Promise Me Forever

by Kimberly Nee

  He didn't hesitate, following the maid down the stairs and out to the waiting carriage, his father right on his heels. The ride back to the house on Berkeley Square seemed endless, and the coach had not even come to a complete stop when he flung open the door to leap from it. He took the front steps two at a time, slamming into the foyer and scaring Hodges half to death.

  "Where is Heather?” he thundered, completely oblivious to his brother standing in the parlor.

  "Upstairs, sir, but the doctor—"

  He didn't wait for him to finish, taking the steps three at a time. He burst into the bedroom to find Heather lying in bed, surrounded by his mother, Andie, and the gray-haired doctor.

  He rushed to her side, taking her hand in his. “Heather?"

  "Go away,” she demanded, breathing heavily and wincing as another pain swept through her.

  Samantha walked around the bed to take his arm. “It's best if you wait downstairs, Drew."

  "The hell I'll wait downstairs,” he shot back, his eyes never leaving his wife.

  "Drew—I will—be fine!” Heather gritted out. “Now, go!"

  He bent over her to press his lips to her damp forehead. “Heather—"

  She screamed then, her fingernails biting into his hand as her fingers involuntarily clamped around him. A cold sweat broke out over his entire body and the room swam before his eyes. It was a thousand times worse than when he'd been wounded by Henry.

  She relaxed a moment later and he took advantage to pull his hand free. He leaned over long enough to brush a kiss over her forehead and to whisper, “I love you."

  She managed a tired smile. “I know. I love you, too, Drew. Now please, go."

  He did not resist as his mother eased an arm about his waist and guided him to the door. Heather cried out again, and Samantha gave him a not-so-gentle shove out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  Garrett emerged from the shadows of the hallway, a glass of whiskey in his hand which he pressed into Drew's grasp. “Come down below. It'll be a long enough night without you having to listen to her screams, Drew."

  He nodded, feeling numb as he followed Garrett back down to the parlor. Warren was there, uncorking a full bottle of single-malt scotch. Drew dropped onto the damask sofa, lifted the glass to his lips, and drained it in one swallow.

  Without a word, Warren took the glass, filling it with scotch and passing it back to his son. “Tonight is one night where it's perfectly acceptable to get drunk,” he said softly.

  "I do not care if it is or not,” Drew muttered, taking another long swallow. “I do not want to see straight this evening."

  * * * *

  It was a long night in the Kennedy house. Every now and again, a piercing scream would rent the air and it took the combined efforts of both Garrett and Warren to restrain Drew as he attempted to mount the stairs each time. Even soused, Drew was a tough customer, as he towered over both his father and brother.

  Finally, he gave in to the liquor, passing out on the sofa, leaving Warren and Garrett to watch over him with worried expressions. Hodges passed through every so often, making certain the men ate and the liquor did not run out.

  Finally, as the sun broke through the grayness of dawn, Andie emerged from Heather's bedroom, looking exhausted.

  She gave them a tired smile as she asked, “Is he dead?” and gestured to Drew, who was sprawled on the sofa, on his back, snoring softly.

  "I don't think so,” Garrett replied grouchily. “Are you going to keep us in suspense?"

  Warren coughed softly. “I think it's only fitting Drew be the first to know what he has sired, don't you?"

  Garrett flushed at that. “Of course.” He nudged his wife impatiently. “Go on, then. Wake him."

  She gathered her skirts as she crouched down beside the sofa. “Drew? Drew, wake up. Your child has arrived."

  He stirred, forcing his eyes open as the words sunk into his fuzzed brain. “W—what?” he murmured thickly.

  She nodded. “Heather is fine. Resting now. You may go up and see her."

  He came fully awake, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair. “Do I dare ask?” he asked breathlessly.

  She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “You have a son, Drew. A beautiful, bawling son."

  He let out a whoop as he jumped up from the sofa, Andie in his arms, and swung her wildly about the room. “A boy! Damn, I knew it was going to be a boy!” He released her to throw his arms about his father and brother in an all-encompassing bear hug. “A son!” he shouted, laughing and crying at the same time. “Damn it all, I've got a son!"

