White Lace and Promises

by Debbie Macomber

  Gallantly, she resisted the urge to smash the pillow over the top of his head, pull a blanket from the mattress, and storm into the living room to sleep. She didn’t know how any man could be so unbelievably dense.

  Maggie fell easily into a light, untroubled slumber. Although asleep, lying on her side, her back to him, she was ever conscious of the movements of the man who was sharing the bed. Apparently, Glenn was having more difficulty falling asleep, tossing to one side and then to another, seeking a comfortable position. Once his hand inadvertently fell onto her hip, and for a moment he went completely still. Content now, Maggie smiled inwardly and welcomed the calm. Sleeping with him was like being in a rowboat wrestling with a storm at sea.

  With unhurried ease the hand that rested against her bare hip climbed upward, stopping at her ribs. Shifting his position, Glenn scooted closer and gathered her into his embrace. As if he couldn’t help himself, his hand sought and found a firm breast. His touch was doing insane things to her equilibrium, and she was encompassed in a gentle, sweet warmth. Savoring the moment, Maggie bit into her bottom lip as he slowly, tantalizingly, caressed her breasts until she thought she’d moan audibly and give herself away.

  Glenn was in agony. He had thought that he would wait and follow all the plans he’d made for courting his wife. But each minute grew more torturous than the one just past. He couldn’t sleep; even breathing normally was impossible when she lay just within his grasp. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but once his hand lightly grazed her hip he couldn’t stop his mind from venturing to rounder, softer curves and the memory of the way her breast had fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. Before he could stop, his fingers sought to explore her ripe body.

  Maggie remained completely still, waiting patiently for him to roll her onto her back and make love to her. When he didn’t move and she suspected that he might not ease the painful longing throbbing within her, she rolled onto her back and linked her arms around his neck.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded.

  “Maggie.” He ground out her name like a man possessed, and hungrily devoured her lips with deep, slow, hot kisses that drove him to the brink of insanity. Groaning, he buried his face in her hair and drew deep gulps of oxygen into his parched lungs. Again, he kissed her, tasting her willingness, reveling in her eagerness.

  Her hands rumpled the dark thickness of his hair while she repeated his name again and again. Hungry for the taste of him, Maggie urged his mouth to hers, but his devouring kiss only increased her aching need.

  “I want you,” he groaned, breathing in sharply.

  “Yes,” she murmured, kissing the hollow of his throat and arching against him.

  “Oh Glenn,” Maggie groaned in a harsh whisper. “What took you so long?” The sensation was so blissfully exultant that she felt she could have died from it.

  Looping her arms around his neck, Maggie strained upward and planted a long, hot kiss on his parted mouth. “How can any man be so blind?”

  “Next time, hit me over the head.” He arched forward then, and buried himself deep within her.

  Maggie moaned. “I will. Oh Glenn, I will,” she cried.

  He took her quickly, unable to bear slow torture. Their bodies fused in a glorious union of heart with soul, of man with woman, of Maggie with Glenn. They strained together, giving, receiving, until their hearts beat in a paired tempo that left them breathless, giddy, and spent.

  Glenn gathered her in his arms and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, their legs entwined as if reluctant to release the moment.

  Maggie felt the pressure of his mouth on her hair and snuggled closer into his embrace, relishing the feel of his strong arms wrapped securely around her.

  Brushing a wayward curl from her cheek, Glenn’s hand lingered to lightly stroke the side of her face. Maggie smiled gently up at him, the contented smile of a satisfied woman.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she teased.

  Glenn chuckled, his warm breath fanning her forehead. “Did my tossing and turning keep you awake?”

  “Not really … I was only half asleep.” Maggie lowered her chin and covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn. “Good night, Mr. Lambert,” she whispered, dragging out the words as she swallowed back another yawn.

  “Mrs. Lambert,” he murmured huskily, kissing the crown of her head.

