  “What you have on under yer kilt, me lass?” I crooned as I stepped closer, dropping the bag I was carrying.

  “Why don’t ye come closer and find out fer yourself?” she replied with a wink, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “Aye, I intend to,” I grinned. “I hope yer ready…”

  She arched forward, pushing off the wall, her eyes widening as she took in the ginormous bulge I was now sporting. Reaching down, I cupped my heavy erection as I arched an eyebrow at her. “Brace yerself, lassie.”

  In two long steps, I had her pressed against the wall.

  The buttons on the waistcoat made dull pings as they hit the floor, the material shredded from my strong hands. I didn’t care. I’d buy her another one.

  My pants hit the floor, her anxious fingers making short work of the buttons and zipper. My shirt had already been yanked over my head and disappeared.

  In one move, I had her sexy legs wrapped around my hips. Our bare chests pressed to each other’s, warm, silky skin meeting coarse, unruly hair as they joined and heaved together.

  One flick of my wrist and I found out she was bare and ready for me.

  I possessed her mouth with mine. Deep, plunging, hot, needy.

  I stroked her heat with my fingers. Warm, wet, slick.

  My groans were low and urgent.

  Her whimpers were keening and wanting.

  I surged forward, my cock slamming itself into her heat.

  We both gasped.

  Swiveling hard and fast, I pinned her to the wall with my hips, holding the nape of her neck with my hand as I consumed her mouth, never letting go of her sweet taste.

  She held me tight, grasping my shoulders in desperation as I took her. She gave and gave, and I took and took.

  Hard.

  Pivoting. Thrusting.

  Lifting her higher. Spreading her wider.

  Driving deeper.

  Demanding, taking even more.
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  Needing all she could give me.

  Her entire body locked around mine as she screamed her release into my mouth. In one long, final thrust, I gave her everything I had, groaning and gasping her name.

  Slowly, we sank to the floor, a mass of entwined limbs and soft, sweet kisses and caresses.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Wright,” she murmured against my shoulder. “I missed you.”

  I chuckled into her hair. “Aye—A grand welcome at that, Mrs. Wright.”

  The sun was dipping below the trees, the reflections bouncing off the glass in the window. Shelby curled around me, her head tucked in the crook of my neck, while she drew lazy circles through the sparse hair on my chest with her fingers. I stroked the curve of her shoulder, enjoying being beside her this way.

  “Any other surprises for me, Beaker?”

  “I didn’t know your reaction to me wearing a kilt would be so…powerful.” She lifted her head, eyes dancing as she smiled. “I might have worn one sooner.”

  I captured her lips with mine. “I liked it.”

  She giggled. “I noticed.”

  “Indeed.”

  She settled closer. “How did the shoot go?”

  “Once the weather cooperated, fine. Douglas got what he wanted. He thinks about another six weeks and we’ll wrap.”

  Shelby sighed. “Oh.”

  I tilted up her chin. “That was a sad sigh. Do you not want to go home?”

  She shrugged. “I miss Thor and seeing Ev. But I like it here, Liam. I like the quiet and the peace.”

  “I do too.” I sat up, dragging Shelby with me. I pulled a pile of papers I’d been hiding from the bedside table drawer and handed them to her. She read them, her brow furrowing in confusion. Then her eyes widened, and her head flew up in shock as she realized it was an offer to purchase the house we’d been using as our base in England. We’d both fallen in love with it. I’d married her there, and I wanted to give it to her.

  “I didn’t know the house was for sale,” she gasped. “You want to buy it?”

  “I asked the owner if he would consider selling it.”

  “You want to move here—permanently?”

  “No. Not yet anyway. But we both love this place, and we could use it when we come here to visit. It’s close enough we can get to Mum and Dad and easy to get to London…” My voice trailed off at the look on her face. “It was only an idea. I won’t do it if you hate the thought, Beaker.”

  She shook her head wildly. “I don’t hate it. At all.” Her fingers traced the page she was holding. “You can…afford this?”

  “Hey.”

  I waited until she looked at me. “We. We can afford this. What’s mine is yours. Remember?”

  She nodded slowly. I knew she still had a hard time comprehending my wealth. When I’d repaid Everett what he had put out to cover the debts her ex had left her saddled with, she’d had trouble accepting it, but I had finally persuaded her it was for the best. It had taken weeks to convince her to use the account I had set up for her once I “fired” her as my housekeeper. She still wanted to discuss her purchases, even though I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned with any of them. I humored her though, since I knew she had to get comfortable with the concept.

  Her eyes looked back at the paper she was holding in a tight grip. Confused by her reaction, I pulled open her shaking fingers. “Shelby? Talk to me.”

  “I want this, Liam. I want to be able to come here. More than visit,” she confessed in a quiet voice. “I want to bring up our children in a calm, peaceful place.” She hesitated, biting her lip, then finished her thought. “I don’t want them surrounded by the craziness of LA.”

  “Why are you nervous to tell me this?” I asked her, confused. She had to know I would give her anything she asked for, material or otherwise.

  “You’ve already given up so much for me.”

  “Such as?”