  "Why don't you go up and take a peek at him?” Garrett laughed, slapping him heartily on the back.

  "You know, I just might do that!” He wiped his eyes as he stepped back. “A boy. Holy—and Heather—Heather is all right?"

  Andie nodded, shooing him towards the stairs. “She is exhausted, of course. But otherwise, she is fine. Now, go!"

  He passed his mother on the steps and she stopped to embrace him. “Congratulations, papa,” she whispered, ruffling his hair tenderly.

  "Papa...” Drew felt fresh tears sting his eyes. “Momma, I—"

  She waved him away. “Go to your wife, Drew. She needs you now. We can sit down and discuss this later."

  He did not need another push as he tore up the stairs and down the hall. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he burst into the bedroom, although he did so a mite more quietly this time.

  Heather was lying in bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows, cradling a small, blanketed bundle in her arms. Her hair had been brushed out, wound into a simple braid. She looked tired, but almost glowed as she smiled serenely up at him. “Come and welcome your son, Drew."

  His knees threatened to buckle beneath him as he walked over to sink down into the chair drawn to her bedside. She shifted the bundle slightly, and he caught his first look at his infant son. The boy was a bit redder than he'd imagined, with a shock of thick, black hair. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched, and his tiny fists were waving in the air.

  Drew was in love.

  "He is perfect,” he murmured, leaning over to cover her lips in a gentle kiss. “Thank you, love, for giving me a son."

  She nestled against him, as he eased an arm about her shoulders, moving to sit beside her. “Thank you for helping me."

  He gave her a gentle squeeze. “My part was the easy part. Yours was by far the more difficult job."

  The joy in her voice was almost visible. “We work well together, wouldn't you say?"

  "I'd have to agree with that.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Heather. God, I wish I could show you how much I love you."

  She smiled up at him. “There is no need, Drew. I already know.” She held out the baby. “Would you like to hold him, then?"

  He hesitated. The child was so small, so fragile, Drew was terrified he would crush him. Still, he'd waited his entire life for this moment. “Yes."

  "Put your arms like this,” she instructed. “Support his neck."

  As Drew took the warm bundle in his arms, he instinctively cradled his son close to his body. The boy stirred then, his eyes opening to show their deep slate blue color. “He is beautiful, Heather. An absolutely perfect baby boy."

  "That he is. And as such, he needs the perfect name, don't you think?” she asked softly, reaching down to stroke the baby's cheek. She chuckled as the infant automatically turned in her direction, his little mouth opening as if searching for food.

  "I agree. What would you like to name him?"

  She smiled up at him. “I was thinking, perhaps, Kiernan Spencer?"

  "Kiernan Spencer Kennedy,” he murmured, gazing down into those sleepy blue eyes.

  "What do you think?"

  He lifted his eyes to hers. “I think it's a perfect name. A perfect name for a perfect child."

  Kiernan began to whimper then, his tiny fists flailing as his red face grew even redder and the wh
impers became full-blown screams. Drew froze, an unexpected panic sweeping through him. It must've shown on his face, for Heather chuckled and reached for the infant. “I think he might be hungry."

  Drew felt a flush creep into his face as she parted her gown and brought Kiernan to her breast. It was the first time he'd ever seen a woman nurse her child and it unsettled him for a brief moment. The discomfort drained away though, a new admiration for his wife replacing it.

  He carefully shifted to sit beside her, still gazing down as Kiernan went to work. “He's a natural,” he murmured, reaching down to tenderly smooth a hand over the infant's head.

  Heather winced slightly, but then smiled. “Rather like his father, wouldn't you say?"

  He chuckled, leaning close to kiss the top of her head once more. “I don't suppose I can argue with that, love. But I can promise you that those days are far, far behind me."

  She sighed as she cradled their son close. Drew felt a serenity settle over them. It was something he hadn't felt in quite a while and as he gazed down at his wife and their son, he couldn't help but hope that feeling never left.

