by CC MacKenzie
Pregnancy hormones were the pits.
Nico was serving her brother Alexander and his wife Rosie drinks and she felt his dark eyes on her, again.
Turning her head she met his watchful gaze. Swiping the tear from her face she gave him a cheeky I'm-perfectly-fine-so-stop-worrying grin. He simply shook his head as he strolled over to hand her a glass of sparkling apple juice.
He bent down to nuzzle the delicate skin under her ear and pressed a tender kiss on her mouth. "Not comfortable?"
She winced as the child in her belly attempted a stretch and an elbow or a knee lodged under her ribcage.
"He's going to be a gymnast."
"You look a little pale, headache?"
The back of her fingers stroked over his cheek, his jaw and he pressed his amazing mouth to the back of her hand. "I'm fine, just weary."
"I once had the best sex dream about Mathias Carter," Rosie said, Bambi eyes going misty at the memory. Dressed in cream leggings and a too big polo neck sweater of black wool with matching shortie Uggs on her feet, she was curled up with her elbow on the arm of the couch, her chin resting on her hand as she stared dreamily into the fire. Her heart shaped face was surrounded by a riot of curls of glossy black hair that fell to her shoulders. "His hands touched me everywhere and his tongue was outstanding. I orgasmed twice in my sleep. It was amazing."
Bronte couldn't help but grin as Nico's dark brows shot to his hairline. Then laughed when she caught her brother's stunned look of male outrage.
Alexander just stared at his wife of five short months. Blissfully unaware of having delivered a mighty blow to his ego Rosie was still gazing into the fire with a wistful little smile on her face.
"Oh. My. God," Alexander said.
The tone jerked Rosie out of her happy place.
Her smile now was one of a mother soothing a fractious child.
She reached over, patted his knee.
"Don't worry it was before you. I mean, before you and I did the dirty."
He looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head.
"Will you cut it out? We're guests in my sister's home."
She shot him a dark look. "It was an excellent dirty sex dream," she muttered under her breath.
Alexander pointed a finger. "One more word and you're going to be a very sorry girl, Rosemary Margaret Ludlow."
Nico just shook his dark head, lifted Bronte's feet and slid his very fine ass onto the stool before placing her feet on his jean covered thighs. Strong fingers massaged Bronte's narrow foot. "She is a handful," he said, referring to Rosie.
"Tell me about it," Alexander responded with feeling.
Unconcerned, Rosie held up her hands, wiggled her fingers.
"You should see what I can do with my hands," she said in a wicked tone that made Bronte laugh. "These hands have many skills. Baking, icing, stroking, smoothing oil up and down my man's..." She stopped at the don't-you-bloody-dare look in her man's emerald eyes. He was no fun. "Anyway, since the lovely Mathias is here incognito, what's he calling himself?"
"Dick Champion," Alexander said. "Because he rises every morning."
Bronte's peal of laughter made Rosie grin. "He's a bad boy."
"From what I saw with my own eyes this morning, I would call him Tiny Dick." Nico said as he stroked a laughing Bronte's calf, caught her eye. "Feeling okay?"
Bronte gave him big eyes. "We're fine."
Rosie knew Bronte's recent collapse and the resulting hospital dash to save their baby had scared the breath out of Nico. Hell, it had scared the whole family. Her best friend was still on partial bed-rest. Nico had carried her downstairs this evening as if she was made of the finest porcelain. She was pale, but the baby was growing normally. They had four weeks to go until the child would be delivered by elected C section. Everyone was ticking down the days.
"It's dinner with Dick tomorrow night," Alexander reminded them. Then he turned to his wife, gave her narrowed eyes. "And you'd better behave."
Rosie did a finger dancing shoulder shimmy. "Can I wear my red dress?"
"No."
"Aww, you're a spoilsport," she told her long-suffering husband. She turned big dark eyes onto Bronte and Nico. "Are you sure you're up to the excitement of meeting a bonafide sex-god? Did you see Matt's superior tight buns in "Love Me Or Die"? Man, just thinking about that naked butt gave me hot flashes for a week. Won't just laying eyes on the man make your blood pressure spike?"
"I've promised him a casual low-key family dinner," Nico said with a warning eye on Rosie that made her pout and his lips twitch. "So jeans and sweaters and no sex-god talk."
"He's bringing a woman," Bronte told her.
Feeling a lot more cheery, Rosie rubbed her hands together. "Ooooh, gossip. Who is she?"
"None of your business. Be nice. And you're not wearing those leopard print ankle breakers," Alexander added for good measure.
The possessive tone in his deep voice pressed a hot button.
Open mouthed Rosie glared at him. "You don't own me."
"Yes I do," he tossed back. "And you're not going to plaster a whole load of gunk on your face either."
Rosie leaned away to stare hard at her husband's glowering face. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
"I think it was the mention of the dream, Cara," Nico said in a feeble attempt to pour oil on troubled waters. "Alexander is a man. He has his pride."
"He's pathetic," Rosie said without taking her eyes from Alexander's.