  Maggie’s last thought before slipping into an easy slumber was that she wasn’t ever going to allow another woman’s ghost to come between them again. This man was her husband and she loved him … yes, loved him with a ferocity she was only beginning to understand. Together they were going to make this marriage work. One hundred Angies weren’t going to stand in the way of their happiness. Maggie wouldn’t allow it.

  Within minutes Maggie was asleep. Still awake, Glenn propped up his head with one hand and took delight in peacefully watching the woman who had become everything to him in such a shockingly short amount of time. She was his friend, his lover, his wife, and he had the feeling he had skimmed only the surface of who and what Maggie would be in his life. His finger lightly traced the line of her cheek and the hollow of her throat. As impulsive as their marriage had been, there wasn’t a second when Glenn regretted having pledged his life to Maggie. She was fresh and warm, a loving, free spirit. And he adored her. She had come to him with an ardor he had only dreamed of finding in a woman. She was stubborn, impulsive, headstrong: a rare and exquisite jewel. His jewel. His woman. His wife.

  The low, melodious sound of a ballad slowly woke Maggie.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Glenn said as he sat on the edge of the mattress and kissed her lightly. He finished buttoning his shirt and flipped up the collar as he straightened the silk tie around his neck.

  “You’re dressed,” she said, struggling to a sitting position and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She had wanted to get up with him, but must have missed the alarm.

  “Would you like to undress me?”

  Leaning against the down pillow, Maggie crossed her arms and smiled beguilingly up at him. “What would you do if I said yes?”

  Glenn’s fingers quit working the silk tie. “Don’t tempt me, Maggie. I’m running late already.”

  “I tempt you?” He’d never said anything more beautiful.

  “If only you knew.”

  “I hope you’ll show me.” She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and leaned forward. “It … it was wonderful last night.” She felt shy talking about their lovemaking, but it was imperative that he realize how much he pleased her.

  “Yes, it was,” he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “I never expected anything so good between us.”

  “Me neither,” she murmured, and kissed his hand. “I wish you’d gotten me up earlier.”

  “Why?” He looked surprised.

  Tossing back the covers, Maggie climbed out of bed and slipped into a matching black satin housecoat that she hadn’t bothered to put on the night before—for obvious reasons. “I wanted to do the wifely thing and cook your breakfast.”

  “I haven’t got time this morning.” He paused, thinking he’d never seen any woman more beautiful. Her tousled hair fell to her shoulders, her face was free of any cosmetics, but no siren had ever been more alluring.

  “Is there anything you’d like me to do while you’re gone?” she offered. The day stretched before her and they hadn’t made plans.

  “Yes, in fact, there are several things. I’ll make a list.” He reached for a pad and paper on his nightstand and spent the next few minutes giving her directions and instructions. “And don’t plan dinner tonight,” he added. “I phoned my parents yesterday and told them I had a surprise and to expect two for dinner.”

  Maggie sat on the bed beside him, and unconsciously her shoulders slouched slightly. This was the very reason she’d come to Charleston, yet she was afraid. “Will they think we’ve gone crazy?”

 
“Probably,” he returned with a short chuckle. “But they’ll be delighted. Don’t worry about it; they know you and have always liked you. Mom and Dad will be happy for us.”

  “I’m happy, Glenn.” She wanted to reassure him that she had no regrets in this venture.

  His dark eyes were serious, and his gaze held her immobile. “I am, too, for the first time since I can remember. We’re going to make it, Maggie.”

  A grandfather clock in the den chimed the hour, and reluctantly Glenn stood. “I’ve got to leave.”

  “Glenn.” Maggie stopped him, then lowered her gaze, almost afraid of what she had to say. Waiting until the last minute to tell him wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “I’m … Listen, I think you should probably know that I’m not using any birth control.” His index finger lifted her chin so that her uncertain gaze met his. “That’s fine. I want a family.”

  A sigh of relief washed through her, and she beamed him a brilliant smile. “I probably should warn you, though, my mother claims the Kingsbury clan is a fertile one. We could be starting our family sooner than you expect.”