  Forty

  A peaceful calm settled over the town house in Berkeley Square. His relationship restored with his family, Drew could now concentrate on finding Henry Donaldson. The Kennedy clan remained in London for several weeks, with Samantha fussing over her daughter-in-law and grandson like a mother hen.

  Drew closed down Zeus. His heart hadn't exactly been in the venture, so it wasn't at all difficult—and resumed his position at Eagleton. This time though, he and Garrett would be equal partners, with Garrett overseeing the New Jersey office, while Drew would control the European side. For the time being, Drew and Heather planned to remain in London, so it made perfect sense.

  Four weeks after Kiernan's birth found Drew and Garrett in a smoky pub down near the harbor. Drew had gotten word that Henry had been seen skulking about the docks in search of another commission and that he frequented the Riverside Tavern on an almost nightly basis. Drew knew that, if he bided his time, he would eventually come across the skinny bosun's mate.

  Sure enough, Garrett suddenly nudged him. “And the worm has arrived."

  He looked up to see Henry sidling around the entrance to the pub, a cap pulled low over his forehead. He tensed, lowering his pint as he said, “Shall we?"

  Garrett grinned. “It's been a long time since we both pounced on someone."

  "If I remember correctly, the last pouncing took place at Emily Hadley's wedding. Only I was the pouncee."

  "Ah, but I was soused and I have since apologized for that. Besides, I do believe the sucker punch you caught me with back home made us even, wouldn't you agree?"

  Drew chuckled. “Fair enough."

  They rose from their chairs and made their way around the tables. Henry didn't notice their approach until it was too late for him to do anything. He froze as each brother took an arm, lifting him easily from his feet.

  "How about a little walk, Donaldson?” Drew growled through clenched teeth. “Some fresh air, perhaps? Smoky in here, isn't it?"

  Henry's face went ashen and he responded with an odd gurgling sound, offering no resistance as they escorted him into the alley behind the pub.

  Drew was none too gentle as he hurled Henry into the side of the building. “I ought to tear you to pieces,” he growled, pinning his forearm up against Henry's skinny neck.

  "I've no—idea—what—you are—talking about...” Henry rasped, his face going from white to red as he struggled to drag air into his lungs.

  Garrett stood back, arms folded over his chest. “My, my, what a selective memory we have. You know damn well what he is talking about. Miss Heather? You filled Melanie's head with stories, knowing full well those stories would not remain there, didn't you?"

  Henry flailed his arms helplessly, desperately trying to land a weak blow on Drew. It was no use, though, for Drew was just that far out of reach. “You—are—insane!"

  Drew's eyes narrowed as he leaned more weight against his arm. “Am I?” he snarled. “I think not, maggot."

  Henry squeaked then as Drew suddenly stepped back, lifting the pressure from his throat. He sagged back against the grimy stone building, gasping for breath. “What are you going to do to me?"

  A slow smile spread over Drew's face as he replied, “Your own mother won't recognize you when I am through with you."

  "All of this for a whore?” Henry sputtered, rubbing his throat. “She must have some magic between them legs."

  "That whore is my wife, you piece of garbage,” Drew replied in an icy voice. “And now, I am going to make certain you don't recognize yourself."

  * * * *

  Heather patted Kiernan's back gently, wincing as the baby gurgled and then spit up. Samantha grinned at her. “Perfect. You are a natural mother, my dear."

  Andie sighed, slipping her forefinger into the tiny fist. “He is so precious,” she murmured. “May I hold him?"

  "Certainly,” Heather replied, holding Kiernan out for her to take. “You are his aunt, after all."

  Andie gathered Kiernan in her arms and kissed his forehead. “Oh, you are so adorable,” she cooed, rubbing noses with him. “And, soon you will have another little cousin to play with."

  At that, Samantha and Heather gasped. “What?” Samantha asked, eyes wide and glittering.

  Andie looked up with a devilish grin. “It means Heather was not the only one expecting a little bundle of joy."

  Samantha engulfed her in a fierce hug. “Oh, Andie, that is wonderful!"

