by Margaret Way
“It looks wonderful on your beautiful hand.”
“It is wonderful!” She tried to halt the flow of tears, but they continued to stream from her eyes. Maybe her being pregnant had something to do with it? she thought. Pregnancy, fulfillment, happiness. A good strong man who loved her, the father of her child.
“All right!” Rolfe started stripping off his clothes very purposefully. “I know one way to stop those tears. I’m going to get naked, then I’m going to make hot, impassioned love to you and it’s going to go on for a long time.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” she said. “Impassioned love is your specialty!” She threw herself languorously onto the pillows, holding up her ring to the light. “Hurry, darling,” she said. “I’m calling a wedding officiant first thing in the morning.”
THEY WERE LYING quietly in the aftermath of truly beautiful sex, still marveling at the miracle of their love.
“How do you feel about babies?” she asked as though sounding him out on his views for their future. She was turned on her side, snuggling into him, her ring hand splayed across his chest. The Bruneian ruby, a splendid pure red, was the perfect symbol of their love.
He took a moment to answer, continuing to wind a raven lock of her hair around his hand. Then very seriously, “I love babies,” he said.