by Sandra Field
“That morning in the attic.” His smile faded. “Part of the reason I didn’t touch you on our honeymoon was to prove—to myself as much as to you—that I was in control. But underneath, I was running scared. Scared I’d find out how much you meant to me. So all weekend I treated you like a stick of furniture.”
“You’ve been given a second chance,” Celia said. “I’m cold, Jethro. Warm me…please?”
A second chance. His heart thudding against his ribs, Jethro took off her jacket and sweater, easing her rain-pants and slacks down her legs. Then he took a couple of pillows from the chesterfield and threw them on the rug. As she sank to the floor, the firelight danced over her face. “I love you, Celia,” he said huskily. “More than I can say.”
“Then show me,” she said, and opened her arms to him.
As he peeled off his shirt, he said, “I can’t ask you to marry me because we already are. But the words we said that day…to love and to cherish until death do us part…that’s my promise to you.”
Two tears spilled to her cheeks. “And mine to you.”
For a moment, wordlessly, he held her close. He held the world in his arms, he thought. Because she was his world.
They made love slowly and with infinite tenderness, although as always it ended in a tumult of release. As Jethro raised his head, gazing into his wife’s face, he said unsteadily, “You took me to a place I’ve never been before—because we love each other and that changes everything.”
“Sweetheart…” Celia said.
He followed the curve of her collarbone with his fingertip. “You asked me once not to call you that.”
“I’ve always wanted to keep it for the man I love, who loves me. That’s you, Jethro, don’t you see?”
He felt ten feet tall and incredibly humble both at the same time. With a lightness that didn’t quite work, he said, “You mean we can do without honey?”
“And don’t you ever call me baby.”
“Maybe we need a new contract,” Jethro teased.
“No way! In fact, let’s tear up that awful document Mr. Wilkins drew up. I hated it from the start.”
In sudden urgency, he said, “I know I’ve been close-mouthed about my childhood, my mother and father. But I can tell you anything, can’t I? About keeping Lindy away from my dad when he was drinking. About Dave encouraging me after Dad died, because he had faith in me and knew I could get the business back on its feet. About how lonely I was after my mother left even though I’m not sure she ever really loved Lindy and me….” He kissed the exquisite line of Celia’s cheekbone, where the flames cast a glow on her skin. “I can tell you anything. Although I can still hardly believe that you love me.”
She turned in his arms, cuddling to his chest. “You’re stuck with me, Jethro.”
He laughed. “We’re not stuck with making love on the carpet for the rest of our days, are we?”
“Nope. The bed will be fine next time.” Gently she nibbled at his lower lip. “This is our real honeymoon.”
Jethro stroked her bare breast with lingering pleasure. “Can’t get much more real than this.”
She gave a sigh of pure happiness. “We could stay a couple of days, couldn’t we? I could phone my dad so he wouldn’t worry.”
With no finesse whatsoever, Jethro said, “Would you like to have children?”
“Oh yes,” she said warmly, “your children.”
“Then you’d better ask your dad how he feels about grandchildren.”
“The wonderful thing is, it looks like he’ll be around when they’re born,” she whispered. “I’ve got you to thank for that, Jethro.”
“Me and Michael Stansey. How many children, Celia?”
“Two,” she said dreamily. “We can teach them how to fly and sail and climb mountains.”
“We can tell them we love them,” Jethro said roughly.
“You never had that, did you?” she said in quick distress.
He moved his bare shoulders restlessly. “No…but I’m learning fast. From you.”
“Our children will have two parents who love each other and them,” she said fiercely.
Celia would never abandon her children. Not like his mother, he thought with a catch in his throat. “Dave could be their godfather.”
“We’re kind of planning ahead here,” she said demurely.
He laughed. “Talking of planning ahead, how about that soup? All I had for breakfast was a coffee at the airport.”
She ran her tongue down his breastbone. “Minestrone and you. That’s a menu it’s hard to beat.”
With overt sensuality Jethro kissed the sweet slope of her breast. “You’re dessert,” he said. “A lot tastier than chocolate cream pie from the Seaview Grill.”
One thing led to another; it was quite some time before Jethro put the minestrone in the microwave.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0286-3
CONTRACT BRIDEGROOM
First North American Publication 2001.
Copyright © 2000 by Sandra Field.
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