“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Ford said, gently nudging her foot. “You already had a nap today.”
“Oh, but this is absolutely wonderful.” She blinked her heavy eyes open, and gave him a drowsy smile. “If I would have known what you had planned, I would have saved my nap for now.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my time with you, and as beautiful as you look sleeping, I’d like to enjoy this outing with you awake.”
He thought her beautiful in her pregnant condition; her heart beat a little faster. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. McCabe,” she teased.
He winked at her. “I sure do hope so.”
Resting her hands over her belly, she regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, the movement as fluid as his strokes with the oars. “I like to see you happy.”
“I am,” she said, hearing the slight reservation in her voice.
He caught it, too, and prompted, “Except for?”
“My father’s stubbornness, of course,” she said, disgust lacing her voice. She was beyond hoping he’d come around, not when he hadn’t made the slightest effort to breach the ever-widening chasm between them. In his eyes, she’d done the unforgivable when she’d married Ford, regardless of the fact that she was offering him a rare gift in the child she carried.
“I just hate the thought of him not being a part of his grandchild’s life,” she said, absently stroking the slight swell of her belly. “He knows how much this baby means to me since I didn’t think I’d ever have children of my own.”
“But it’s my child, too,” Ford said, his simple statement holding a wealth of meaning.
“That shouldn’t matter,” she argued, frustrated with her father’s inability to get past his grudge with Ford, which would only hurt their child in the future.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Ford’s quietly spoken words impacted her deeply, forcing her to realize how much this child mattered to the man she’d married, as did her opinion of him being the father of the baby.
She swallowed back the emotions rising in her throat. “Ford . . . I know we married for the sake of this baby, and as shocked as I was to discover I was pregnant, I don’t regret anything.”
He gave her a lop-sided grin that produced a dimple in his cheek. “Not even me forcing you to marry me?”
“I understand your reasons,” she said with quiet honesty. “You didn’t want your child to grow up illegitimate and quite frankly, neither do I.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s one reason.”
His words implied there was more, prompting her curiosity. “And the other reason?”
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze a warm, vivid shade of violet. “If you haven’t figured that out yet, you will in time.”
His vague, cryptic words settled over her, confusing her mind. He’d never said he loved her, hadn’t even insinuated that his feelings for her might extend beyond the friendship and caring they’d developed since they’d gotten married. She wondered if he was possibly as uncertain and wary as she was of revealing his emotions. There was something extremely vulnerable about being in love and not knowing how the other person felt.
“So, why did you marry David?” he asked, changing the subject to one as equally unsettling as the thoughts he’d interrupted.
The most logical answer to Ford’s question would be because she’d loved David, but that hadn’t been the case for her. She could fabricate all kinds of believable excuses, but she and Ford had come a long way in trusting one another since they’d married, and she wanted to keep that honesty secure.
She met Ford’s gaze, who was waiting for her reply. “I married David to save my reputation. He married me because he’d always been infatuated with me.” The smile she summoned felt forced on her own lips. “Not a great basis for a marriage.”
He continued to row, long, lazy strokes that belied the intent look that leapt into his gaze. “What do you mean, to save your reputation?”
She glanced out the side of the boat to dry land, recognizing the scenery and guessing they were a good mile and a half away from her cottage. She felt as though they were in another country altogether.
“After you left, rumor of my involvement with you spread.” Catching the frown that formed on his brow, she explained, “Someone must have seen us together, and guessed at our relationship. Since my virtue was in question, my father pushed for marriage between David and me. My father was determined to salvage the family name, and my reputation, so when David proposed, I accepted.” As always, she’d done the right thing, showing her father that she was a “good girl”.
A large tree shaded them, and Ford stopped rowing the oars, letting the boat glide lazily on the surface of the glossy water. “Did you love David?”
Not like the way I loved you. “I cared for him,” she admitted. “But we married for all the wrong reasons, and when I couldn’t get pregnant, that just put an additional strain on our relationship. After five years of trying to make the marriage work, we finally divorced. According to David’s mother, he’s doing well in Norfolk with his new family, so I’m happy for him.”
Ford nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She smiled, feeling close to Ford, and emotionally connected. “It all worked out for the best.”
“Yeah, I suppose it did,” he agreed, putting his own spin on her words. With a reciprocating smile, he stretched the muscles that had tightened from his sitting position. “If you expect me to row all the way back to the cottage, you’d better feed me and give me the strength.”
Rolling her eyes at that, she sat up on her knees and reached for the sack of goodies they’d brought along. The boat rocked gently, but Ford’s widespread feet and solid body kept her from swaying off balance.
“Easy does it,” he murmured humorously. “Or else we’ll be taking a swim.”
Crossing her legs in front of Ford, she spread their light fare on napkins on the blanket. She placed a slice of cheese on a cracker and lifted it to his lips. He accepted the snack while she opened a bottle of apple juice to share. Then she opened the container of sliced apples, took out a wedge, and offered it to Ford.
“Mmm, apples,” he said, seemingly relishing the juicy slice she’d slipped into his mouth. “Do you know what apples remind me of?”
