Seductive as Flame

by Susan Johnson

  When he finally stopped, it was for her, not him. She was more fragile now regardless what she said. He noticed her fatigue. Although the state he was in, he very much wanted to go on. He was nowhere near done.

  By sheer will, he restrained himself, and when he’d gotten his breathing under control and had subdued his demanding cock, he lay like a shriven monk with his wife-to-be resting in his arms. He was still struggling with his libido, so he didn’t hear her at first. Dragging himself to attention, he glanced down at her. “What did you say, dear? I was half dreaming.”

  “You’re tired, aren’t you, after your long day?”

  He wasn’t quite sure what she meant, although in the past he would have, and immediately said no. Tonight, he chose a neutral reply. “I’m not too tired. You were saying?”

  “I was just saying how happy I am now that you’re here. I was absolutely distraught when you didn’t arrive on the train that first time. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Why would you think that?” he asked with male naiveté. “You must have seen my telegram when you got home.”

  “I considered it just another excuse. It’s easy to send a telegram.”

  Not so easy for his men to brave the hazardous roads, but he wasn’t about to point that out. “I won’t do that to you. Make excuses. Not ever.”

  “Promise?” Her eyes suddenly welled with tears. “Oh, God, I never would have even thought of anything so stupid before. It’s the baby. I’m impossibly weepy and clingy now. It’s disgusting.”

  “I like you clingy. You have my permission to be as clingy as you wish.” He brushed a fingertip over the curve of her breast and smiled. “Preferably without clothes on like this.”

  She looked up at him, her wet gaze teasing. “And weepy? I’m afraid it’s a common mark of pregnancy. What do you think about that?”

  He swallowed and manfully said, “Weep away. I’ll have Jenkins order more handkerchiefs.”

  “Cook has ten children. She says you always cry buckets.”

  His spine went rigid. “You don’t want ten children, do you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  He glanced down and studied her face in the lamplight, trying to gauge her sincerity, debating truth versus affection before he answered.

  She grinned. “Scared you, didn’t I?”

  “Perhaps just a little,” he said, the muscles in his back relaxing. “I’m not sure I care to share you that much.” As an only child, raised in a secluded environment, depending on himself more than others, he didn’t know to what extent he could comfortably expand his family circle.

  There was something in his tone—evasion, forbearance, shrinking demur. “Surely, you want the baby?”

  “Yes, yes, above all things.” He said it because he loved her and wanted to please her, although truth be told, the actual reality of a baby was still slightly unnerving. “I’m sorry, darling, I’ve been alone too long.”

  “And now you have me—and our baby—and you love us both.”

  She said it with the bold assurance that had captivated him from the first. “I do, and if you should actually want ten children, I suppose we could talk about it,” he gently said, wanting to give her the world for what she’d given him.

  “We can decide later,” she whispered. “We already have Chris and Julia. Three might be enough.”

  “Whatever you like,” he softly said, meaning it without qualification or restrictions. But beneath his largesse and the wonder of the child to come existed a degree of uncertainty and doubt. Could he protect a child from a childhood such as his? Would he be good enough as a parent? Would he fall into unwanted patterns of behavior? Would he let his child down in some unknown way? The fear of all that was too bewildering and new to marshal into reasonableness.

  And, of course, the greatest stumbling block would be the need to share the great love of his life. To do it kindly. He didn’t know if he was that unselfish.

  While he struggled with his trepidation and sensibilities, he watched Zelda’s eyelids gradually close, her breathing soften as she drifted off to sleep. Uncertainties and doubts aside, he understood how very lucky he was to have met the magnificent Miss MacKenzie, to love and be loved. To have a ready-made family—and a baby on the way.

  His lips curled faintly in a smile.

  All in a brief few weeks.