  “You spoke to the press about your private life. You’ve changed your lifestyle, you—”

  I cut her off with a finger pressed to her mouth. A low laugh escaped my lips as I pulled her into my lap, the papers now forgotten. “Yes, you’re right. I gave up a meaningless, lonely existence where I was so afraid of the crowds I had to face, I drugged myself to leave the house. I gave up rattling around in a huge house that was only a place to crash until you came in and made it a home. I filled my life with work, empty things, and meaningless drivel.” I admonished her gently, “Shelby, you gave my life meaning and a sense of purpose. I gave up nothing but a few minutes of privacy and my immaturity. I gained everything with you. I grew up because of you—for you. You’re my best friend, my lover, my wife.” I spread my hand over her stomach. “You will be the mother of my children. And if you want to move here, we will. As long as you’re with me, I don’t care where we live,” I admitted. “I was hoping to convince you to let me buy the place and use it for vacations, thinking maybe, eventually, you’d want to be here more. I’m thrilled you want it as well, my darling girl.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Really?”

  I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t we plan on splitting our time for a while? I’ll finish up my commitments to Douglas and a few other obligations. The house here needs some renovations to make it what I know we’d need to live here permanently. We can go back and forth after the shoot is done, and we’ll do whatever feels right. Mum and Dad can help oversee any work that needs doing here.”

  “Your career?”

  I shrugged. “If the filming is done in the States, we have a house there. If I’m not working, we’re here. Easy.” I teased her stomach with my fingers. “You know how I feel about this, Shelby. As soon as our first child comes, I’m sticking close to home. I don’t want to miss a moment of you being pregnant or miss watching them grow up. I want all the milestones, from conception onward.”

  She started to talk, but I silenced her with my mouth, pressing a kiss to her full lips. “My choice, Shelby. I choose us. I choose you. Every. Single. Time.” I drew back, caressing her cheek, but my tone serious. “You are my world now. Please tell me you know that.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming.”

  I winked as I kissed her again. “There are times when I’ll piss you off, and I’m sure you’ll think you’re having a nightmare.”

  Giggling, she wrinkled her nose at me. Unable to resist, I kissed the end of it, making her giggle again. I loved hearing that sound.

  Her hand covered mine that was still resting on her stomach. “What if we just made a baby?” she asked.

  My smile was wide. “Nothing would make me happier. We’ll simply fast-track our plans.”

  “You’re amazing,” she whispered. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

  She gasped as I laid her on the bed and hovered over her. “I’m the lucky one. You are everything to me. Everything.”

  I kissed her with all the adoration I was feeling.

  “I love you, Beaker.”

  Her smile lit up the room.

  And my heart.

  “I love you, Oscar.”

  Epilogue

  Liam

  We did make a baby that night. Or one day the next week. Shelby bought more than one kilt, and she wore them a lot. I wore mine too, so we were both in a frenzy most of the week, it seemed. Either way, by the time we arrived back in the States, Shelby was well and truly pregnant. And as usual, I was blind.

  Shelby seemed a bit off and tired. I was crazy wrapping up the movie with Douglas, doing last minute-reshoots and making sure everything was complete before we left. When the words “It’s a wrap,” finally left Douglas’s mouth, I was grateful to head home.

  The house was quiet when I walked in. It seemed strange. No Shelby music, no off-key singing in the kitchen. No Mum. She had been here when I left yesterday, planning on keeping Shelby company as we did a few overnight retakes, then finished off the day.

  Had she left without telling me?
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br />   I found Shelby in bed, propped against the headboard, a book open on her lap and her sexy glasses perched on her nose. I tried not to show my surprise.

  It was only eight, and Shelby was in bed? She was wearing a thick wrap, and I could see the edge of lace peeking out from a long sleeve under it so she wasn’t planning any sexy times.

  So, why was she in bed?

  “Where’s Mum?” I asked.

  “She went to Douglas’s. She and Caroline had plans.”

  I frowned. “You weren’t included?”

  “I wasn’t feeling up to it.”

  Now, I was concerned. I approached the bed. “All right there, Beaker? Should I call in a doctor?” I scratched my head. “It’s early to be in bed.”

  She smiled. “I’m tired.”

  I sat, reaching for her hand. “My point exactly. You’re never in bed at eight.”

  “I’ve never been pregnant before.”

  I was about to reply, but the words dried up in my mouth. My grip on her hand tightened.

  “Preg-pregnant?” I swallowed. “Are ye sure, lass?”

  She laughed. “Oh dear, you’re channeling your mum. She was so excited, she could barely talk.”

  I shook my head to clear it, then moved closer. “You’re carrying my baby, Shelby?” I laid my hand on her flat stomach. “In here?”

  “It tends to work best there, yes,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.

  For a moment, I was struck dumb.

  Shelby was pregnant.

  I was going to be a dad.

  Talking about it, planning it, making flippant remarks about it—none of it was real. It was a thought, an image—an idea. None of it prepared me for this moment.

  For the surge of joy.

  The instant worry and wonder.

  The insane terror of the idea that I was going to be responsible for a child.

  A baby.

  My baby.

  I stood and let out a whoop. I danced a fast jig. I lunged forward and kissed Shelby’s sweet, smiling mouth—hard. I cupped her cheeks and rambled incessantly, promising to be a good dad. I dropped to my knees, pushing away the blanket and shawl, kissing her stomach, and talking to the small being inside.