Oh, she knew exactly what the crisp, tart fruit reminded him of, because it reminded her, too. “What?” she asked, not wanting to be the one to bring up such a sensual memory.
His gaze glowed warmly with the recollection. “It reminds me of the day you’d stopped by my house to bring me the fresh apple pie you’d baked just for me, along with two roast beef sandwiches you’d made from your family’s previous night’s left overs.”
She nodded, remembering painfully well the way he’d accepted the meal graciously, his hunger pangs obviously winning over pride. His own mother hadn’t bothered to shop for groceries or give him money for food—she’d spent her paychecks at After Hours after working her shift as a cocktail waitress, forgetting that she had a son starving at home.
“You found me out in that dilapidated old barn behind the house, trying to chop the beams into pieces of wood to use in the fireplace so I’d have a little warmth at night.” He ate another slice of apple, savoring the taste on his tongue. “I hadn’t eaten anything substantial in two days and was so hungry, not that you could have known. I ate those sandwiches and half of that pie so fast that it nearly gave me a belly ache.”
She laughed at the pained look on his face, and waggled a finger at him. “I warned you to slow down.”
He caught the offending digit, and held her hand. Bringing her fingers to his mouth, he kissed the tips of each. A soft breath exhaled out of her, and she melted inside.
“I thought you were an angel for bringing me that food,” he said, his voice low and husky. “All I meant to do was give you a so
ft kiss of thanks, but you tasted even sweeter than that apple pie, and when your lips parted on a soft sigh, I couldn’t resist . . .”
A shudder of yearning rippled through her, making her breasts swell and her body ache. That had been the first time they’d made love, and the event had been sensual, and tender, and so very poignant. It had been pure magic.
As if feeling that same undercurrent of need that tugged at her, he released her hand, severing the contact between them. “It’s getting late,” he said, gathering up the remnants of their snack. “We should head back to the cottage before it gets dark.”
Within a few minutes, she was reclining against the hull again as they headed back to her place. Not wanting to dwell on what had just transpired between them, she reached her arm over the side of the boat, trailed her fingers in the cool water, and enjoyed the symmetry of Ford’s strokes, and the oars sluicing through the lake.
The easy ride back to Ford’s house on the horses was pleasant and companionable, and when they reached the corral, he dismounted first, then came around for her. He grasped her around her thickening waist with strong hands, she rested her palms on his shoulders, and what should have been a quick help down from Sophie changed the moment Ford lifted her. Her body slid down the length of his, and he did nothing to stop the tantalizing friction. Awareness crackled between them, and his eyes darkened to velvet.
Her fingers curled around the nape of his neck, threading through the warm strands of his hair. “I had a wonderful time today,” she said, trying to still her racing pulse, trying harder to stop the heat spreading like wildfire in her veins.
He kept her hips pressed against his with the slow slide of his hands around her waist. “Yeah, me too.”
They tilted their heads at the same exact moment, she lifting up on tip-toe and him dipping low. Their breaths mingled, coalesced . . . became one. Soft, breathless moans of pleasure rumbled between them. The kiss they shared was a joint effort, meeting halfway, both of them instigating a deeper union with the touch of their tongues.
The rolling sensation in the pit of Grace’s belly startled her, and she jerked back, eyes wide. “Ohh,” she said, splaying a hand low on her abdomen, where she’d felt the movement.
“What’s wrong?” Worry roughened Ford’s tone.
“I think it’s the baby moving.” She looked up at Ford in wonder. “It felt it earlier today, but wasn’t sure. This time, I’m certain that’s what the fluttering sensation was.”
Without asking, he pressed his large palm to her stomach, his expression anxious and excited, but the moment had passed, and the baby wasn’t cooperating on demand. He looked so disappointed, she couldn’t help but smile and reassure him.
“It’ll happen again,” she said, too aware of his fingers gently probing her tummy.
He looked discontent, as if he’d been deprived of some great mystery. “Grace . . .” He cut himself off indecisively, and thrust his fingers through his hair.
She couldn’t imagine what had him so frazzled. “Ford, what is it?”
He frowned at her, then finally said, “I want you to share my bed.”
Startled by his direct demand, she took a step back, bumping into Sophie, who shifted away with a soft snort of indignation. As much as she wanted to experience the pleasure and closeness of making love with Ford again, Grace knew she couldn’t give him her body, without giving him her heart, too. And she wouldn’t do that until she had his in return.
Refusing him was more difficult than she imagined. “Ford, I know our relationship is changing, and we’ve grown closer the past few months, but I think it’s best if we remain in separate beds for now.” Until you tell me you love me.
He shook his head. “I’m not trying to proposition you,” he said, a wry grin canting his mouth. “I want you to share my bed so I can share in the experience of you being pregnant with my baby. I find everything about you being pregnant fascinating, and it’s hardly fair that you get to experience everything, and I can only imagine what it’s like.”
Humor bubbled within her. “I’m afraid ‘imagining’ is all you’ll be able to do.”
