by Grace Green
‘As I said.’ McAllister’s lips hovered close to hers. ‘A perfect family.’ His mouth brushed hers tantalizingly, till every cell in her body was screaming for a proper kiss. But just as she parted her lips to beg for just that, he obliged. Only it was rather an improper kiss, she decided blissfully after a few mindless minutes; she’d never known that a tongue was designed for such a slyly arousing purpose. With a tiny sound in her throat, she gave herself up to his clever seduction.
When he at last allowed her to come up for air, she whispered, ‘Oh, McAllister...’
He grinned down at her, his eyes teasing. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me by my given name?’
She threaded her fingers through his hair, glorying in its rich texture, and returned his gaze dreamily. ‘Damian. It’s a nice name. A good name. What does it mean?’
‘It means “One who tames.” Though in your case,’ he planted a kiss on the tip of her nose as she wrinkled it, ‘I haven’t had much success, have I!’
‘Do you want to tame me?’
He kissed her again, to show her he liked her exactly the way she was.
Afterward, as she snuggled close, her palms pressed to his chest, she murmured, ‘You were wrong about something, you know.’
‘And what was that?’ Lazily he kissed the last unmelted snowflake from her hair.
‘You said sharing secrets doesn’t make a difference, but when you told me about... your childhood... it helped me understand why you are the way you are—’
He stiffened, just a little. ‘And what way is that?’ he asked, his tone careful.
‘You... grew up without love. Perhaps your mother loved you—she probably did—but she died when you were so young you’d have retained no memory of it. Your father,’ her voice became grim, ‘showed you only hate. As a child, you must have ached for love...not only to receive it, but to give it. And I’m sure you tried to give it, at least in the beginning, but your father would have thrown it back in your face. So you grew up with all that love locked inside you.’ She hesitated, then went on in a rush, ‘So now, I think, you’re afraid to offer love, in case your offer’s rejected.’
He closed his eyes briefly, as if he’d felt a slash of pain, and then opened them again. ‘And if I were to offer you my love?’ There was a whiteness around his nostrils that hadn’t been there before. ‘What then?’
‘If you were to offer me your love—’ she traced a shaky fingertip over his upper lip ‘—then I would give you my answer. You can’t have the answer, before you ask the question...that would be a cop-out, wouldn’t it! So...are you?’ She swallowed hard, over the lump that had swelled in her throat. ‘Going to offer me your love?’
She could barely guess at how very difficult this must be for him. Giving love, taking love, had for her been the easiest thing in the world. She had grown up with it, she’d always been surrounded by it. It came as naturally to her as breathing. But for McAllister... this simple exchange was beyond the scope of his experience. She felt tension coil inside her as she waited for his response. After a moment that had seemed endless, he closed a hand around one of hers.
‘Come over here.’ He led her across to the high stool in front of his drawing board. He lifted her up onto the stool, and stepped back. As she cupped her hands around the seat, for balance, he got down on one knee.
‘Stephanie Redford.’ His eyes fixed hers with a look so intense it made her want to weep. ‘I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me, and live with me forever?’
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt one spill over and run down her cheek. She smiled down at him, unable to speak for the constriction in her throat.
He stood, and as she started to lower herself from the stool, he caught her under the arms. Holding her close, he slid her, with excruciating slowness, to the floor, letting her body brush against his, every delicious inch of the way.
‘Stephanie.’ His voice was husky, his eyes glistening. ‘You’ve got to say yes, I’ll die if you don’t!’
She framed his face with her hands, and through her tears, smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you, my darling Damian!’
He exhaled a shuddering breath, as if his nerves had been strung almost to breaking point, and her words had come just in time to save them from snapping.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. ‘When?’
Hungrily he returned her kiss, then pulled his head back. ‘Demanding little madam!’ he growled. ‘When would—’
‘June! If there’s one thing I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl, it’s a June wedding! Oh, please, Damian, can it be June?’
‘Mmm.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, August can be a really nice month—’
She chuckled, and gave him a little shake. ‘Oh, you...!’
He kissed her again, so passionately it made her toes curl. ‘If a June wedding is what you want, my sweet, then a June wedding you shall have.’
‘We can make all the plans when we go to Rockfield in May! Golly, it doesn’t give us much time, but since Uncle Pete’s the Rockfield minister, there should be no problem there, and since Aunt Prue owns the Bridal Store, I’ll get a good price on my dress. Jason plays the drums for the Greased Lightning Rock Band so we can get them to play at the wedding dance, and as for the catering, why—’
‘Your feudin’ grandmas run Rockfield’s classiest catering establishment!’
Stephanie did a double-take. ‘How on earth did you know about Kate and Konnie’s Katerin’ Korner?’
Damian threw back his head and his delighted laughter rolled out through the office, echoing back from every corner. ‘Kate and Konnie’s Katerin’ Korner? Good Lord, only in Rockfield, Vermont! Who on earth came up with a name like that!’
‘And what is wrong with that name?’
He wiped a hand over his eyes, and let one last chuckle escape. ‘It’s so schmaltzy—’ He broke off as he saw the look of outrage on her face, stared for a moment, and then guffawed. ‘Oh, Lord, I’ve put my foot in it, have I?’
‘I was only nine when I came up with that name, I’ll have you know—I won a damned contest!’ Despite herself, she giggled. ‘You’re right.’ She grimaced. ‘Schmaltzy.’
‘And I suppose—’ he somehow managed to keep his face straight ‘—one of your relatives has a perfect little place where we can go for our honeymoon?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes! Uncle Herb has a cute little fishing cabin in the woods, by a lake, where—’
‘Where your whole family will feel free to pop in and visit us, any time of the day or night! No, my love, you can have your own way over everything except the honeymoon hotel. I’ll choose that...and I can assure you, it’ll be at least a thousand miles from Rockfield!’
‘I don’t mind.’ Honeymoon. Stephanie felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘I’ll be happy to go wherever you want—’
‘You’re blushing! Surely you’re not embarrassed at the thought of—’ His eyes narrowed and he stared at her for a long moment. ‘Good Lord,’ he said at last, ‘don’t tell me you’re still a—’
‘Would that bother you?’ she asked, her voice quavering just a little.
‘Of course not!’
And she knew he was telling the truth; knew by his expression of dawning wonder, and by the gentleness of his touch, as he placed a cool palm against her heated cheek.
‘You’re something else, Stephanie Redford,’ he said quietly. ‘Did I tell you just how much I love you?’
‘Yes, you did.’ The stars in her eyes almost blinded him with their brilliance as she smiled up at him through her tears. ‘But you can tell me again if you like!’
So he did.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6358-1
A MIRACLE FOR CHRISTMAS
First North American Publication 1998.
Copyright © 1997 by Grace Green.
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