by Maggie Cox
‘Ailsa … For God’s sake, have mercy.’
She called a halt to her provocative kissing to gaze up at him. ‘You hardly showed me any mercy when you drove me half wild just now.’
‘You’ll pay for this … I’ll drive you even wilder when you—’
The full-bodied groan Jake emitted made Ailsa smile even as she cupped him in her hand and, with a feminine satisfaction borne of intimately knowing her man, felt the power and strength of his manhood.
‘Is that a promise?’ she asked.
Feeling his hand snake round her wrist once more—this time hard enough to impel her body straight back up to his—She let Jake drop both hands to her softly rounded hips and, as her long hair spilled forward over her bared breasts, fill her yet again. And this time he showed not the slightest restraint at driving her just about as wild as a woman hungry for her man could get …
Christmas Eve, Tilda Larsen’s house …
Saskia was eagerly helping her mother lay the long polished dining table for dinner. Several of the Larsen family’s relatives and friends were expected to sit down with them that evening and the house looked more beautiful than Ailsa had ever seen it. Candles glowed on every window-sill, exquisite crystal vases and pretty ceramic bowls full of flowers sat on every available surface, and everything in sight was bright, gleaming and festive. The silver-grey skies that day had even obliged with another light smattering of snow—not enough to stall their visitors travelling by road, but adequate enough to make the scenery surrounding the lovely woodland house appear utterly magical.
The mouth-watering scent of roast duck that wafted out from the kitchen stimulated Ailsa’s tastebuds into realising just how hungry she was. Her body heated when she recalled that over the past few days she’d spent with Jake not a lot of cooking or eating had gone on. It was just as well he had given Magdalena a few extra days off, insisting to the concerned housekeeper that he and Ailsa would manage well enough by themselves. They would eat out as much as possible, he’d told her, so there wouldn’t be much need for cooking anyway.
He had been true to his word. They had visited some of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. But each time they had, more time had been spent simply gazing hungrily at each other across the table than eating the delicious food they’d ordered. And when they had finished dining they’d hurried home to make love …
The sense of wellbeing that had taken over Ailsa’s body had the frequent ability to make her sigh contentedly and smile to herself every time she remembered just why she was feeling so good. And now the sense of something wonderful about to happen was definitely in the air—and it wasn’t simply because it was the most magical season of the year. Every time she glanced over at Jake and caught his eye as he stoked the coals in the dining room fireplace, she saw that he felt it too. They both had surprises up their sleeves, but they wouldn’t be revealing them until later.
‘Do you think that Father Christmas will bring me a surprise, Mama? I mean something that I really didn’t expect?’
Her little girl’s entrancing blue eyes were studying Ailsa intently.
‘You mean like another poster of that young movie idol you’re so crazy about?’ Moving to stand behind his daughter, Jake dropped his hands onto the small slender shoulders, then affectionately kissed the top of her head.
Saskia’s cheeks turned crimson. ‘I’m not crazy about him, Papa—I just like the movies he’s in!’
‘Your father’s only teasing you, sweetheart.’ Finishing her folding of the last pristine napkin, Ailsa grinned at the man and child she loved more than life itself. ‘I’m sure you’re going to get lots of lovely surprises.’
‘Well, I really want to look my best for dinner, so I’m going up to my room to change. Grandma bought me the prettiest red dress ever and I want to wear it.’
‘Do you need any help, angel?’
‘It’s all right, Mama, I’m a big girl now. I don’t need any help. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.’ With a furtive little smile at both her parents, Saskia left Jake and Ailsa alone again.
Giving the festively laid table a final scan, to make sure that everything was as perfect as she could make it, Ailsa smoothed her hands down over the dark skirt that she had teamed with the delicate mulberry-coloured silk blouse she was wearing. Just as she briefly lifted the heavy fall of chestnut hair off the back of her neck Jake stepped up behind her and kissed her nape. Then his arms circled her waist. He smelled wonderful. He was wearing her favourite cologne and, coupled with the masculine warmth that enveloped her, it made her heart miss a beat.
‘You look ravishing,’ he told her, moving round to urge her against him.
‘You look pretty edible yourself,’ she teased, loving the way the classic maroon sweater and black jeans made him appear so effortlessly sexy and virile just by virtue of being on his hard, honed body.
‘Is that a fact?’ His electric-blue eyes helplessly turned dark, as they so often seemed to do whenever he was close to her these days. ‘Maybe I’ll get you to prove that to me later?’
‘Don’t keep saying such provocative things to me, or I won’t be in any fit state to help your mother in the kitchen.’
Jake flashed an incorrigible grin. ‘She’ll understand. Right now she’s over the moon because we’re back together. She’ll keep the news to herself, of course, until we tell Saskia—but did you hear her singing earlier? Surely you must realise now where I get my supreme vocal talent from?’
Her fingers already affectionately pushing back the rogue lock of shining gold hair that glanced against his brow, Ailsa studied him in earnest. ‘I love your voice—I really do. It’s just like … Well, it’s a combination of fine cognac heated over a flame and rich, dark velvet … at least when you’re speaking. But unfortunately it definitely loses its power to mesmerize when you’re singing!’
