* * *
“Good evening, Mr. Grant.” The concierge smiled his greeting.
It was nice not to be in disguise, and to be able to enjoy fine hotels and service.
While he appreciated the Pullman car, he definitely didn’t want to live in one for long.
“Good evening to you, Stephen.”
He handed over the stack of papers.
“Would you please see that this is wrapped carefully and sent by special carrier to this man?”
He wrote the name and address.
“Of course.”
Stephen bowed then handed Max a folded piece of paper.
“This arrived just minutes ago. There wasn’t time to deliver it upstairs.”
Max flipped the yellow Western Union paper open and quickly scanned the contents.
He laughed.
“Better send up a bottle of champagne, Stephen. I’m sure my wife will want to celebrate this.”
“Another bottle, sir?”
Max’s brows dipped in question, wondering what kind of mischief Abby was up to.
“Mrs. Grant ordered a bottle along with a fine steak dinner and all the trimmings for when you returned.” He coughed discretely. “I do believe she thought you would be later, sir. She also ordered a bath, which I am sure was delivered not more than five minutes ago.”
Max almost groaned as he hurried for the stairs.
“Hold off on that meal, Stephen.”
“How long, sir?”
Max hesitated, one foot above the other on the stairs. He grinned.
“I’ll send word.”
He took the stairs two at a time, fumbling in his pocket for his key before he reached the landing. He quieted his breathing and silently let himself into the room, locking the door behind him. He heard Abby humming in the other room. He took off his coat and pulled his shirt from his trousers, unbuttoning it as he went. The sight that greeted him when he entered their bedroom froze him at the threshold. Abby stood in the copper hipbath, water glistening on her bare skin. Her back was to him, and his gaze slid from the pile of beautiful red curls atop her head, along the curve of her neck and spine. His fingers itched to span her narrow waist and slide over her satiny hips.
“It isn’t polite to interrupt a lady in her bath.” She gave him a seductive smile over her shoulder.
He saw his reflection in the mirror on the bureau, knowing she’d seen him gawking at her. Well, she was his wife, after all.
“Perhaps I thought to join you.”
She slowly turned. Her rosy breasts bobbed, nipples distended and waiting for his kiss. Water droplets from her bath glistened on her skin like a thousand diamonds. Without knowing how he got there, he was suddenly next to the tub. She reached out and slid his shirt from his shoulders, her hands caressing his chest.
Her thumbs circled his nipples, and he felt his manhood pulse for release. In a slow, tortuous manner, she slid her hands down his stomach, tucking her fingers beneath the band of his trousers. Max still had a hard time believing she was his—that she loved him and continually gave herself to him in passion. Monty did try to tell him what love was like, but…
“Before you scatter my wits well beyond my ability to collect them, I thought you would like to know that Monty sent a telegram. Sarah has delivered a baby girl.”
She squealed at his news, throwing her arms around his neck and plastering her wet, naked body against his bare chest. He forgot everything else he intended to say. He was more interested in getting her to bed. He put his hands on her buttocks to lift her out of the bath. She locked her legs around his waist. Her hot center rubbed against his bare stomach and it was just about his undoing. Then she licked his ear and that was his undoing.
“Max,” she whispered throatily. “That means Monty and Sarah have three children and we have none. I don’t think that’s quite fair, do you?”
The simplest mathematics were beyond him at that moment. He tilted her back on the bed, kissing her throat and her shoulder, working his way to her breasts. He mumbled against her soft mounds, “You have to remember they’ve been married longer than we have.”
He sucked the tip of one breast into his mouth. Abby gave a little sigh, and he was heartily glad she liked his ministrations.
“Well,” she said, sliding her fingers across his back and then around the band of his trousers to the fastenings. “I think we can catch up with practice.”
He groaned when her cool hands touched his hot skin.
“Lots of practice,” he whispered just before his lips covered hers.
Epilogue
Max really knew how to impress a lady, Abby thought while she dressed for the evening. He’d reserved the entire top floor of the Willard Inter-Continental Hotel in Washington for both their families to celebrate their wedding, and tonight they would attend the renowned Washington Symphony. She clasped the slender gold chain around her neck, a miniature pocket watch nestled at her breasts. It was another of the many presents he’d given her since their return to Boston two months ago. Her father was delighted with their marriage. Her mother finally reconciled herself to the loss of Dilbert Crabtree when she discovered Max’s lineage.
“Unca Max!”
Two-year-old cherub, Tabor, followed closely by his brother, Alex, came flying through the door that connected their suite to Monty and Sarah’s. She’d fallen in love with Max’s nephews the moment she met them. She hoped her babies looked as much like Max as Alex and Tabor did their father. She watched Max grab both youngsters, one under each arm, and turn in circles. He laughed, and the boys squealed in delight.
“I’m sorry.” Sarah followed close behind her sons, baby Abigail in her arms.
