by Laura Taylor
He looked less combative and even more confused. She knew he had a right to his confusion. When he released her wrists, she caught his hands and laced her fingers through his. "Would you ever marry a woman like my mother?"
"Jessica…" he began impatiently.
"Humor me and answer my question."
"Honestly?"
"Honestly, Dev."
"No, I wouldn’t. Monica’s always seemed a little too breakable emotionally. I want an equal, not a dependent."
"I am my mother’s daughter," she said. "So what’s to prevent me from becoming like her?"
"You’re also your father’s daughter, and from what my parents have told me about him, he was one tough son of a bitch."
"But what if, down deep where it really counts, especially in a crisis, what if I’m more like my mother? What if I have her weaknesses?"
"You’re your own person until the day you decide not to be." He looked genuinely bewildered by her questions. "Sure, you’re the physical product of your parents’ marriage, but you’re also a product of your own life experiences, the values you’ve acquired, and the battles you’ve fought and survived."
"But, Dev, what if I am like her?"
"You aren’t," he said sharply. "Where she’s psychologically fragile, you’re emotionally vulnerable. There’s a world of difference between the two. Where in hell are you going with these questions?"
She frowned. "How can you be so sure?"
"I just am. Why are we playing twenty questions?"
She pressed on. "We aren’t playing, Dev. What if I’m not strong enough to be a real partner?"
He exhaled, the sound filled with exasperation. "I can’t imagine a better partner."
"What if I cave in the way she did when my Dad went missing? Wouldn’t you always worry about that possibility? Wouldn’t you be concerned about my… mental health? Would that kind of potential family weakness eat at you if we decided to have children, or if you went to war and were shot down? Would it haunt you if you had to worry about whether or not your wife could take the pressure?"
"Jessica, you’re not a clone of your mother. More important, you aren’t anything like her, but I think I’m starting to understand what’s been scaring the hell out of you all these years, and I can hardly believe my ears. You’re an intelligent woman, for God’s sake, and this is a speculative, worse–case–scenario kind of conversation that has no bearing on reality."
"Do you remember what happened to me during the tornado?" she asked quietly.
"What are you talking about?"
She eased her hands free and pressed her palms together as she met his gaze. "I went into some kind of insane sexual frenzy when I panicked."
"There was a storm raging outside, and then a storm raged between us. That’s not a form of insanity. That was passion taken to the edge."
Without warning, Jessica scrambled off the bed and crossed the room to stand before the window that looked out onto Willow Lake. Trembling, she tried to calm herself as she watched the first hint of dawn edge onto the horizon. She flinched when his hands settled heavily atop her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away when he drew her back against the lean hard strength of his naked body.
"We made love in the middle of one of nature’s nightmares." He continued with a quiet certainty as he said, "We cared for and about each other in a crisis. We loved each other. We could have died that night, and we both knew it on some subconscious level. We reached out to each other, instead, Jessie, and we celebrated life by making love." He hesitated and then settled his hand over her belly. "We might have even made a baby. So what if we both went a little crazy? It doesn’t matter how we got through the night. It just matters that we did. Together." He turned her around so that she faced him. "I won’t let you write off what we shared that night as some form of mental instability."
She met his gaze. "How can you be so certain about me when I’m not always certain about myself?"
"Because I apparently know you better than you know yourself. You’re the most passionate, most intensely sensual woman I’ve ever known. You’re also capable and intelligent, except when you doubt your genetic makeup, which for my money is pretty damn fine. I’d trust you in the worst of circumstances well before I’d trust anyone else." He brought her into his heat and strength, wrapped his arms around her, and held her. "You’re the strongest and most stubborn woman I’ve ever known, and you’re also the most courageous."
"You’re strong, Dev, and you’re resilient." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I became my mother’s caretaker for more years than I care to count, which probably makes me sound like a rotten daughter. I couldn’t bear it if I became like her and you wound up having to care for me and our children. What a nightmare that would be for you. I’d be failing you if that happened."
He tipped up her chin and then bracketed her head between gentle hands. "The only way you’ll ever fail me is if you run from me or you stop loving me. If you’re always true to yourself, you can’t possibly fail me. It’s that simple."
"I want to believe you, but I’m still a little worried."
He suddenly smiled down at her, startling her. "Part of me would like to take you and shake some sense into you, Jessica Cleary. The other part of me, the best part of me, I think, just wants to love you and live with you and prove to you just how wrong you are to doubt yourself. I refuse to allow your self–doubt to separate us ever again. Are we clear on that?"
She huffed, "Do you expect me to salute and follow orders like a good little camp follower, Major?"
