Just One Last Night

by Helen Brooks

  She met him kiss for kiss, caress for caress, and when he finally eased her thighs apart she was shameless in her need of him inside her. They moved together as she grasped him tight and close, the sheer exquisite physical pleasure taking them both to new heights. They climaxed together in perfect unity, wave after wave of sweet, hot gratification causing them to cry out their release.

  They lay wrapped in each other’s arms as they drifted back to reality, the remnants of pleasure taking some time to disperse.

  Forde smiled as he traced her mouth with the tip of his finger. ‘Breakfast is cold,’ he murmured, kissing the tip of her small nose.

  ‘It’ll still taste good.’ Anything would taste good right now. And then, as she felt the baby inside her move more vigorously than it had before, she caught his hand and placed it on her belly. ‘Can you feel that?’

  His face lit up. ‘I think so. It’s just the slightest ripple but, yes, I can feel it.’

  ‘Our child, Forde.’ And as she said it she realised the fear had gone …

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT STARTED to snow again just before lunch, but Forde had cleared a path to the logs and coal and they were as snug as bugs in rugs in the cottage. They spent most of the day curled up in front of the fire watching TV in each other’s arms, eating the provisions Forde had brought and observing Tabitha with her kittens. The little cat was eating like a horse, seemingly intent on making up for lost time, and all three kittens seemed remarkably strong considering the state their mother had been in shortly before they were born.

  Mid-afternoon when the snow had stopped and the sky had turned mother-of-pearl with streams of pure silver, they were surprised to hear a knock at the door. The vet stood there, her sturdy legs encased in green wellingtons and thick trousers and her padded jacket making her appear twice as big.

  ‘I’ve just paid a visit to a farm not far from here so I thought I’d look in,’ she said cheerfully, as though she weren’t standing in half a foot of snow. ‘How’s the patient?’

  Melanie made her a hot drink while she examined Tabitha and the kittens, announcing mother and babies to be in remarkably good health considering the odds that had been stacked against them. ‘The little ginger one is a tom,’ she told them, giving the kitten back to Tabitha, who began to give it a thorough clean. ‘And the two black-and-white ones are females. As she seems to be getting on with being a good mother we’ll leave well alone at the moment. Certainly the kittens’ bellies are full and they don’t appear unduly hungry or distressed.’

  She downed her coffee as though she had a tin throat and left, remarking as she stepped out into the cold afternoon, ‘All’s well that ends well, I’m pleased to say.’

  Forde held Melanie’s hand very tight. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘All’s well that ends well. Merry Christmas.’

  They awoke disgracefully late on Christmas Day, having gone to bed early but not to sleep. They had been both playful and intense in their lovemaking, one as eager as the other for the night not to end, until, in the early hours of the morning just before it got light, they’d gone to sleep with their arms round each other.

  The morning was sparkling bright and clear, the sky icy-blue crystal and the scene outside the cottage a winter wonderland. In the far distance they could hear the faint sound of church bells ringing, and the world seemed reborn in its mantle of pure white.

  Forde got up and went downstairs to check on Tabitha and make some coffee, which he brought back to bed after putting the turkey on, causing Melanie to feel deliciously lazy. Her languorous air was abruptly shattered when she saw the small but beautifully wrapped gift next to her coffee and toast, though. She shot up in bed, her voice a wail. ‘Forde, I haven’t got you anything. You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Yes, I should.’ He smiled at her, amused at the very feminine response. ‘Besides, I had a slight advantage over you, didn’t I? I knew I was coming here. I was going to leave this somewhere for you to find after I had gone,’ he added softly. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to throw yourself on my bosom and beg for my help, nice though that was, I hasten to add.’

  ‘What is it?’

  He joined her in bed, handing the little box to her. ‘See for yourself, but first—’ he took her in his arms and kissed her very thoroughly ‘—happy Christmas, my darling.’