‘I didn’t realise you had such a cruel streak in you.’
‘Baby, I’ll never knowingly be cruel to you again … that’s a promise.’ Her laughter dying away as she examined the haunting male features before her, she tenderly touched her lips to Jake’s.
When she drew back he dropped his hands lightly to her hips, his expression serious. ‘I don’t expect you never to get mad or frustrated with me again—you know that?’ he said. ‘There’s bound to be days when old hurt or resentment might kick in, and days when grief about our son overwhelms you. But when that happens I want to know that you’ll talk to me about it and not just keep it to yourself. Is that a deal?’
‘It’s a deal—but you’ve got to agree to do the same.’
‘Absolutely—I promise. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Let’s go sit down for a few minutes before the visitors get here, hmm?’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to talk, Jake, but I’m worried about leaving Tilda for too long on her own in the kitchen without any help.’
‘Why? Don’t you know the greatest help that both of us can give her is for us to be happy again?’
‘Okay, then. But just for a few minutes. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later tonight, when we go to bed.’
‘Trust me,’ Jake replied with a knowing lift of an eyebrow, ‘talking is not exactly what I have planned when we go to bed tonight.’
Heat surging into her cheeks, Ailsa didn’t protest. Why would she when she was still thrilled to know that the man she loved found her so irresistible? Their passionate reunion really was a dream come true.
They moved across the elegant dining room to a sumptuous sofa laden with several luxurious silk cushions. ‘I’ve been thinking about where we’re going to live when we remarry. I mean our main home,’ Jake said.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘I know you love the cottage, but I’ve been mulling over the idea of basing myself in London full-time again. The Copenhagen branch of the company is flourishing, and there are at least two people there who could easily oversee things by themselves for me. But the cottage
is too far a commute, and I don’t want us to be apart—not even for a day. Anyway, I was wondering how you would feel about moving to the Westminster penthouse for a while? It will only be until we can find something more suitable—something with a good-sized garden for Saskia to play in and nice views—a riverside place by the Thames, maybe? I’ve asked my business manager to start looking for me. What do you think?’
‘Yes, all right. That sounds fine.’
‘I know you’ve got your business established now, but you can always trade online. I could find you some premises near where we live in London, or when we find a suitable house with plenty of spare room you can work from home if you’d prefer that.’
‘I said yes, Jake … I agree.’
He stopped talking then, and Ailsa exhaled a long breath—as if she did so for the both of them.
‘Just yes? You mean you don’t have any reservations about making such a move?’ His smooth brow creased in puzzlement.
Lifting his hand, she thoughtfully examined the long fingers, with their blunt-cut nails and the still evident scarring that criss-crossed the otherwise unblemished flesh. Her heart squeezed. ‘Right now, I’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant I could be with you, Jake—and that’s the truth. As much as I love what I do, my craft business isn’t my top priority. My family is … you and Saskia. As long as the three of us can be together then everything else has to fall in with that. Like I said to you before … I don’t have doubts any more—just hopes’
‘If I drank wine I’d raise a glass to that.’ Her husband-to-be smiled.
‘What’s wrong with orange juice?’ Ailsa asked softly. It wasn’t until dinner was at an end that Jake—seated at the head of the long festively decorated table, with Ailsa on his right and his enchanting daughter in her poppy-red dress on his left—finally lifted his glass to make the toast he’d been aching to make all day.
Knowingly catching his eye, Saskia clanged her dessert spoon against her drinking glass to get the full attention of the assembled friends and family who had shared the delicious food that Tilda had prepared. Seated at the opposite end of the table from her beloved son, Tilda Larsen gave her granddaughter an approving wink as the child got confidently to her feet.
‘Everybody … my papa would like to say something.’
She sat down again with flaming cheeks and, leaning forward, Jake lifted her slender little hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he got to his feet, glancing down the table at the sea of faces now waiting expectantly for him to speak.
‘Christmas is traditionally a very special time for us all,’ he began. ‘And although six months ago I very sadly lost my father, and my mother her devoted husband, I am certain that Jacob senior would not begrudge me calling this day extra-special this year.’ During the charged silence that fell, one could have heard the proverbial pin drop. ‘It is extra-special because my darling Ailsa has agreed to marry me again,’ Jake finished.
‘You’ve given me my surprise! Oh, thank you—thank you! It’s the best present ever … better than anything Father Christmas could bring!’ Jumping to her feet, Saskia enthusiastically flung her arms round her father, then moved round to where her mother was sitting, rushing to do the same to her.
Everyone cheered and got to their feet, clapping hands and turning to the people either side of them to exclaim their surprise and delight.
Emotion almost overwhelming him, Jake reached for Ailsa as she somewhat shakily stood up too. Echoing the powerful sensations of joy and happiness that flooded his heart, her lovely eyes glistened with tears. Raising his glass, he made the toast he’d been longing to make. ‘To the love of my life—Ailsa. You’ve given me back my life and made me happier than I perhaps have a right to be. I hope you never have cause to regret coming back to me. I’ll work hard every day to make sure you always believe your decision was the right one.’