"That’s Lieutenant Colonel, ma’am. And sure, you can salute me anytime you want, but I want you naked when you do it. I also expect you to write your books, because they’re damned important, Jessie. I also want children with you, and I want us to make a home together wherever the hell the Marine Corps sends us every few years."
Still stunned by the torturous path of self–doubt she’d traveled since her father’s death, Dev looked deeply into her shock–filled eyes. What he saw in her gaze was the strength within her that had allowed her to endure years of isolation and loneliness, however misguided the journey. "I just wish to hell I’d seen and understood your fear when we were together ten years ago."
She relaxed against him and slipped her arms around his waist.
Dev asked, "Have you ever taken a good look in a mirror and asked yourself what other people see when they look at you? Do you have any idea what my parents think of you? They respect you for what you’ve done for Monica, although I think that if my mother ever discovers that she doesn’t have grandchildren from me yet because you’ve spent the last ten years thinking you might flip out someday, she might not be too thrilled."
"I simply did what I thought was right."
"That’s just my point. You took the morally correct path where your mother was concerned, a path most other people would have side–stepped or run away from, only you’re too blind to see it."
"I’m not blind," she insisted. "The evidence of what might happen to me has been staring me in the face since the day my father died. My mother had more than one nervous breakdown. My mother was so unstable, she tried to take her own life. Not once, but several times. After she stopped trying to do herself in, she retreated from the world until your parents helped her to deal with reality."
"And then you picked up the reins," he reminded her in a voice that ached with the loneliness her departure from his life had caused.
"Of course, I did. I had no other choice. Monica became my responsibility. I couldn’t walk out on her. She wasn’t able to fight for herself."
"Why did you do it, Jessica?"
"She’s my mother. Despite her frailties, I do love her."
"You elected to create an environment that allowed her to regain her self–esteem and feel secure emotionally. Jessie love, you’ve honored both your mother and your father. Most people aren’t capable of doing what you’ve done."
"I di
d what was right. And quit looking at me as though I’m some noble creature. I’m not. I’ve resented her. I’ve been angry with her, but I tried never to let her see what I felt when I was upset. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been hurt by my dad’s death."
He captured her lips and kissed her with aching tenderness. "You keep making all my points for me. And for the record, you are noble. You have integrity. You’re sensitive, caring, and compassionate. You’re strong enough for other people to lean on, so they do. You’ve given so much of yourself to others, you’ve robbed yourself. And you’ve robbed me, too, but that officially ends tonight."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I didn’t want to hurt you, Dev. I love you so much. I always have. But I couldn’t risk putting you in the position of possibly becoming my caretaker. It wouldn’t have been fair to you."
"Don’t cry. I can’t think when you cry."
"Do you really believe I’m all those things you said?" she asked as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Yes, but we should add misguided, mule–headed, perfectionist, control freak, and workaholic to the list."
"And you really don’t think there’s any danger that I’ll…"
"None," he said firmly.
"I was afraid I’d frightened you when I got so out of control that night in the storm cellar."
He laughed. "You turned the heat up until I thought I’d go up in flames. Hell, I did go up in flames."
She flushed under the sexual scrutiny in his gaze. "Monica got married," she said.
He nodded. "I know."
"She told you before me?"
He shook his head. "I called her before I left Washington."
She groaned when he palmed her breasts with his hands. She felt her knees weaken and her nipples tighten into hard buds of sensation. "Don’t tell me. You know Hal Perkins, too."
"Not guilty. My parents do, though. They like him. He’ll be the rudder your mother needs in her life."
"Have I been living in a cave?"
"You have tunnel vision, Ms. Innkeeper." She looked so outraged, he laughed. "Jessie, you’ve been taking care of others at the expense of your own life and a love you can call your own. Noble, I grant you, but totally not necessary any longer."
"I do love you," she whispered. "I love you so much."
"Do you love me enough to marry me? Do you love me enough to trust me and believe me when I tell you that you couldn’t ever disappoint me?" He slowly backed her across the room as he questioned her. "Will you marry me, Jessie love?"
"Yes, yes, and yes!" The back of her knees bumped against the side of the bed.
"Will you be the mother of my children?"
He tumbled her back across the bed. Careful not to crush her as he came down over her, he lowered his head and nipped lightly at the underside of one plump breast.
"Oh, yes," she breathed, trembling beneath his aroused body.
He moved to her other breast. "You’re perfect."
Before she could contradict him, he peered up at her and pressed a fingertip to her lips. She sucked the digit into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the tip. Groaning, he returned his attention to her breasts.
"You’re perfect for me, and that’s all that counts," he told her several minutes later.
She did feel perfect. For him.
Jessica came alive as he made love to her. And within his fierce embrace and under the onslaught of his even fiercer passion, she again became his midnight storm.
–End–
