by Anne Mather
Luke’s jaw tensed. ‘It’s what I should do,’ he said, but he didn’t sound as certain as he’d done before.
‘What you should do is make love to me,’ said Abby huskily. ‘Then tell me there’s no future for us together.’
* * *
Some time later, someone knocked at the bedroom door.
Luke, who had been sound asleep moments before, stirred reluctantly. Feeling the warmth of a bare thigh cradled against the bandage that encircled his leg, Luke turned his head to find Abby was stirring, too.
With her hair spread silkily across his pillow and her breasts crushed softly against his uninjured arm, she looked incredibly sexy and incredibly beautiful. And he was loath to speak and break the spell that had held them in its magical grip for the past—he glanced at his watch—almost an hour.
But Abby was awake, and her smile was so joyous that Luke couldn’t prevent the urge to say roughly, ‘God, I love you. How in hell am I going to let you go?’
‘You’re not,’ declared Abby confidently, gathering the sheets about her and leaning over to kiss his injured cheek.
Then her brows arched mischievously. ‘But now I’d better see who that is before they think I’ve kidnapped you.’
Luke shook his head. ‘Like that’s going to happen,’ he muttered and she gurgled with laughter.
‘It could,’ she assured him, reaching for her tunic and pulling it over her head. ‘In any case, I think it’s your housekeeper. She said she was going to bring some tea.’
‘Tea!’ Luke grimaced. ‘I’ll need something stronger than tea if I’m going to ask you to marry me.’
Abby, who had evidently decided not to bother with her leggings, had been heading for the door when he spoke. But now, she turned, her mouth parting in stunned disbelief.
‘You can’t say something like that and not expect me to respond,’ she whispered, staring at him, and Luke pushed himself up on his elbows and regarded her inquiringly.
‘Well?’ he countered. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
Another knock sounded at the door, and Abby hesitated, torn between the need to open it and the equally—if not more—urgent need to return to the bed.
‘Damn you, Luke,’ she said helplessly, and, ignoring the other summons, she returned to the bed.
‘Is that any way to answer a proposal?’ he mocked teasingly, and Abby took his face between her hands and bestowed a hungry kiss on his mouth.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But my answer’s the same, anyway. It’s yes, you wicked man.’
She trembled when he pulled her down onto the bed beside him and returned her kiss with interest. He covered her with his body, his tongue slipping possessively into her mouth so that she moaned with pleasure.
And whoever had been at the door evidently decided that tea wasn’t needed at the moment.
EPILOGUE
IT WAS LATE afternoon when Luke turned into the gates of the cottage that he and Abby had bought just under a year ago.
As the SUV negotiated the leaf-strewn curve of the drive and the wisteria-hung walls of the house came into view, Abby thought again how lucky they were having a place like this to escape to.
Initially, when Luke had suggested buying a cottage near his father’s home in Bath, Abby had had visions of a Cotswold cottage, with maybe a thatched roof or a shingled portico.
But she should have known better. This cottage more properly resembled a small country house, with half a dozen bedrooms and bathrooms and a live-in housekeeper, who looked after the place all year round.
Even so, Mrs Bainbridge, whose husband took care of the grounds of the property, was a tactful, sensitive soul, who gave them all the space they needed. Indeed, there were evenings when she retired to the annexe she shared with her husband, and left Abby in charge of the kitchen.
Which suited Abby’s lingering catering tendencies very well.
Now Luke brought the car to a halt on the gravelled forecourt and Abby cast a glance over her shoulder. Their eighteen-month-old son, Matthew Oliver Morelli, was drowsing in his booster seat, with Harley strapped in a seat beside him.
Matthew had been awake for most of the journey from London, chattering away in his own inimitable style. He’d only fallen asleep when the roads grew narrower and there were tall hedgerows on either side of the car blocking his view. Abby guessed Harley was glad of the reprieve. Matthew could be very noisy at times.
‘Do you think he’ll let us get the car unpacked before he decides he wants to join in?’ asked Luke drily, giving his wife a rueful grin.
‘Oh, I’m sure Harley will let you do that,’ she answered mischievously. ‘So long as Mrs Bainbridge has got something tasty for his supper.’
Luke grimaced, and, reaching over, turned his wife’s face towards him for an intimate kiss. ‘I want something tasty before my supper,’ he remarked, allowing his tongue to brush her lips as he withdrew. ‘Do you think you can accommodate me?’
Abby’s breathing quickened. Nothing had changed. Luke had only to touch her and she wanted to wind herself about him. After almost two years of marriage, she still melted every time he kissed her.
‘If your son settles down after his bath, I may be able to help you,’ she said coyly, tugging on a strand of the dark blonde hair that hung loosely about her shoulders. ‘But I’m making no promises.’
Luke shook his head, permitting himself another disturbing caress before thrusting open the car door. ‘You are a terrible tease, Mrs Morelli,’ he said thickly. ‘And here’s Mrs Bainbridge, right on cue.’