  She undid the ribbon and pulled off the paper before lifting the lid off the box, gasping as she saw the exquisite brooch it held. The two tiny lovebirds were fashioned from precious stones forming a circle with their wings and their minute beaks were touching in a kiss. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. ‘Forde.’ She raised shining eyes to his. ‘It’s so perfect. Wherever did you find it?’

  ‘I had it specially commissioned.’ He put his arm round her, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘It says what I want to say every day of my life to you.’

  The stones were shooting off different colours in the shaft of sunlight slanting in from the window, making the birds appear alive, and as the baby in her womb kicked suddenly Melanie had a moment of pure joy. They were going to be all right, she thought with a deep thankfulness. They had weathered the storm and come out the other side. She could believe it.

  It was a perfect Christmas Day. Forde prepared the dinner while they listened to carols and Christmas songs courtesy of Melanie’s CD player. He wouldn’t let her lift a finger, expertly dishing up the food once it was cooked, and flaming the plum pudding with brandy and making her squeal with surprise.

  Tabitha tucked into her portion of turkey and stuffing with gusto, and when Forde put down a saucerful of cream for the little cat it was clear she couldn’t believe her luck. She seemed to have settled with the kittens and hadn’t moved her little family again. Melanie hoped it was because Tabitha knew she was safe and secure now.

  After lunch, with Tabitha and the kittens fast asleep in their basket in front of the fire in the sitting room, Melanie and Forde built a snowman in her tiny courtyard as the sun began to set in a white sky, sending rivers of red and gold and violet across the heavens. The air was bitingly cold and crisp and somewhere close a blackbird was singing its heart out, the pure notes hanging on the cold air.

  For a moment Melanie knew a piercing pain that Matthew wasn’t with them. He would have probably begun to toddle by now, she thought, lifting her face to the sunset. He would have loved the snow.

  ‘You’re thinking of him. I can always tell.’

  She hadn’t been aware that Forde was watching her, but now he enfolded her into his arms, holding her tight, as she murmured, ‘I would have loved to tell him that we love him, that we’ll always love him no matter how many other children we have. That he’ll for ever be our precious little boy, our firstborn.’

  ‘You’ll be able to tell him that one day and give him all the cuddles and kisses you want, my love.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’ She pulled away slightly to look into his dark face. ‘Really believe it?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ His eyes glinted down at her in the half-light. ‘But for now we’re here on earth and we have to get on with our lives and care for and love other children we’re given. We are going to become a family when this child is born, Nell, and although the grief of losing Matthew will never fade you will learn to live with it and stop feeling guilty that you can still experience happiness and pleasure.’

  ‘How do you know I feel like that sometimes?’ she asked him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  ‘Because I felt the same at first,’ said Forde softly. ‘I think all parents must in the aftermath of losing a baby or child. It’s not only a terrible thing, but it’s unnatural too, the wrong order in life. A parent should never outlive its child.’

  She leant into him, needing his strength and understanding. ‘It will be all right this time, won’t it?’ she said very quietly. ‘I couldn’t bear—’

  ‘None of that.’ He lifted her chin with one finger, gazing deep into her eyes. ‘We are going to have a beautiful son or
daughter, Nell. I promise you. Look at Tabitha and have faith, OK?’

  She smiled shakily. ‘People would think it was stupid to believe because one little cat made it against all the odds, it’s a sign for us.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what people think.’ He pulled her more firmly into him. ‘And this is Christmas, don’t forget. A time for miracles and for wishes to come true. Who would have thought a few days ago we would be standing here like this, Nell? But we are. We’re together again and stronger than ever before. And talking of miracles—’ he touched her belly ‘—one night of love and this child came into being. Now, I know we would still have been together in the long run because I would never have accepted anything else, but this baby was a catalyst for you in many ways.’

  His voice was so full of the relentless determination and assurance she’d come to associate with the man she loved that Melanie smiled again. ‘So you’re saying we’re part of a Christmas miracle?’