‘You don’t have to do anything but be the wonderful man you are, Jake. You’ve given me back my life too.’ His wife-to-be deliberately kept her voice low, for his ears only, and there, in front of his assembled family and friends, he kissed her openly and passionately on the mouth …
In the middle of her careful packing of the photographs she would take with her to Westminster, when she and Saskia moved in with Jake, Ailsa lifted one of the latest framed pictures that stood on the living room mantelpiece and sighed. It was a lovely portrait of herself and Jake, taken on their wedding day two weeks ago. The occasion itself had been a quiet affair in the county town’s local register office—nothing like the big wedding they’d had when they’d first got married, nearly ten years ago—but it had truly been the best day of her life. Tilda had flown over from Copenhagen to join them, and Jake’s loyal chauffeur Alain and a lovely young woman from the florists who had created Ailsa’s bouquet for her stood as witnesses. Saskia had been the most exquisite flower-girl. After the ceremony they had gone to a very charming country house hotel to have dinner.
Smiling, she touched her fingertips to the portrait. Then, carefully wrapping it, she laid it on the very top of the packing case she’d been filling. Straightening, she glanced down with quiet satisfaction at the familiar circle of ravishing diamonds on her finger. She was Mrs Larsen again. Even now she could still hardly believe it.
As long as the commute to London was, Jake had temporarily returned to the cottage with his wife and daughter, until they could all move to Westminster together. But they wouldn’t even be staying there for long, because his company manager had found them the most wonderful house by the river in Windsor.
Now, noticing the time, Ailsa went to the foot of the stairs and called out to Saskia, who was undertaking some packing of her own in her bedroom. ‘I’m just going to start making dinner, darling. Papa will be home soon.’
It sounded like the most normal statement in the world, but it still gave her a thrill to say it. In the kitchen she checked the ingredients for the meal she was making, put the kettle on for a cup of tea, then stood gazing out of the window at the darkening winter sky, her hand absently rubbing her belly. The snow had all but melted now, but the ice in the air still cut like a knife. She grimaced as the sensation of nausea in the pit of her stomach grew a little more intense. Without realising she’d intended to, she depressed the swtich on the kettle to turn it off. All she was aware of was that suddenly the thought of tea made her feel quite sick.
Moving across to the table, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Still rubbing her belly, she stilled suddenly, calculating in her mind. She’d been suffering from this disagreeable nausea for several days now. At first she’d thought she’d picked up some kind of tummy bug—or perhaps it was just a combination of nerves and excitement because so many changes in her life were happening so fast? Now it dawned on her that she’d missed her last period.
She shot up from the chair and started to pace the floor. ‘Oh, my God …’ she whispered under her breath. ‘This can’t be happening … it’s impossible. I know it’s impossible!’
But, despite her impassioned declaration, Ailsa found herself climbing the stairs to her bedroom. From the lowest dressing table drawer—safely put away beneath a colourful woollen shawl that she no longer wore—she withdrew a slim brown envelope stamped with the name of the hospital she’d been taken to after the accident. Dropping down onto the end of the bed, she took out the medical report that she’d only ever read once. The contents were too shattering for her ever to want to look at them again. But now, with her heart thumping heavily beneath her ribs, Ailsa made herself read the report extra carefully.
With shock and disbelief she saw one statement that screamed out at her above all the others: It is unlikely that Mrs Larsen will ever be able to become pregnant again and carry a child to full term. It was the word ‘unlikely’ that jumped out at her most of all. ‘Unlikely’ was not exactly definitive, was it? That meant that there was a possibility—in her own case a distinct possibility—that she might indeed have become pregnant and coul
d carry her baby to full term.
Why had she never noticed the word ‘unlikely’ in the report before? Why had she believed for all these years that she was some kind of hopeless case? When Jake had suggested they’d both been out of their minds after she’d lost Thomas in the accident it had been truer than they’d realised!
She ran across the hall into Saskia’s room. Her daughter was perched on the end of the bed, which was strewn with all manner of colourful clothing. The pink suitcase that lay open in front of her already had several items folded neatly inside it.
‘I’ve got to drive into town and I want you to come with me, sweetheart. There’s something I need to buy from the chemist’s.’
‘But won’t Papa be home soon?’
‘We can be there and back before he gets home. Come on, scamp … get your coat and boots on and we’ll go.’
‘Okay—but as long as I can keep packing when I get back.’
‘Of course you can. I’ll even come and help you.’
At the old-fashioned look her daughter gave her, Ailsa held up her hands. ‘Okay … I know you’re a big girl now—but sometimes even big grown-up girls need a little help. I know I do from time to time.’
An hour or so later Ailsa was in the bathroom, retouching her lipstick, when she heard Jake’s key in the door. She’d exchanged the serviceable jeans and sweatshirt she’d been working around the house in for smart black trousers and a cream blouse with broderie anglaise on the bodice and cuffs. She’d brushed her waist-length hair so many times that it positively crackled. Now she was seized with butterflies as she slowly descended the staircase, to find her handsome husband waiting for her with the most stunning bouquet of flowers in his hand. The look in his arresting diamond-chipped blue eyes commanded her attention far more avidly than the glorious bouquet did.