  “Don’t worry about it; I’m not going to. When a baby comes, you can be assured of a warm welcome.”

  Maggie experienced an outpouring of love far too powerful to be voiced with simple words. Nodding demanded an incredible effort.

  “I’ll leave the car keys with you and I’ll take public transportation. If you’re in the neighborhood around noon, stop into the office and I’ll introduce you and take you to lunch.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” she said, stepping onto her tiptoes to kiss him good-bye. There was barely enough time to do everything she had to and be ready for dinner with his parents that evening.

  A minute later, Glenn was out the door. The condo seemed an empty shell without him. Maggie wandered into the kitchen with her list of errands, then poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the round table. She pulled out a chair and sat, drawing her legs under her. The first place she needed to stop was the bank to sign the forms that would add her name to the checking account. When she was there, Glenn had asked her to make a deposit for him.

  She glanced at the front page of the paper he had left on the table and worked the crossword puzzle, then finished her coffee and dressed. The day held purpose. If she was going to see his parents, it might not be a bad idea to find someplace where she could have her hair done.

  With a jaunty step, Maggie found the deposit envelope Glenn had mentioned on the top of his desk. The room emanated his essence, and she paused to drink it in. As she turned, Maggie caught a glimpse of a frame sticking above the rim of his wastepaper basket. What an unusual thing to do to a picture, she thought. As an artist, her sense of indignation rose until she lifted the frame from out of the basket and saw the multitude of small pictures with faces smiling back at her. Her breath came to an abrupt halt and the room crowded in on her, pressing at her with a strangling sensation. So this was Angie.

  Chapter Seven

  The first thought that came to Maggie was how beautiful Angie was. With thick, coffee-dark hair and intense brown eyes that seemed to mirror her soul, Angie had the ethereal look of a woman meant to be cherished, loved, and protected. There was an inner glow, a delicate beauty to her that Maggie could never match. Angie was a woman meant to be loved and nurtured. It was little wonder that Glenn loved her. One glance at the woman who claimed his heart told Maggie that by comparison she was a poor second.

  The frame contained a series of matted pictures that had obviously been taken over a period of several months. There was Angie on a sailboat, her windblown hair flying behind her as she smiled into the camera; Angie leaning over a barbecue, wearing an apron that said KISS THE COOK; Angie standing, surrounded by floral bouquets, in what looked like a flower shop, with her arms outstretched as though to signal this was hers. And more … so much more. Each picture revealed the rare beauty of the woman who claimed Glenn’s heart.

  A sickening knot tightened Maggie’s stomach, and she placed a hand on her abdomen and slowly released her breath. Although most of the photos were of Angie alone, two of them showed Glenn and Angie together. If recognizing the other woman’s inner and outer beauty wasn’t devastating enough, then the happiness radiating from Glenn was. Maggie had never seen him more animated. He seemed to glow with love. In all the years Maggie had known Glenn, she had never seen him look more content. He was at peace with his world, and so in love that it shone like a polished badge from every part of him. In comparison, the Glenn who had arrived in San Francisco was a sullen, doleful imitation.

  Pushing the hair off her forehead, Maggie leaned against a filing cabinet and briefly closed her eyes. As early as the night before, she’d thought to banish Angie’s ghost from their marriage. She had been a fool to believe it would be that easy. With a feeling of dread, she placed the frame back where she’d found it. Building a firm foundation for their marriage wasn’t going to be easy, not nearly as easy as she’d thought. But then, nothing worthwhile ever was. Maggie loved her husband. Physically, he wanted her, and for now that would suffice. Someday Glenn would look at her with the same glow of happiness that Angie evoked. Someday his love for her would be there for all the world to witness. Someday …

