Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3)

by Constance O'Banyon

  She searched his face. "Michael, you haven't told me how you feel about me."

  "Don't you know? How could you not? I believe the moment I first lost my heart to you was when you thought I'd just doused you with a bucket of water. There you were, dripping wet, your eyes flashing with anger." He took her hand. "Come with me, so we can be alone. We have much to talk about."

  At that moment, Raile and Kassidy entered the end of the hallway, unobserved by Michael and Mallory. When Raile would have called out to his son, Kassidy took his arm and led him away.

  "I wanted to talk to my son," he protested.

  "Not now, dearest. They need to be alone so Mallory can tell him about the baby."

  Raile nodded. "You're right, of course. Did you see the way he was looking at her?"

  Kassidy nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "Young love, and first discovery, is beautiful to behold."

  Raile took her hand and led her to the garden. It was a glorious day. The sun was shining so brightly that it was almost blinding, while birds were singing in the huge oak tree at the far end of the walk.

  "There's also something to be said for love that has aged and mellowed, and grown until I don't know where I end and you begin."

  Kassidy moved into the circle of his arms. "Oh, yes, my dearest husband. What we have is love in its purest form. This is what I want for our son and Mallory."

  * * *

  Michael held the door open so Mallory could enter. "We won't be disturbed here." He removed his coat and tossed it across the bed. He looked at Mallory, thinking how lovely and fragile she looked. Her cheeks were flushed, and her flaming hair fell loosely about her lovely face.

  "Now, where was I?"

  "You were going to tell me how you felt about me," Mallory prodded.

  She watched him push a hand through his tousled hair and noticed that his hand was actually shaking. She smiled to herself, knowing how difficult this was for him. But she wasn't going to make it easy. There was no doubt in her mind now that he loved her, and her happiness was boundless.

  Relenting, she went to Michael and took his hand. "What, the courageous Akhdar 'em Akraba, who faced dozens of armed enemies and laughed in the face of Sheik Sidi Ahmed, and yet you are frightened of one unarmed woman?"

  "Scared? I'm petrified. I've never told a woman I loved her before."

  Mallory unhooked her gown at the neck. "I'm glad to hear that. A wife likes to believe she's the only woman her husband has loved."

  Their eyes met, and Michael laughed. "You have me just where you want me, don't you?"

  She smiled coquettishly. "Not yet." She nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. She wanted to tell him about the baby, but had decided it would be fun to allow him to discover it for himself.

  His eyes gleamed as she pushed his shirt off his shoulder and pressed her lips against his neck.

  He closed his eyes, trying not to think about what her soft body offered. When she ran her fingers through his hair, he grabbed her hand. "If you continue to entice me, I'll never finish what I'm trying to tell you."

  Mallory moved back and stepped out of her gown, kicking it out of the way. "Some things are better experienced than said, Michael."

  His body trembled with anticipation. "You little vixen, don't tempt me beyond my control."

  She unfastened the laces across the bodice of her petticoat, and slipped it off her shoulders, allowing it to fall at her feet.

  Michael came to her, picking her up in his arms, his hungry mouth devouring her soft lips.

  "Oh, you do so sorely tempt me, my lady." He placed her on the bed, his eyes raking her soft body.

  He looked puzzled for a moment. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered. He dropped down beside her, his hands roving at will over her soft hips.

  "I love you," he whispered against her ear. "I love you so much it's . . . like . . . pain."

  "I know," she said softly, turning to her back and taking his hand and placing it on her rounded stomach. She smiled to herself, wondering how long it would take him to discover that she was going to have his child.

  His lips were hot against her throat, his hand moved over her abdomen, his thoughts were clouded by the satin-soft skin. He paused, frowning. He moved back, his eyes moving from her full breasts to the roundness of her stomach.

  "Mallory?"

  "Is something wrong?"

  He hesitated to mention what he was thinking. He was new at being a husband, but he was wise enough to know it wouldn't be prudent to tell Mallory she was putting on weight. "No, it's just that . . . nothing."

  She could read confusion on his face and decided to help him. "I have a new wardrobe. Mine didn't fit anymore."

  "Uh, didn't fit?"

  Mallory laughed and reached up, pulling him down to her. "My wonderful, innocent husband. Don't you see the weight I've gained?"

  "I . . . didn't want to mention it."

  Again she laughed and took his hand, pressing it against her stomach. Nature was kind, because the baby chose that moment to kick.

  Michael pulled back his hand as if he'd been burned. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. With his eyes shining, he touched her breasts ever so lightly, then bent and touched his lips to her stomach.

  "My God," he said in a choked voice, "a baby. My own baby!"

  He tenderly took her into his arms. He was too filled with wonder to say more.