  Heather laughed as Samantha began crying. “And when is the blessed event to take place?"

  Andie shifted Kiernan to one shoulder. “October. But Garrett doesn't know yet, so let's keep this our little secret, shall we?"

  Samantha wiped her eyes. “Oh, he will be thrilled, Andie. Absolutely thrilled. Another grandchild—oh this is simply such wonderful news!” She threw her arms about Andie once more, this time eliciting a howl of protest from Kiernan.

  Andie patted his back gently, soothing him at once. “I suppose I ought to keep this up. Practice whilst I can."

  "You are welcome to get up every two hours with this little terror,” Heather replied as Andie passed the baby back to her. “On second thought, that will come soon enough. Enjoy sleeping whilst you can."

  Samantha looked surprised. “You could hire a wet nurse, Heather, so you might get some rest."

  "Oh no.” She shook her head as she nuzzled Kiernan. “Drew suggested it, but I want no one else tending our child."

  The front door opened then and the Kennedy brothers filled the doorway to the drawing room. Drew elbowed his brother, saying, “I'm surprised we could not hear the cackling from the street."

  "And where have you two been?” Samantha asked, affixing them with a knowing stare. “Your father has been going mad looking for you."

  "I had some business to take care of down at the harbor,” Drew replied easily, coming into the drawing room to lift Kiernan to his shoulder. “How is my boy?” he crooned to his son, lifting him high above his head. “How is my little man?"

  Heather noticed his clothes were a bit wrinkled, a bit mussed, and he smelled a wee bit odd, so she said, “What is going on? What sort of business did you have?"

  He leaned over to brush her lips with a kiss. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, love."

  She didn't believe him, but saw the dangerous glint in his eyes and so decided to let the matter drop. “Very well."

  He cleared his throat, glancing over at his brother. “I don't know about you, Garrett, but I could go for a bite. Shall we pop into the kitchen and see what's available?"

  He didn't wait for a response, but passed Kiernan back to Heather and left the room. Garrett shrugged at the questioning glances from his wife, mother, and sister-in-law, and said, “A man has to eat,” and then hurried after him.

  * * * *

  That night, when the house was quiet and Kiernan put t
o bed, Heather curled up into the warmth of her husband's body. “Time to confess, Drew."

  He draped an arm about her shoulders. “Confess to what, love?"

  "What you were doing at the harbor? And don't think, for a moment, you are getting out of answering me."

  He laughed softly, wrapping his arms about her and rolling over to pin her beneath him. “As I said, it's nothing you need concern yourself with."

  "Drew."

  He ignored the warning tone of her voice as he covered her lips with his. She slid her arms about his neck, her fingers brushing through the hair at his nape. She was content to let him think the matter was forgotten for a moment.

  When they parted, he whispered, “I simply had a score to settle with someone, that is all. I wanted to make certain no one ever so much as whispers another lie about you. It no longer matters where we met, or how we met, and I intend to make damn certain no one ever suggests otherwise."

  She smiled up at him, her eyes searching his. “I love you, Drew,” she whispered.

  "I love you, too, Heather.” He kissed her again. “And you do not ever have to worry about people whispering about you. The past no longer matters. All that matters is the future. Our future."

  Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears at his whispered sentiments. He was right. It did not matter where they had met, or what the circumstances were. She no longer regretted ever having set foot in Delilah's. In fact, she owed Madam Allison a huge debt of thanks. Had she not been indentured there, she would never have met Drew and, despite all she had gone through to reach this point, she would do it all again.

  She started to tell this to him, but one look into his beautiful cobalt eyes told her she needn't bother. He already knew.

  With that, she pulled him down for a lingering kiss. Sweeping her lips over his ear, she whispered, “Shall I say a few of your love phrases now, darling?"

  He growled softly at her breathless words and leaned close to capture her lips in a fierce kiss. When he pulled away, she gave him a sly smile and murmured, “I love what you do to me, Drew. More, please."

  His laughter echoed off the walls as he leaned in again, whispering, “It would be my pleasure, love."