Druid's Daughter
Page 19
He nuzzled her neck. “If you’re through with me shall I go back on the floor?”
“You wretch.” She reached for her pillow to throw at him again, but he chuckled and held her hands.
“If you’re not going to evict me from your bed perhaps you’d like to talk a little and then possibly have a repeat performance? Just a thought. In case you’d like it. I only live to please.”
He sounded as hopeful as a child at Christmas and she laughed out loud. Then she sobered. “Can we really do it again?”
The glimmering moonlight revealed his face once more sparking with passion. His chiseled features were shining with the deep desire of his love. He leaned over and kissed her with his beautiful, demanding mouth. He didn’t seem at all ready to talk. He looked down at her, his grin that of a confident caveman about to pleasure his mate.
“I assure you we can. Tonight and every night of our marriage, my darling wife. Only this time we’ll go more slowly. Knowing what wonders are coming and anticipating them makes for even more wonder.”
He rolled her under him and his splendid body rose over her once again. She realized what he meant as he began his assured assault on her senses and she eagerly responded to every kiss and sensuous caress. Her passion mounted faster than she thought possible and she shivered with delicious expectation as she lifted her hips to meet him.
He covered her, his eyes locking on hers with the silent promise of lasting love. She knew in her soul his love was absolute and unconditional, surrounding her with even more magic than her Druid ancestors could conjure.
Her Druid soul exulted in the certainty they would be lovers in this time and in all their lives beyond.
Epilogue
Four years later:
Lance and Morgan were at their country manor engrossed in their plans to add another wing. Life was full and wonderful. Lance was about to run for the House of Commons from their district in Kent and it looked to be a sure thing. Lance could add Morgan’s popularity to his own, since his wife had won great devotion with her healing skills. In fact he doubted anyone would dare vote against Lady Lance’s husband! Naturally Morgan was delighted he’d be leaving police work behind and putting his impressive talents into bettering their country.
They stood in the doorway of their girls’ room, watching the three-year-old twins. They were such darling girls, beautiful miniatures of Morgan. Although they had Morgan’s green eyes, their curls were the brighter red of Viviane’s. Lance was balancing their year-old son, Devon, on one hip. Devon had inherited his father’s dark looks and evidently his size.
The girls were in front of their blackboard and drawing.
“Look, Vivie,” said Kate. “I can draw a tree really well.”
Morgan put her hands to her lips and gasped. Lance stared and paled. He clutched his son, stopped admiring his wife and concentrated on his daughters. The chalk glided, unaided, over the blackboard, drawing first a tree and then a house.
“Let me try,” said Viviane as a new piece of chalk appeared by itself and sketched a sun and birds in the sky. The artistry wasn’t exceptional, but the method was. Each of the twins squealed with admiration of their drawing. All the while they sat solidly on their hands.
“Oh my God,” exclaimed Lance. “My God!”
Morgan covered her face with her fingers and led him away from the nursery door as she struggled with her hilarity. Then she gave in and bent at the waist, clutching her stomach as she laughed. Lance cast her a wary look and then strode away with Devon.
“Pay no attention, Devon. You see why we men must stick together. Come to think of it, we’re slightly outnumbered here. I think I’d better take care of this problem, starting tonight. We’ll just have to even the score.”
Lance continued to talk to Devon, who solemnly patted his father’s face as if in agreement. As Lance stalked away from a still smiling Morgan, she agreed with an inner shiver of delight on her fullest cooperation. It would be a distinct pleasure to help Lance with his solution.
She owed it to him to be obliging. After all, as chief male he deserved another son or two to help him cope with his decidedly Druid daughters.
About the Author
Jean was born in Ohio but has lived most of her life in southern California. Her insatiable love of reading started at age seven, when her widowed mother accepted a teaching job. For many of her formative years Jean was housebound in the afternoons until her mother returned from work. She happily spent untold hours reading everything and anything. This joy of reading has influenced her whole life, and is still one of her chief pleasures. Writing is equally enjoyable, and now takes top place in her favorite activities.
Her journalism degree was used only infrequently until recently. Marriage, two children and two grandchildren took priority. After some twenty years of being a real estate broker and having her own firm, Jean returned to her always beloved writing. Through the years she and her husband have enjoyed collecting art and minerals. Her husband now is of great assistance as an enthusiastic editor and a valuable critic.
She’s a dedicated member of RWA and has won several awards in national contests. The Druid series are presently her main focus of literary interest, although she’s also written four other historical romances. Romance has proven most satisfying to write, since her hero and heroine always manage to struggle through to a happy ending. Sometimes a secondary character takes over though and demands his own book!
And then we literally have another story!
Jean welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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