He leaned into her and went nose to nose. "Hello, I'm sitting right here."
The pretend hurt in his eyes made her want to laugh, so to make up for teasing him she kissed him right on his gorgeous mouth.
She had a thing for that mouth.
No tongues.
And took a nice deep breath of unadulterated testosterone, his signature peppery cologne and something that was pure Alexander and stirred her every single time.
Actually in Rosie's opinion Mathias Carter couldn't hold a candle to her husband.
She loved the plains and valleys of Alexander's cheekbones. Loved that smooth masculine jaw with five o'clock shadow. Loved the deep green eyes framed by thick lashes, the arched brow, and hair the colour of toffee swept back from his face. As far as Rosie was concerned her husband was nothing short of perfection. Add in a mouth she'd never get tired of kissing and a big masculine body she could never get enough of and Alexander Ludlow was quite the package. After years of suffering through the hell of unrequited love she was still pinching herself that the package was all hers.
As ever the thrill raced from Rosie's toes to the roots of her hair.
Lord, she adored him.
She pulled back to find emerald eyes staring into hers filled with a glittering desire she knew so well.
"You're a much better kisser," she assured him.
His eyes narrowed.
"And you're the love of my life, wife."
Chapter Eight
Later on their way home Alexander slowly drove the Range Rover through the crunch of a hard frost.
He turned to her. "You mentioned the dream about Matt to cheer-up Bronte, didn't you?"
Rosie rested her head on his shoulder and he rubbed his chin over dark glossy curls. Inhaling the scent of a spring meadow, shampoo and his woman.
"Nico's clucking over her like a mother hen, but she's not herself. She's too pale and tired," Rosie said.
He kissed the top of her head before paying attention to his driving as the Rover swung into the sweeping driveway in front of their home, a sprawling barn conversion. They'd left low lights on throughout the house and grounds. With frost glistening on the sculpted lawns and twinkling on the red tiled roof, the place looked fabulous. Through vast windows the huge fir tree she'd set her heart on filled the entrance space beside a curved oak staircase that rose to the first floor.
He turned the car into the entrance of the attached triple garage, pressed a button and an automatic garage door rose. Coasting into the bu
ilding, the lights came on as the garage door closed behind them.
Rosie made to get out but worry for Bronte had him place his hand on her arm. "I know what you mean, she looked too fragile tonight."
Big brown eyes filled with anxiety stared into his. "Make sure our phones are juiced up and switched on."
He nodded and then gave her a sly little smile. "You know that thing you do with the oil and..."
Her eyes went wide. "Race you!" And she was out of the car, through the door and into the house.
Grinning Alexander made sure the garage was secure before he followed her at a more sedate pace. There was no rush. By the time he was finished with his wife tonight the only man featuring in her dreams would be him.
Strolling through the boot room to hang up his duck down jacket, Alexander entered their spacious kitchen and smelled Christmas, candle wax, and Rosie.
She'd cooked enough food for the festive season to feed a small army. Today she'd been experimenting with a cranberry cheesecake to take to The Dower House on Christmas day. On a granite topped island unit her chef's cap of white cotton lay abandoned. He picked it up, held it to his nose to inhale the scent of shampoo and the woman he loved more than life. They'd been married for five months. And Alexander could safely say they'd been the happiest months of his life. Rosie was a force of nature. Life with her could never be called boring. And how freaking amazing was that?
He passed a serving table with a white platter filled with fresh oranges spiked with cloves. Pausing to toss a couple of logs into the wood burner, he opened the door of the wine cooler grabbed two slim glasses and a bottle of bubbly. Turning off the lights he made his way slowly up an oak staircase carved by a master craftsman.
All was quiet.
Entering their bedroom suite he found a smaller log burner flickering merrily away. A fat clear vase held a lit church candle.
With candlelight dancing across her black curls Rosie was sitting on the edge of their huge bed with one bare foot tucked under her bottom.
She'd lost the leggings but still wore the sweater and was staring unseeing into space.
The little crease on her smooth forehead made him wonder what she was thinking. Living with her had taught him that contrary to her bubbly exterior there were times when Rosie Ludlow was a very deep thinker. And the way her mind worked never ceased to endlessly fascinate him. Watching her carefully, she was so still, Alexander placed the bottle and glasses on the dresser. He toed off his shoes, socks. Tugging the sweater over his head, he saw her recite the fingers on her right hand while her mouth silently counted down.
"What's up?" he asked, tired of wondering. One of the many things he adored about his wife was the way her fabulous eyes revealed every emotion. Now those big brown eyes went dark. When they filled with unshed tears alarm tickled his gut.
"Hey." He sat on the edge of the bed, drew her onto his knees.
But she pulled free to stand right in front of him.
Her hands rose to fist in her hair and she pulled hard before her hands went to her mouth and her fingertips pressed her lips.
She took a deep breath.
"Right. I need you to just sit there for a minute until I do something."
Racking his brain and coming up empty, Alexander wondered what he'd done to upset her but nothing dinged.
"Okay," he said.