The housekeeper, an attractive older woman in her sixties, had opened the door and stood beaming on the threshold.
She always seemed pleased to see them, and their baby son had definitely captured both her and her husband’s hearts.
‘Did you have a good journey?’ asked Mrs Bainbridge as she hefted the bag containing the baby’s things from the boot.
Abby slid out to join her, opening the rear door and releasing Harley from his harness. ‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘The traffic wasn’t too horrendous. Now, behave yourself, Harls,’ she called warningly as the retriever bounded towards Mr Bainbridge, who was culling the box hedges that edged the stretch of lawn at the front of the house. She exchanged a smile with the groundsman. ‘How are you, Mr B? Still working hard, I see.’
‘Getting there, Mrs Morelli, getting there,’ he said, bending down to tug Harley’s ears, and his wife gave him a conservative look.
‘He’s just been in for a cup of tea and a hot scone,’ she remarked drily. ‘He’s not overworked, Mrs Morelli. Not now you’ve employed that boy, Sam, to help him out.’
Luke, who had taken a little longer to get out of the vehicle, now straightened his spine with some relief. Although it was over two years since the accident, he still suffered some stiffness in his right thigh, particularly if he’d been in one position for too long.
But he’d made miraculous progress, due in no small part to the fact that he was happier now than he’d ever been in his life. Oliver Morelli considered Abby the prime reason for his son’s recovery, and he’d become very fond of his daughter-in-law. Which was why, whenever they were staying at the cottage, he was a frequent visitor.
‘It’s been a lovely day today, and they say it’s going to be a fine weekend,’ remarked Mrs Bainbridge, glancing into the back of the car. ‘Would you like me to get the baby out of his chair?’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Luke at once, exchanging a speaking look with Abby. They both knew Mrs Bainbridge was always eager to get her hands on their young son.
‘It should be a good weekend,’ said Abby, gathering a couple of bags and following the older woman into the house. ‘It’s good to be here. It was raining in London.’
‘Awful place,’ exclaimed Mrs Bainbridge, leading the way along the carpeted hall to the stairs. ‘I’m always saying to Joe that you and Mr Morelli—and the little one, of course—should move down here permanently. Now that Mr Morelli does a lot of his work online, there’s no need for him to go into the office every day.’
Abby hid a smile. Luke didn’t go into the office every day, even when they were in London. Indeed, since their marriage, he’d delegated a lot of his work to his vice presidents. The various departments functioned satisfactorily for the most part, enabling him to spend more time with his wife and family.
They’d married as soon as Luke was capable of standing without support, which had been about three months after the accident. Initially, he’d had to attend hospital on a regular basis, for follow-up examinations and physiotherapy.
He’d decided not to have plastic surgery on his face, after Abby had said she rather liked his scar. She’d said it made him look like a pirate, and she’d always loved pirates when she was a girl.
They’d spent Christmas and New Year with Luke’s father, before returning to London so that Abby could have the baby at the hospital in Paddington, where she’d been looked after during her pregnancy.
Then a month after Matthew’s birth, she and Luke had taken three weeks away in lieu of a honeymoon.
Oliver Morelli had insisted they both needed a break, and he’d been responsible for contacting one of the foremost agencies in London and hiring a nanny to look after the baby.
Matthew and the nanny had stayed with Luke’s father while they were away, and since then the nanny had become a permanent fixture in the London house.
However, she didn’t usually accompany them to the cottage, as Mrs Bainbridge would have been most put out if she hadn’t been called upon to babysit, when necessary.
The ‘honeymoon’ had been magical. They’d spent most of the time in Hawaii, where Luke had been able to have a complete rest.
The weather had been wonderful, and they’d slept and made love, swum and made love, and made love just for the hell of it. It had actually been hard to leave paradise behind and return to earth.
It had been good to see their baby son again, and Felix, of course.
Abby had come to depend on Felix while Luke was still having treatment. He’d taken over the care of Harley when she moved to London, and he’d been responsible for the retriever not missing his country walks. Abby hadn’t realised how many parks there were until Felix took control.
Now, after Mrs Bainbridge had deposited Matthew’s bag and departed, Abby looked round the bedroom she shared with Luke with real pleasure.
Probably because they had chosen this house together, Abby felt a real connection to the rooms and everything in them. When he’d been well enough to walk, she and Luke had spent days touring auction rooms and antique shops, looking for the right kind of furniture. They’d wanted period pieces to fit their new home.
In consequence, although it wasn’t as elegant as the Eaton Close house, the cottage was filled with tables and cabinets that in turn were filled with all the souvenirs they’d picked up on their travels.
The development in Ashford-St-James, which had initially brought them back together, was going ahead as planned. The small shops and Abby’s café were still operating. She had been lucky enough to find someone to run the café for her, and, as the young woman was Lori’s sister, there’d been no friction between them.
The supermarket being erected behind was almost finished. When it was, the row of shops would then be demolished, before being resurrected when the new mall was complete.
The whole development had been designed to cause the least amount of upset. Even Greg Hughes had had to admit that Luke was a pretty decent guy.