  Glancing at her wristwatch, Maggie hurried from the bathroom into the bedroom. In a few hours she and Glenn were having dinner with his parents, Charlotte and Mel, people she’d known and liked all her life. Family friends, former neighbors, good people. Yet Maggie had never been less sure of herself. Already she had changed outfits twice. This one would have to do, she decided. There wasn’t time to change her mind again. As she put the finishing touches on her makeup, Maggie muttered disparaging remarks over the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose; wanted to know why her lashes couldn’t be longer and her mouth fuller. Mentally, she had reviewed her body: Her breasts looked like cantaloupes, her hips like a barge; her legs were too short, her arms too long. Maggie could see every imperfection. Finally, she had been forced to admit that no amount of cosmetics was going to make her as lovely as Angie. She had to stop thinking of Charlotte and Mel as the mother- and father-in-law who would compare her to their son’s first choice. She had to force herself to remember them instead as the friends she knew they were.

  Perhaps if she’d had more time to prepare mentally for this dinner, she thought defensively. As it was, the list of errands had taken most of the day, and Maggie had been grateful to have something to occupy her time and her mind. Instead of concentrating on being bright and witty for her meeting with Glenn’s parents, her thoughts had returned again and again to the discarded series of photographs. If she had found those photos, she reasoned, then there were probably other pictures around. The realization that Angie could be a silent occupant of the condominium was an intolerable conjecture.

  When Glenn had walked in the door that afternoon and kissed her, Maggie had toyed with the idea of confronting him with the pictures. Sanity had returned in the nick of time. He had obviously intended to throw them away, but surely he must have realized that she would stumble upon them. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but Maggie had decided to ignore the fact that the pictures were in the other room, and pretended she hadn’t seen them. For the first time since their marriage, things were going right, and she didn’t want to ruin that.

  “Maggie, are you ready?” Glenn sauntered into the bedroom and hesitated when he saw her. “I thought you were wearing a blue dress.”

  “I … was,” she answered slowly, turning and squaring her shoulders. “Do I look all right?”

  “You’re lovely.” He placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Maggie, I wish you’d stop worrying. Mom and Dad are going to be thrilled for us.”

  “I know.” Absently, she brushed her hand across the skirt of her black-and-red-print dress and slowly released her breath. “I’ve always been Muffie to them, and I’m … I’m not sure they’ll be able to acc
ept me as your wife.”

  Glenn’s chuckle echoed through the bedroom. “Maggie, how can they not accept you? You’re my wife. Mother’s been after me for years to marry and settle down. She’ll be grateful I finally took the plunge.”

  “That’s encouraging,” she mumbled sarcastically. “So you were desperate to placate your mother and decided I’d do nicely as a wife. Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  The muscles of his face tightened and a frown marred his wide brow as he dropped his hands to his sides. “That’s not true and you know it.”

  Ashamed, Maggie lowered her head and nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. My stomach feels like a thousand bumblebees have set up camp. Even my hands are clammy.” She held them out, palms up, for him to inspect. “Wait until we visit my parents, then you’ll know how I feel.”

  Slipping an arm around her waist, Glenn led her into the living room. “If you’re worried, stick to my side and I’ll answer all the questions.”

  “I had no intention of leaving your side,” she returned, slightly miffed.

  A faint smile touched his mouth.

  The ride to Glenn’s parents’ did little to settle her nerves. Maggie thought she would be glad when this evening was over. When Glenn turned off the main road and into a narrow street lined with family homes, Maggie tensed. Two blocks later he slowed and turned into a concrete driveway.

  Before Maggie was out of the car the front door opened and Mel and Charlotte Lambert were standing on the wide porch. Maggie was surprised by how little they’d changed. Glenn’s father’s hair was completely gray now and his hairline had receded, but he stood proud and broad-shouldered, just as Maggie remembered him. Glenn’s mother was a little rounder, and wearing a dress. As a child, Maggie knew she was always welcome in the Lamberts’ kitchen. Charlotte had claimed it was a pleasure having another woman around since she lived with a house full of men. Maggie had dropped over regularly when Dale, the youngest Lambert, was born. She had been at the age to appreciate babies and had loved to help feed and bathe him.