  ‘Dead right, we are.’ He grinned, looking up into the sky. ‘Look at that. It’s specially for us, you know. A true modern-art spectacular.’

  Melanie giggled. ‘You’re crazy—you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘For you? Guilty as charged.’ He turned her to look at their snowman, who was definitely something of a cross-dresser, having one of Melanie’s scarves tied round his neck—a pink, fluffy number with tiny sequins sewn into it—and one of her summer straw hats complete with ribbons and tiny daisies. ‘Is he finished?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘Then I suggest we go inside and warm up.’

  ‘In front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate?’

  ‘Possibly.’ He eyed her sexily. ‘Not quite what I had in mind, though. I was thinking of something more… cosy.’

  ‘More cosy than hot chocolate?’ she murmured, pretending ignorance.

  ‘As in one hundred per cent.’

  ‘Oh, well, in that case …’

  ‘And remember.’ He took her cold face in his hands, suddenly serious. ‘I love you and you love me. Anything else—anything—comes second to that.’

  Melanie nodded. She wanted to believe that. She needed to. And perhaps that was what this was all about: a step of faith. She linked her arms round his neck. ‘I love Christmas.’

  He kissed her forehead, dislodging her bright scarlet pom-pom hat in the process. ‘Best time of the year,’ he said huskily. ‘The very best.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MELANIE was remembering the magic of Christmas as Forde drove her to the hospital in the last week of May.

  The weather couldn’t have been more different. For weeks the country had been enjoying warm, sunny days more typical of the Mediterranean, and James and the assistant she had hired to help him had been rushed off their feet with work. Business was booming and already her small company had a reputation for excellent reliability and first-class results, which boded well for the future. But Melanie wasn’t thinking of James or the company as Forde’s Aston Martin ate up the miles to the hospital; she was lost in the enchantment of those days when she and Forde had been enclosed in their own isolated world, along with Tabitha and the kittens, of course.

  The kittens had grown swiftly into little cats developing distinct personalities of their own. They had named the two little females Holly and Ivy, and the larger boy Noel, and it was a good thing Tabitha was something of a strict mother because the three could be quite a handful. But Melanie loved them passionately and because love begot love, they loved her back, even if it was in the somewhat superior feline version of that emotion. Her favourite was Tabitha though. The little tabby was devoted to Melanie in the same way a dog would be, following her about the house and liking nothing more than to lie at her feet or on her lap whenever she could. She kept her troublesome threesome under control by a swift tap of the paw now and again and the odd warning growl when they stepped out of line, but on the whole it was a happy household.

  It was Tabitha who was at the forefront of Melanie’s mind as she said, ‘You made sure the cats were all in before we left?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Forde’s voice was indulgent. She had asked him the same question twice before. ‘And the TV’s off and the back door’s locked. OK?’

  Melanie smiled at him. She had been in labour for some hours but the contractions had followed no particular pattern and there had been no urgency about them. Then, with a suddenness that had surprised her and panicked Forde, they’d increased dramatically in intensity with considerably less time between them.

  Her overnight bag had been packed for weeks and left in the same place, at the foot of their bed, but somehow Forde had been unable to find it until she had lent a hand. She glanced now at the speedometer, her voice deliberately casual when she said, ‘We’re doing fifty in a thirty zone, Forde.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice was a little strained.

  ‘There’s plenty of time.’ But even as she spoke a new contraction gripped her, her muscles tightening until it was nigh on unbearable before loosening again.

  ‘OK?’ Forde hadn’t slowed one iota and the glance he shot at her was desperate. ‘I told you we should have left hours ago, Nell.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She was able to smile again. ‘Three of the mothers from the antenatal classes were sent home again due to false alarms and I’d just die if that was me. I wanted to make sure.’

  Forde groaned. ‘Would having the baby in the car convince you?’ And then realising that wasn’t the most tactful of remarks, he added quickly, ‘Not that we wouldn’t cope with that, of course, if it happened, but I’d prefer you to be in hospital.’