  After she was sleeping soundly, he carefully slid her head from his shoulder and eased away. Tucking the quilt around her to keep her warm, he quietly left the bed and found his robe and the satchel of business documents he’d carried up to Scotland. The mines didn’t stop working because he was in love, nor parliament close its doors. Also, Fitzwilliam had sent a lengthy telegram to Inverness, cryptically worded, that required concentration to decipher. It looked like one of the magistrates at least was amenable, Fitzwilliam was still dealing with the second, and Violetta had signed some initial papers that were needed. Good. He’d have to ask about Freddy’s divorce in his correspondence. The men he’d brought with him were expecting to set out for Inverness at first light with his messages.

  It was close to three when Zelda woke up and saw Alec at her desk, writing with the lamp down low. “Come to bed,” she drowsily murmured.

  “Soon.” He added another sheet of quick, clear handwriting to the stack before him.

  She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Business?”

  “Yes, it never goes away.”

  “How will you get your telegrams?”

  “My men will bring them.” Not knowing how lengthy his visit might be—even a week was too long for his business to go unattended—he’d rented four houses yesterday on his way up to accommodate the relays of men he’d require. Without a telephone or telegraph, he’d need a large complement of riders. Now with the baby, the leases would have to be extended. And James and Jenkins, who’d been left at the last house, could be summoned.

  “For how long?”

  “As long as you wish to stay.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  He turned in his chair and smiled. “Of course. I love you and you’re having my baby.”

  “I’m going to feel guilty.”

  “Why should you? I’m perfectly content.” There were lies that mattered and others that didn’t, and this one mattered so much he willingly offered it.

  “You don’t have to do this for me.”

  “I want to.” The world of affairs would have to do without his full attention in the coming months.

  “Are you doing this because you don’t want me to ride?”

  He hesitated before he said, “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

  “My mother rode through all her pregnancies, Da says.”

  But she’s dead.

  When he didn’t answer, Zelda said, “Mama died from a putrid throat and a fever. Duncan was five. It had nothing to do with a pregnancy.”

  “I understand.” Alec sighed. “Still, I’m not sure I want to take the risk. You don’t know what you mean to me. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

  “We could ride very slowly, go by short stages. You really can’t conduct your business from here. Not for any length of time.” She’d seen his office at Munro Park, the number of employees, the bustling activity.

  He didn’t move or speak. He didn’t want to argue.

  “It would be better to go now, rather than later.”

  His head lifted slightly.

  “A trip to Inverness would be more dangerous when I’m farther along.”

  “We could stay here until the birth.”

  “I want better care than I can get out here in the wilderness.”

  “Better?” Sudden alarm colored his voice. “Is something wrong with the doctors and midwives here?”

  “Good God, Alec, all the best doctors are in”—she almost said Edinburgh which was true—“London,” she finished because there were good doctors there as well and Alec would be where he was needed. At Munro Park.

  “
Are you sure?” He restlessly ran his fingers through his hair. “Christ, I don’t know anything about this.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll be sure for both of us. We could leave tomorrow. The sooner the better.”

  “Jesus, Zelda, when you say things like the sooner the better, it scares the hell out of me. Do I have to worry about this pregnancy? Or how much do I have to worry about this pregnancy?”

  “No, you don’t have to worry. I’d just rather be closer to London.”

  “That’s all?” He scrutinized her.

  “Absolutely,” she said with alacrity.

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothing, truly. I’m extremely healthy.”

  He softly swore, then rose from his chair and walked toward the bed, the crimson silk of his robe catching the light from the fire, his dark beauty limned by flickering flame, his large, powerful body a masterpiece of nature. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached for her hand and absently stroked it, his eyes resting on her face. He let out a breath. “You know I can deal with anything but this. I’m a complete novice and you’re too bloody important to me.”

  “Then let me decide. We can talk to my sister. She’s five months pregnant. She’s been dealing with this longer than we.”

  He considered her with guarded interest. “Is your sister nearby?”

  “Over the hill.”

  “We’ll go in the morning. I’ll carry you.”

