by Diana Palmer
“Watching it gives me the sweetest pleasure,” he whispered, his eyes locked with hers. “There’s something profound about a tiny mouth suckling at a woman’s breast.”
She blushed, but she smiled, too, because it was profound. She sighed. “I’m tired.”
“I know you are. I wouldn’t have run out on you, but I knew I had these cattle coming in, and I had to get enough sleep to cope with the arrangements.”
“I forgive you.” She reached up and kissed him. “Mama Donavan’s rocking him right now. She was so delighted that we asked her to come and stay after he was born.”
“She loves Tucson, but she likes being around us,” he agreed. “I’m sorry Gene and Cherry and little Lisa couldn’t come back to see him. But he’s determined to stay in France until he gets through that international exhibit. He’s doing good work. I’m proud of him.”
“You can tell him that when he gets back. It will make him feel good,” she said gently.
“You make me feel good,” he said. “Just looking at you gives me goose bumps.”
“I hope it always will.” She moved away reluctantly. “Want me to fix you some breakfast?”
“Where’s Sheila?”
She led him to the living room door, and nodded toward the sofa. Sheila was sound asleep on it. Mary Whittman was sprawled in an armchair next to it, her mouth open, faintly snoring.
“My God,” Jason murmured. “How many people have we pressed into labor here?”
“Well, there’s Mama Donavan upstairs, and Sandy’s in the guest bedroom, Dessie’s next to her…”
“…anyone else?” he interrupted, amused.
“Mrs. Rogers phoned and offered to come if we needed her. And Jo at the café, and…”
“Never mind.” He shook his head, his dark eyes adoring her. “I hope Cade inherits your gift for attracting help. By the time he’s old enough to help me work the ranch, we’ll need extra hands.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” she continued, “Red Barton took a turn rocking, and so did Gabe.” She grinned. “I wish you could have seen them.”
He chuckled. “So do I. They never mentioned it when they came in to wake me up.” He touched her nose. “What are you going to cook for me?”
“How about cereal with milk?” she asked hopefully.
“Okay.”
“In that case, you can have scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits,” she offered, and hugged him.
After he’d eaten, Kate led him up the staircase to the nursery. She had decorated it in soft blues with teddy bears and lambs on the wallpaper and a white baby bed with a tiny blue quilt that Mary had made for little Cade.
The son and heir was curled up in his grandmother’s arms, being sung a lullaby. Kate and Jason paused in the doorway, staring at the tiny head with its cap of jet black hair, sleeping in his tiny jumper.
“He’ll sleep for a while,” Mrs. Donavan sighed, touching the tiny face with delicate fingers. “I can’t see him, you know, but I know what he looks like. Jason, he’s the image of you.”
Jason grinned like a man receiving an award, and Kate reached up and kissed his cheek. “What did I tell you, Daddy?” she teased softly.
He nuzzled her face. “I guess that means I can’t claim you had a mad affair with the milkman,” he murmured dryly.
“We don’t have a milkman, sweetheart,” she reminded him. “Anyway, he’s going to have brown eyes. I can tell.”
“Sassy, isn’t she?” Mama Donavan grinned.
“She always has been,” Jason sighed. “And I wouldn’t change a hair on her pretty head.” He kissed Kate and then leaned over to touch his lips to Mama Donavan’s wrinkled cheek. He looked down at his son. He brushed his lean fingers over the tiny head, his eyes blazing with pride and love. Kate caught her breath when she saw his expression.
She smiled at him, her own love reflected in her eyes. I’d do it all again, she thought suddenly. I’d go through it all again, every painful minute, for this.
And Jason, watching her, read her thoughts. He smiled back at her because he felt the same way. Every day his love for her grew, but now there were no barriers, no doubts. He wasn’t even jealous of her career because every night she slept in his arms, and he knew to his bones that he came first in her heart. He always would. He winked at her, and laughed at her soft, helpless blush.
Three months later, Cade Christopher Donavan was baptised at the Presbyterian church, with two grandmothers, four godmothers and three godfathers, and Kate had designed and made the baby a long, lacy baptismal gown and cap for the occasion.
Afterward, Mary and Mama Donavan sat with Cade while Kate and Jason drove out to the pasture where the new Indian bull lived.
“Red Barton was right,” Kate remarked. “He sure is ugly.”
“He saved us from bankruptcy,” he reminded her with a grin.
“Well, maybe he does have a glimmer of beauty. Right there under his left ear….”
He turned off the engine. “Come here.”
His arms reached for her, and he pulled her across him. “Alone at last,” he mused. “Remember the first time I kissed you?”
“On your porch,” she recalled. “You came on pretty strong, and I was scared. I almost cut and ran.”
“I did cut and run,” he said gently. “But I came to my sense finally, thank God.” He kissed her again. “Kate, are you happy?” he added, his dark eyes searching hers, softly.
“Yes.” It was only the one word, but in that word she put all her love and the memory of perfect nights of loving, long days of being together and learning about each other. In it she put her heart and soul, and all the love she felt for him. One word. But in it, she gave him the world. And he smiled.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3334-2
DIAMOND SPUR
This book first appeared under the Susan Kyle byline.
Copyright © 1988 by Susan Kyle.
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