  "I have come to know, Michael, how much this family cherishes its children."

  He drew in a ragged breath. "Have you also noticed how we cherish our wives?"

  "Oh, yes, Michael, I have noticed that."

  He pulled her body against his, reveling in the swell of her stomach that pressed against him. "When next I'm in London, I want to seek out a certain Gypsy woman and reward her properly."

  Mallory looked puzzled. "Surely you don't believe in fortune-tellers?"

  "This one I do."

  He cupped her face and stared into her eyes for a long moment. "This is what I've been searching for without knowing it. You, my dearest love, are what has eluded me for so many years. I looked for you in every woman I met. Little did I know I would find you in the least likely place."

  Mallory threw her head back and allowed him access to her lips. He spoke her name with reverence, and she hugged him tightly against her. She had never dared hope this wonderful, complex man would love her.

  "Mallory, you will never leave me again?"

  "Never," she answered breathlessly.

  As he touched and stroked her, she felt every shadow of loneliness fall away. She would never be lonely again.

  * * *

  It was a cold December day, with the snow falling and the tree branches bending beneath the onslaught of the north wind. But inside Ravenworth Castle, warm fires had been lit in the hearths and there was a bustle of activity as if something out of the ordinary was happening.

  The servants worked quietly at their duties, while often casting anxious glances to the grand staircase.

  In the upstairs sitting room, Raile handed his son a glass of brandy and smiled because Michael was so pale.

  "Babies have been born since the beginning of time, Michael, and this one will be no different."

  "I've heard it's painful."

  "Of course it is."

  "Why did I put her though this?"

  Arrian entered the room, her face glowing. She linked her arm through her brother's. "What a wonderful Christmas this will be." Her eyes danced with merriment. "Father, if this baby doesn't come soon, we'll have to have the doctor tending Michael."

  Michael moved to the window, still clutching his glass of brandy. He stared out at the bleakness of the day, his face a mask of misery. He suddenly panicked, wanting to rush down the hall and hold Mallory in his arms. She was going to die—he just knew she was. He knew that death often came to the women in the village during childbirth.

  At that moment, a cry could be heard, and Michael stood petrified. Raile, knowing well
what his son was feeling, went to him, smiling.

  "It's a lusty cry. It must be a boy."

  Michael took a deep swallow of his brandy. "Do you think Mallory is all right?"

  "Of course. Didn't Dr. Worthington assure you many times that Mallory is built for bearing children?"

  "Yes, but—"

  Kassidy entered, carrying a tiny bundle in her arms, her eyes shimmering with happy tears. She passed her husband and her daughter, and went right to Michael.

  "I'm happy to tell you that Mallory is doing well, and she wants you to meet your son."

  Michael thought he would feel awkward with a baby, but when his mother placed his son in his arms, he could only stare at the tiny face. There was wonder in his eyes as he touched the soft hand, and he was awed by the perfectly formed fingers.

  "A son," he whispered, raising the child to his face. Then his voice rose in volume as he looked at his father. "A son! I have a son!"

  Kassidy and Arrian were hugging each other and crying with joy. Raile took the baby from Michael and beamed at the tiny bit of humanity as if it were the most precious possession. "Another DeWinter is born."

  Michael hurried out of the room, content to leave the baby in loving hands. He pushed open his bedroom door and went to Mallory.

  He was surprised to find her looking so well. Her red hair was tied back with a white ribbon, and she was propped against several pillows.

  "Do you think long-dead DeWinters are smiling today, Michael?"

  She held her hand out to him, and he clasped it tightly, then he softly kissed her cheek. "I'm sure of it—the line continues."

  Epilogue

  The reception the duke and duchess of Ravenworth gave to introduce their daughter-in-law to London society was held at Lady Mary Rindhold's spacious mansion. Hundreds of invitations had been hand delivered, and it was reputed that Queen Victoria, herself, would be making a brief appearance to honor Lady Mallory for distinguished service to the Crown.

  The members of the DeWinter family were all present, and stood near the door to receive their guests. Lady Mary was first, and Raile and Kassidy were beside her. Mallory and Michael were next, with Warrick and Arrian standing at the end of the receiving line.

  Michael looked at his wife with pride. Mallory looked beautiful in a shimmering blue silk gown trimmed with flossed silk fringe.

  Mallory greeted each guest with a warm smile. So far, she had met a prince, three princesses, several dukes and duchesses, and numerous marquises and earls and their ladies.

  Suddenly Kassidy took her arm, bringing her to the front of the line. "Mallory, your mother and father are here. I believe we should include them with the family. Do you have any objections?"