  “Stop, Alec,” she quietly said. “You’ll drive me mad. I’m not the first woman to have a baby.”

  “You’re the first woman I care about who’s having a baby. There’s a difference.”

  “And you always bend the world to your will,” she testily said, trying to snatch her hand away.

  He smiled at the small heat in her tone, his grip unrelenting. “Usually.”

  “But not always, damn it. And not now. Will you let go?”

  He did because it suited him. As for the rest, he hadn’t decided yet.

  “I’ll walk to Francesca’s myself. You can hold my hand if you wish.”

  He was learning patience. He smiled his most conciliatory smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s better. And now that I’m awake, you can make love to me. I’m very amorous now, as you know. And after we talk to Francesca tomorrow, you can have the horses readied. We’re going back.”

  “Just like that?” His voice was mild. Or pleasant-offensive. He knew how to do that, too.

  Perhaps she picked up on the small belligerence. “Yes, just like that,” she said, with faint irritation. “Unless you care to be celibate for the next eight months.”

  “Don’t.”

  She made the fatal mistake of looking arch. “Don’t what?”

  “Play those kind of games.”

  His voice was so brutally cold she flinched.

  “I’m sorry. Now I’ve frightened you.” But his politesse was as hollow and remote as his gaze.

  “I was only teasing,” Zelda whispered.

  As if coming awake at the sound of her voice, he looked at her and said without tone or emphasis, “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “I said I was only teasing,” she repeated, looking alarmed. “I didn’t mean it in the least. You know that. I adore making love to you. I adore everything about you.”

  He softly exhaled and forcibly suppressed the old ruinous memories. Stifled the mindless anger prompted by Zelda’s insolent threat. Locked away the dangerous resentments where they couldn’t frighten her. And returned to the matters at hand, to a centuries-old room in a Highland castle, to the woman he loved. “Forgive me again. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He ran his hand through his hair and swept it back from his forehead. “I’ve had four wearying years of game playing. I overreacted and I apologize. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “You’re forgiven, darling. But I’m not like her,” she quietly said.

  “God no. Not even remotely.” Intent on changing the subject, once again in command of his senses, his smile was boyishly sweet, although his blue gaze was perceptibly worldly and sexual. “Now, I believe you said you were in an amorous mood. I can help you with that. As soon as I stoke up the fires so you won’t get cold,” he said, coming to his feet and untying his robe. “Then I’ll see about doing my husbandly duty by you.”

  “I like the word husband,” she purred.

  “Good. Because I’m here to stay.” Letting his robe slip to the floor, he turned and moved toward the fireplace first.

  “Ummm . . . my own personal stud,” Zelda murmured, her gaze on his strong, sleek body, the beautifully trained muscles, and inherent grace.

  He glanced back. “Count on it.”

  “For how long?”

  He turned at those familiar, cajoling little words that called on him to please her, and looked at her with his sleepy, bedroom eyes, and smiled his unreasonably beautiful smile that had charmed countless women in the past but was now for her alone. “As long as you can stand it,” he whimsically answered, offering himself to her without conceit, offering all his natural talents and acquired skills. Offering his love.

  And in the days and weeks and months ahead, beyond the endearing qualities of love and affection that bound them, beyond the sweet friendship Alec had never known with a woman, beyond their attachment to the children in their life, the substantive, immodest, physical bond between the Earl of Dalgliesh and his lady was as it was at the beginning that first hunt weekend in Yorkshire: fiercely passionate; wildly provocative; at times, tender, precious; and always, always blissfully gratifying.

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  Berkley Sensation Books by Susan Johnson

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  HOT SPOT

  FRENCH KISS

  WINE, TARTS, & SEX

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  GORGEOUS AS SIN

  SEXY AS HELL

  SWEET AS THE DEVIL

  SEDUCTIVE AS FLAME

  TWIN PEAKS

  (with Jasmine Haynes)