Decent wasn’t the word for him, thought Abby dreamily. He was the man she had always wanted to marry, the only man that she had ever loved.
Speaking of which, she smiled as Luke came into the bedroom carrying their son. Matthew was awake and chattering away to his father. She and Luke could only understand a word or two as yet, but Matthew was quickly learning how to get his own way.
‘I need a shower,’ said Luke, setting Matthew down so that he could toddle across the floor to his mother. His lips twitched. ‘Want to join me?’
‘I might,’ said Abby consideringly. ‘But your son needs his bath and his supper first.’
‘Can’t Mrs B do that?’ asked Luke persuasively, coming to drop a lazy kiss on her cheek. ‘You know how she loves to be put in charge.’
Abby smiled. ‘She’s not the only one,’ she remarked drily, stopping the little boy when he tried to pull away. ‘You’ll just have to go and talk to Joe until I’m finished.’
Luke gave a resigned sigh. ‘I sometimes think we should bring Mrs Darnley down here with us,’ he said, naming the nanny who worked for them in London, and Abby gave him a reproving look.
‘Wasn’t it your idea that coming here meant we three could be alone together?’ she reminded him, picking up Matthew and loving the way he nestled his head into the curve of her neck. Then, carrying him through to the adjoining nursery, she added, ‘Of course, if you’ve decided you’d like her to join us for all her meals, because there is no separate apartment for her here, then I can get on the phone right—’
But what she was going to say was stifled by her husband, wrapping his arm about both of them and burying his face in her shoulder.
‘You dare,’ he muttered threateningly, and Matthew lifted a pink-knuckled hand to push him away.
‘No, Daddy,’ he said, two words that were part of his limited vocabulary, and Abby giggled uncontrollably.
‘There,’ she said. ‘You have your answer. Now, go and annoy someone else until Matthew has had his bath.’
* * *
The shower was running when Abby opened the bathroom door. Matthew was now sound asleep in his cot in the nursery, and, after shedding all but her bra and panties, Abby tiptoed to the shower door and peeped inside.
Luke saw her at once. ‘Come in,’ he said huskily. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘I’ll just finish undressing,’ she began, but Luke put out his hand and pulled her into the steamy cubicle with him.
‘Let me,’ he told her thickly. Pulling her back against him, he loosened the front fastening of her bra. The bra slipped to the floor and he let his hands slide down over her breasts until they reached the waistband of her lacy briefs. ‘Mmm, you’re ready for me,’ he said, cupping the place between her legs. ‘Your panties are wet.’
‘I think that’s the shower,’ Abby protested breathlessly, but Luke shook his head.
His finger probed beneath the lace and found her throbbing core. ‘The water from the shower can’t reach where I’m reaching,’ he said, allowing two fingers to slide inside her.
‘You’re hot and wet. And don’t I love it?’
He continued to press her back against him for a moment, but when his own body started to protest, he quickly disposed of her panties.
‘God, I want you,’ he muttered, swinging her round to face him, before easing her back against the glass wall. He was fully aroused, she saw, allowing her hands to drift down over his chest to his stomach. Then, even lower, until he gave a muffled groan.
‘Wait,’ he groaned and reached for the shower gel. As he was pouring some into his palm, Abby filched a little and eased her hand down between his legs.
‘Abby,’ he said hoarsely as she smoothed some over his bulging manhood. ‘Do you know what you’re doing to me? Have a bit of compassion.’
Abby only gurgled with laughter and, despite the lingering weakness in his thigh, Luke didn’t hesitate any longer. He lifted her against the glass wall and thrust into her, embedding himself deeply in her velvety sheath.
Abby wrapped her legs around his hips as he filled her completely. She was already aroused and she felt her body tighten and expand as he pressed even deeper into her core.
She was almost sorry when she felt her body beginning to shudder and felt his answering response in his tightening grasp.
She’d wanted to prolong the excitement, but, with one final penetration, he had them both giving in to a shattering release.
Even when Luke lowered her feet to the floor of the cubicle, Abby was still quivering. But Luke wasn’t finished, and he soaped his hands and massaged her breasts and the cleft between her buttocks until she was trembling with expectancy again.
This time, after rinsing off the soap, Luke picked her up and carried her into their bedroom. Uncaring that their bodies were still wet, he made love to her again, with all the power and urgency of their first encounter.
Afterwards, as Abby lay drowsing, her body pleasantly exhausted from Luke’s demands, he said softly, ‘I love you, Mrs Morelli. I want you to know my love for you grows stronger every day we’re together.’
Abby reached up and wound her arms around his neck. She bestowed a warm kiss to the corner of his mouth. ‘I love you, too, Mr Morelli,’ she murmured. She drew back to look into his eyes. ‘I suspect I’ve loved you since that evening I met you in the wine bar.’
‘Then it’s just as well I found you when I did,’ he responded, burying his face in the hollow between her breasts. ‘I’d hate to think you might have married someone else.’