  Mallory was stunned. "No, of course not." She hadn't heard from her parents since leaving Egypt, but then she hadn't expected any contact with them.

  Her father awkwardly kissed her cheek, and her mother clasped her hand. "We had to come when we received the invitation from Her Grace," Lord Tyler explained.

  "Thank you for coming," Mallory said, wishing she could feel warmth toward her mother and father, and wishing she could think of anything else to say to them.

  Lord Tyler and Lady Julia stood at the end of the receiving line, knowing it was their fault that they would never be included in their daughter's life. They were aware that they had been invited only because the duchess of Ravenworth wanted to present a united family to the world for Mallory's sake. They watched Mallory as she was received by the elite of London society.

  Warrick spoke to Lord Tyler. "What do you think of the baby?"

  Lord Tyler looked puzzled. "What baby?"

  "Your grandson. I can tell you, he's the pride of this family."

  Lord Tyler looked at his wife. "A grandson. Imagine, one day he'll be the duke of Ravenworth."

  Mallory's eyes lit up when she saw Cousin Phoebe enter the room. She rushed forward and embraced the little woman, and after introducing her to Michael, she insisted her cousin stand between them in the receiving line.

  Phoebe was overwhelmed by the honor, and she beamed when Mallory introduced her to Raile and Kassidy. "I'd like you to meet my cousin, Phoebe. Actually, she's more like my mother, since she raised me."

  Lady Julia watched Phoebe Byrd laughing up at her daughter, and she felt pangs of jealousy. It should be she who stood where Phoebe did, but she had given up that right. What a mistake they had made. She looked into her husband's eyes and knew he felt the same.

  When there was a gap in the line, Phoebe leaned close to Mallory. "You cannot imagine what has happened to poor Sir Gerald Dunmore."

  Mallory hadn't thought of that odious man in a very long time. "Something unfortunate, I hope."

  "You might well think so. Poor man had an accident. He says he had a fall from a horse, but I heard he fell out of a woman's bedroom window when her husband came home unexpectedly and caught him."

  Mallory smiled. "How dreadful."

  "Indeed," Phoebe said, trying to look rueful, but her eyes danced with mirth. "Pathetic creature broke his back and is laid up for an indefinite time." She leaned in even closer and lowered her voice. "But don't be concerned for him, I understand he is receiving devoted care from his wife. It is said she is his constant companion."

  Mallory met her cousin's eyes. "May she make his every day as miserable as he's made others."

  "She's had years of neglect and mistreatment from that man, so I'm sure she shares your sentiments." She clasped Mallory's hand. "I can see that you are happy, child."

  "Yes, I am."

  "It shows. I am so glad, Mallory. Later, I want to see your son."

  "Cousin Phoebe, are you happy?"

  "I keep busy."

  "How would you like to come to Ravenworth Castle and look after my son? He has a nurse and a nanny, but I would feel better if you directed his care."

  Phoebe's eyes misted. She knew Mallory was only being kind, but she also knew she could be useful. If the child was anything like his mother, he'd need a firm hand to guide him. And he would probably have brothers and sisters who would need the same.

  "We'll talk about this later, but I won't let you say no," Mallory assured her. "At Ravenworth, you won't be treated like a poor relation. Everyone will give you the respect you deserve as the woman who raised me, and as my only true family."

  "I would like that above all things, Mallory. I've missed you. I would like to care for your son the way I cared for

  you."

  Michael took Mallory's elbow and turned her to face the door. "Here comes another surprise for you."

  Mallory smiled in delight as she saw Prince Khaldun and Princess Yasmin, who were making their way slowly down the receiving line. The prince looked handsome in his white-and-gold uniform. Yasmin was dressed in a bright yellow silk gown and headcovering, with only her eyes showing behind the veil.

  "I can't believe they are here!" Mallory exclaimed.

  "Try to appear surprised when they present you with Egyptian medals from the viceroy," Michael murmured.

  She clasped his hand tightly. "This is the happiest day of my life, Michael."

  "I promise," he told her, "if it is within my power, you will always be as happy as you are today."

  Author’s Note

  Dear friends, I want to make an urgent plea for you to wear your seat belts every time you get into a car. Even if you are only going to the corner grocery store, strap up— it only takes a moment of your time, and it could save your life. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, my daughter, Kimberly, and my three granddaughters were in a terrible six-car pile up. All of them were wearing their seat belts. My daughter sustained only minor injuries. Caitlyn and Courtney, the three- and four-year-olds, had only burns from the seat belts, and five-week-old Cameron didn't have a scratch on her. The police informed my daughter, that had they not been wearing seat belts, they would have all been killed. So please, buckle up—it could save your life.

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  Constance O'Banyon, Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3)