  She would too, actually. And she was beginning to think she might have left it a little late—not that she’d admit that to Forde. Not the way he was driving.

  Melanie focused her thoughts on the baby, willing herself to be calm and composed. They had decided they didn’t want to know the sex of their child at the twenty-week scan at the beginning of the year. It didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was that the baby was healthy after all.

  They arrived at the hospital in a violet twilight that was balmy and scented with summer, but for once Melanie was oblivious to the beauty of the flowering bushes surrounding the car park as another contraction held her stomach in a vice. She held onto Forde at the side of the car as it gathered steam and then began to pant like an animal, her nails digging into his flesh.

  ‘I’ll go and get a wheelchair,’ he said, glancing round with a hunted expression on his face as though one were going to pop into his vision any moment. ‘Sit back in the car.’

  She held onto him with all her strength until the contraction was over and then said firmly, ‘I am most certainly not using a wheelchair, Forde Masterson. They’re four minutes apart so we can get to Reception before the next one and then I can wait a while before we go to the maternity unit.’

  He looked at her with huge admiration. Since she had returned home with him after they had spent Christmas in the cottage, she had taken everything in her stride. He had to admit he had been like a cat on a hot tin roof the past couple of weeks waiting for the baby to come, but Melanie had been what he could only call serene. They had decorated the nursery in pale lemon and cream eight weeks ago and everything was ready for the new arrival. They just needed the baby now. His stomach jumped with excitement mixed with concern for Melanie. He hadn’t expected her to be in such pain, although perhaps he should have.

  They didn’t make Reception before the next contraction had her clinging onto him. Now fear was added to the mix. He had visions of the baby being born in the car park and delivering it himself. He should have made her come to the hospital earlier, he told himself desperately as Melanie’s fingers fastened on his wrists like steel bands. But she was so damn stubborn. And wonderful and beautiful and amazing.

  After what seemed an eternity her grip lessened, although he could see beads of perspiration on her brow. ‘Wow.’ She smiled shakily. ‘Do you remember what
they told us in the classes if the baby comes unexpectedly?’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said weakly.

  He half carried her the rest of the way and once they stepped through the massive glass doors into Reception the hospital machine took over with an efficiency Forde was thankful for. In no time they’d been whisked along to the maternity unit and placed in a delivery room. For a moment he remembered the last time they had been in the unit and his guts twisted, but when he looked at Melanie she was concentrating on following the midwife’s instructions. He stared at her face, at her total look of concentration and the courage she was displaying, and his world swung back onto its axis.

  ‘You’re doing fine, sweetheart,’ he murmured, wishing he could share the pain. ‘Not long now.’

  In fact the contractions continued at three-minute intervals for the next two hours, which seemed a lifetime to Forde, although the hospital staff didn’t seem unduly concerned.

  Melanie was getting tired, even dozing between one contraction and the next in the couple of minutes’ respite, but she still held onto his hand with the strength of a dozen women and every so often would smile and tell him everything was all right. He felt helpless, badgering the midwife once or twice until that good lady sent him a look like a dagger.

  Then, suddenly, a little while after midnight, everything speeded up. Melanie began pushing and another midwife joined them, the two women stationed either side of Melanie’s bent legs while he sat by the bed holding her hand. He wouldn’t have thought she had enough strength left for what was required but as ever she proved him wrong, pushing with all her might when the midwives told her to push and panting like an animal again when they told her to stop.

  Twenty minutes later their son was born and he was a whopper, according to the midwife who immediately placed him in Melanie’s arms. Forde knew if he lived to be a hundred he would never forget the expression on Melanie’s face as she gazed into the little screwed-up face. And the baby looked back with bright blue-grey eyes as if he knew his mother already. ‘Hello, you,’ she whispered softly, the tears running down her face as she kissed his velvety brow. ‘I’m your mummy, my precious darling. And this is your daddy.’ She turned to Forde with a radiant smile to see his cheeks were wet too.