Abby still couldn’t believe they’d named their daughter after her, but Monty said it was in hopes she would grow to be independent and full of strength and determination. Just like Abby.
“You know they’re no bother,” she answered as she clucked the baby under the chin and smiled at the giggles coming from across the room. She turned and watched Max fall onto the bed, the youngsters pouncing on his stomach and eliciting a groan.
“Max is going to make a wonderful father,” Sarah said.
Abby’s hand slid to her stomach. The wonderful surprise she had for Max was still a tightly guarded secret.
“I am just so happy he has made amends with his own father.”
Max had finally understood his father’s terrible loss when his mother died so early in their marriage. By choosing a dangerous profession, he’d worried his father even more, and he’d lashed out in anger instead of love. Now that was resolved, and the senior Grant, along with his wife, Jessica, and Max’s four sisters were all closeted down the hall in another group of suites. Sarah headed over to corral her sons.
“Come here, rapscallions, your nanny is waiting with your supper.”
“Whom are you talking about?”
Abby laughed, taking in the tangle of arms and legs on the bed.
“It does appear that in the Grant family, there are no men but only bigger boys,”
Sarah replied, herding the boys through the door and closing it behind her, leaving Abby and Max in peace once again.
“Are you adverse to foregoing your suffragist’s dream and instead being married into the Grant family, madam?”
Max slid his arms around her and pulled her close, nibbling on her neck. She watched their reflection in the mirror—his hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with good humor. Some days she couldn’t believe how much Max had changed. No longer the dark, self-decrepitating man she met in Topeka, he was now full of laughter and light.
“What good is writing a book for independent women if it means giving you up, wonderful husband of mine? Besides, Mary Wollstonecraft did say that love, as an heroic passion, appears only once in a lifetime.”
He laughed.
“I should have known you’d find a way to toss one of your fearsome four into the conversation.”
“You would
n’t have regrets, would you, if I said we were going to add to the family populace late this winter?”
Max met her gaze in the mirror.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his hands gently caressing her still flat stomach. She couldn’t define what she heard in his voice.
“Don’t you want a family?”
He turned her to face him.
“It’s something I never thought I would have in this lifetime until I met you. I can’t imagine anything more wonderful on this earth, Angel, than to see our babe nursing at your breast.”
He gave her a kiss that told her just exactly how he felt.
“Can we stay in tonight, Max? Just the two of us?”
Since they’d arrived in Washington several days ago, he had them on the go. She really wanted to enjoy this special time with him, regardless of her parents and his family right next door. He let go of her and straightened his cravat then pulled on the jacket to his formal eveningwear. He winked.
“I would love to, but I think you’ll enjoy tonight’s performance.”
He leaned forward to whisper wickedly in her ear.
“And I am not speaking strictly of the symphony.”
* * *
Janice, Josephine, Jacqueline and Jillian—Max’s half-sisters—chattered excitedly as everyone descended the carriages at the Washington Symphony. Girls their ages usually didn’t attend events such as this. Max, however, arranged everything for this celebration, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to be excluded. The concert hall was completely full, but their seats were premium. Throughout the evening, Abby enjoyed the sequence of composers that were played by the many gifted musicians on stage. Just before the finale, however, the orchestra took a short intermission to rearrange and tune their instruments. The conductor took his position, then turned to the audience.
“The final selection for this evening is by a new composer, who happens to be with us tonight. If she would so favor us by accompanying the orchestra on the piano, I am sure the audience will be delighted.”
A murmur went through the audience, for this was certainly an unusual change.
“This newest concerto is by Abigail Faith O’Brien Grant.”
The conductor looked straight at her. She gasped, flabbergasted. The wonderful Blue Jays squealed in delight, and her father stood, applauding loudly.
Max smiled at her surprise and held out his hand to accompany her to the stage. As she began the sweet refrains of the concerto, she looked over at Max, standing proudly in the wings of the stage. She recalled her daydreams of just a year ago when she had told Tess she wanted a husband who would be dreamy-eyed over her success and stand docilely off stage to her life. Max was anything but docile and he had quickly taken center stage in her life. She could admit they were both a bit dreamy-eyed, and she knew he truly would lay down his life for her. But because she loved him beyond all reason, she would do no less for him.
The End
Barbara Baldwin books also published by Books We Love
Lost Knight of Arabia
Spinning Through Time
A Game of Love
Always Believe
Prospecting for Love
If Wishes Were Magic
Barbara was born in California and now resides in the Midwest. She loves to travel and explore new places, which usually means each of her novels is set in a different locale. She has been published in formats from poetry and short stories to full-length fiction. She really loves writing romance, whether it is contemporary, historical or time travel. Just for fun, each year she writes a Christmas short story for family and friends—some heartfelt and others whimsical — but always a gift from her heart. She has an MA in Communication and has taught every grade from Kindergarten to college. Visit her website at http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin.
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