Then she moved into him, cupped his face between her hands to gaze deep into his eyes. She squeezed so his mouth was pouting and she gave him a kiss so gentle and so tender his heart gave a little shiver. "I love you so much. Promise me you'll just sit there and wait for me?"
Baffled, but willing to play along, he nodded. "Can I open the wine?"
Now her head turned to study the bottle, the glasses, and her smooth brow creased again as white teeth worried her top lip. "Sure."
Disappearing into their bathroom she closed the door and locked it. He frowned. They never locked the bathroom door. The sound of the tap running made him marvel at what she was up to this time.
Deciding he might as well make himself useful Alexander tore the foil off the champagne wondering if his planned night of wild sex was about to take a nose dive.
The cork came out with a happy pop.
He poured two glasses.
Stripping down to his boxers he considered wearing a T-shirt. Their bedroom was warm so he decided against it, one less thing to take off. So he sat on top of the duvet with his back against the headboard and settled down to wait.
More noise from the bathroom, the toilet flushed and more tap running.
Then nothing.
Sipping his wine Alexander decided to just chill and see what she had planned for him this evening. He hoped it was something kinky and naughty. Rosie loved being naughty. His love muscle was locked and loaded.
The sound of the lock being turned and the door opening had him turn his head to give her big eyes.
Heart thundering in her chest, in her ears, Rosie stepped into her bedroom with a little stick clutched in her hand.
Alexander's brows rose.
And she read a slight bewilderment in those green eyes.
Who could blame him.
There they were all ready for a night of hot and steamy when she'd realised something key was missing or late. She was never late. Her body was a well oiled machine. They'd done absolutely nothing to prevent pregnancy so why was she in a state of shock?
In her mind she'd dimly thought about giving it a year and if nothing happened then she'd go and see her doctor.
With her eyes dead on his, she climbed onto their bed and knelt at his side.
She held out the little stick wrapped in toilet paper.
His eyes dropped to the item in her hand and back to her face.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Clueless.
How could a man reach the age of thirty-four and never seen a pregnancy test? Rosie wondered.
Then she realised that actually this was a very good thing.
"Pregnancy test," she whispered.
He went utterly still before placing his wine glass very carefully on the bedside table.
She saw him take a deep breath.
"What does it say," he asked squinting at the little window with the happy face.
"It says congratulations," she said and sat back on her heels and burst into tears.
Alexander didn't know what to do.
Never in life had he felt so happy and so scared to death at exactly the same time.
Except when Rosie had left him. And for a whole week he'd lived through every single circle of hell.
Now his eyes took in the crumpled face, the tears, the big heaving sobs.
Were those happy tears or unhappy tears?
They'd talked about children, of course they had. But it had been vague, something to consider sometime in the dim and distant future. They were both busy with their careers and happy to play adoring aunt and uncle to Sophia and Luca. And Rosie hadn't mentioned having a baby right at this very minute, had she?
The sobs were racking her body and fucking killing him.
Alexander did the manly thing and held her tight as she turned into his body and broke her heart. Christ, what was he going to do? He rocked her back and forth all the while making shushing noises.
Eventually, she calmed.
He cupped her chin, tipping back her head to gaze into those drenched dark eyes.
And what he saw was shock and fear.
"What's with the tears?"
Her eyes were absolutely serious as she gave a miserable little sniff. "I'll be a terrible mother."
Stunned, he simply stared at her before his mouth twitched.
God, was there ever a woman like her?
Shaking his head he said, "Nope. You'll be an amazing mother."
Big brown eyes stared deep into his.
"How can you say that?"
He kissed her and she kissed him back and he tasted the fear, the shock and awe. And underneath he tasted the thril
l of it all and knew right then that everything was going to be just fine.
His brow rested on hers.
"Because you are incredible with Sophia and Luca and with Daisy Boo. Babies and dogs adore you."
Now those dark eyes searched his.
"Do you think it's too soon?" she whispered.
He shook his head.
"Nope. Can I just say that you've made me even happier. And I didn't think that was even possible until now. I love you. You make my life complete. If I have a regret it is that my parents didn't live to see the life and family we're going to build together."
Now her eyes filled again, Rosie had loved his parents and the feeling had been mutual.
His own eyes stung and her arms wound around him.
"I know there are times Bronte finds it hard." Rosie said and hugged him harder. "She misses them so much."
They cuddled and then she went stiff in his arms, pushed off him and sat.
Her eyes went huge. "Oh. My. God."
"What?"
"My mother."
Alexander couldn't help but laugh.
Rosie's mother was going to go absolutely crazy with joy. Hadn't she already been dropping hints about them, "Getting on with it".
He slipped a wine glass into her hand, picked up his own and clinked their glasses.
"To us."
She took a tiny sip and placed it on her bedside table. "I can't have more of that. It's not good for the baby."
Then her eyes filled again before she gave a whoop and threw herself on him to straddle his lean hips.
"Alexander Simon Ludlow, you're gonna be a daddy! Who's a clever boy?"
Alexander managed not to wince as she bounced on his love muscle.
He slid his glass onto the table before his mouth found hers.