“I want to be a part of this pregnancy,” he clarified. “I want to feel those first movements, I want to see the daily changes in your body, and I want to talk to my daughter as she grows.”
“Daughter?” she repeated softly, completely beguiled by his request.
He gave a nonchalant shrug and dragged his thumb along her cheek. “I can’t help it if I’d like a little girl, just as beautiful as her mother.”
A huge lump formed in her throat, and her heart swelled with a multitude of emotion.
He wound a finger around a silky strand of blonde hair, captivating her in more ways than one. “Will you move into my bedroom?”
His sweet request was more than she could resist. He wasn’t demanding this time, but asking. And more than anything, she wanted to share this experience with someone else, too—and who better than her husband?
“I’ll be there tonight,” she promised.
Grace felt as a shy and modest as a bride on her wedding night, which was ridiculous, she chastised her reflection in Ford’s master bathroom mirror. She and Ford weren’t going to make love—he only wanted to be close to the child she carried, something she could hardly fault.
Suppressing the jumble of nerves swarming in her belly, she tied the ribbon that held the bodice of her gown together just above her breasts. The pale pink nightgown she’d bought a few days ago flowed in a billow of cotton to her knees, where it ended with a ruffled hem. The design wasn’t very flattering to her figure, leaving plenty of room for her soon-to-be burgeoning tummy. She’d selected the gown for comfort, and because the buttons down the front would allow her to use the nightie to breast feed the baby after it was born.
She dragged a brush through her unbound hair, wishing she had something prettier and sexier to wear, then immediately shook that notion from her head. The purpose of her moving into Ford’s bedroom wasn’t to seduce her husband, but to give him time to bond with his baby. She could do that just as easily, and possibly more effectively, if she was wearing something unappealing.
She heard his footsteps in the adjoining master bedroom, and her heart beat faster. She spent another ten minutes making sure she’d smoothed every tangle from her hair, brushed her teeth until they were so cleaned they squeaked, and fussed with her unattractive gown. With no more excuses left to postpone what she’d agreed to, she drew a steady breath and stepped inside Ford’s bedroom.
He was half undressed, wearing only a warm, sensual smile and a pair of jeans, the first button of which was unsnapped. His shirt was gone, and so were his boots and socks. Looking away from the arousing sight of his bare chest, she headed toward the four poster bed and pulled down the spread and covers.
“Did you get everything moved over okay?” he asked from behind her.
“Yes.” She plumped the pillows unnecessarily, keeping her gaze on the task. “Your walk-in closet is huge.”
“When I designed the house, I did so in hopes that I’d be sharing that closet with someone.” The sound of a zipper lowering rasped in the room, then the rustle of material sliding off as he shucked his jeans.
Grace snuck a peek across the expanse of the king-sized bed, relieved to find Ford wearing a pair of white briefs. Though the snug underwear left little to her imagination, it was a barrier she appreciated to keep temptation at bay.
Sliding into her side of the bed, she arranged the covers up under her arms. “I took the two empty drawers in the armoire for my lingerie,” she said, trying to keep the conversation casual during what felt like such an intimate moment.
“That’s fine.” He joined her in the big bed, leaving the lamp on to illuminate the room. Propping himself up on his elbow, he let the sheet and blanket drape around his hips. “If you need more room, let me know.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
He smiled back, a lazy lifting of his lips, and croo
ked his finger at her. “Come closer, Grace,” he said, amusement in his tone. “You’re so close to the edge I’m afraid you’re gonna fall off the mattress.”
“I’m fine, really,” she insisted lightly.
“I don’t bite,” he promised, laughter glimmering in his eyes. “But I do want to touch you, like we agreed. And I can’t do that if there’s a yard of space between us.”
She could hardly argue with his logic, but couldn’t stem her own timidity. “This is awkward,” she said, scooting closer.
He inched over, too, meeting her halfway, until she lay right next to him and she could feel the heat of his body pressed against her side. In the process, he’d managed to slide the covers down to their knees.
“It shouldn’t be.” He looked down at her, his expression gentle. “You’re my wife, and not only that, I’ve seen you naked before.”
She gulped. He planned to see her naked? She was prepared for those hands of his to touch her, but she’d thought she’d have the protection of her gown, a layer of defense between her body and his exploring fingers and heated gaze.
He reached out and touched the ribbon that tied the bow at the bodice of her gown. She grasped his wrist before he could tug on the thin strip of satin, and he immediately stilled.
Their gazes met, his filled with patience and admirable self-control. “I want to see the changes in your body. Will you let me?”
Insecurities swamped her. She wasn’t very big yet, but even she’d noticed new lush curves to her once slender body. Though she scrutinized her blossoming figure from a maternal view point, and reveled in the miraculous changes, she wasn’t sure how Ford would view the transformation from slim and svelte to plump and rounded.
He seemed to understand. “If I do anything you don’t like, just tell me to stop and I will.”
Ultimately, she knew he’d keep his word. She just wasn’t sure she trusted herself when Ford’s mere gaze had the ability to unravel her. How would she survive his caresses?
The Millionaire's Proposal Page 12
