"Would you like some coffee?" she asked in her polite hostess manner.
"That sounds great. Do you have any Kahlua?"
She had started for the kitchen and stopped at his question. "I think so."
"Good. Some of that in the coffee would help to warm us up." The half smile he gave her was well remembered, and she moved away from him and his attractiveness. As she prepared the coffee she hoped Rafe hadn't seen her pain.
By the time she returned to the living room, Rafe had a blazing fire going, had pulled one of the pillows off the couch onto the floor, and lay propped up on the rug before the fire. Tasha was stretched out beside him, still purring. He stood up when she entered the room and took the tray she carried. Ashley had sliced some banana nut bread left over from a weekend spree of baking. He smiled, but made no comment.
"The fire feels good from here. Why don't you join me?" he asked as he settled on the rug and patted the place beside him.
"I think I'd like to change into something more comfortable first." She indicated her suit. Ashley had never seen Rafe in winter clothes and her eyes lingered on the woolen pullover sweater he wore.
Several pieces of the bread were missing when Ashley returned. Since her waistline had begun to spread she'd been forced to purchase some elastic-waisted woolen slacks. Her matching sweater fell in loose folds around her middle, making an effective camouflage.
"Thank you for the ride home," she said matter-of-factly. "I wasn't looking forward to the walk." She sat down beside him and poured herself a cup of coffee. Taking Rafe's advice, she measured a small amount of Kahlua into the steaming cup. She took a small sip and smiled. He was right—it was delicious.
"How did you get to work this morning? Did you ride the bus?" He sounded genuinely interested.
"No, I walked. It really isn't too far if I cut through a couple of parks." They both looked at the flames as though wary of facing each other. They sat there in silence, sipping their coffee, aware of the unmistakable vibrations that occurred whenever they were in the same room. She wondered whether he felt them as strongly as she did.
Rafe turned around to pour himself another cup. "Thank you for allowing me back in the house. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd thrown a rock and chased me away."
A dart of pain ran through her. "Rafe, don't." Her hand darted out, paused, then touched his. "There's no need for recriminations, you know. Believe me, I understand."
"I'm glad you do," he responded with bitterness, "because I left here wondering if I was going out of my mind. It has taken me this long to come to grips with my feelings." He settled back on the rug and faced her. "What I said to you that day was the truth as I saw it then."
"I know. I accepted it then and I have no reason not to accept it now." She sounded calm because that was the way she felt. She loved this man, the father of the child she was carrying, the lover she'd never dreamed existed before the past summer. Whatever his decision for them, she would accept it.
Rafe made an impatient gesture, running his hand through his hair. "I've tried to understand and, although it's no excuse, I recognize that I'd been pushing myself hard for several months." His smile flashed for a moment, then disappeared. "I was putting in very long hours in order to be able to return to Oregon. Even when I wasn't working, I couldn't sleep for thinking about you, wanting you."
Ashley could feel the pain awakening within her, and she felt she had to get him to stop. She couldn't bear hearing that. "Please, Rafe—"
His hand reached out and touched one of the curls lying on her shoulder. He picked it up as though measuring its weight, bounced it in his hand, then moved on to touch her shoulder.
She became very still at his touch, afraid that if she moved she'd throw herself into his arms. His nearness had started up all the old sensations once more. He had always affected her that way—she had no reason to believe it would ever change.
She started to remove his hand from her shoulder, when he suddenly grabbed her hand and carried it to his lips. He placed light, gentle kisses at the base of each finger, the thumb, and in the palm itself. He carefully folded her fingers over and placed her hand on the rug between them.
She turned her head away from the hypnotic flickering of the flames and watched as shadows danced across his face. Some of his color had faded, as though he'd spent the last months indoors.
"I knew I had to come and talk to you, share with you some of what I've discovered about myself these last few weeks."
"I'm glad."
"You don't even know what I have to say," he said with a hint of confusion.
"That's true. I'm just glad that, whatever you have to say, you feel able to share it with me. I would like to think we might continue the friendship we began."
Pain shot across his face for a moment, then was gone. "I'm not surprised you feel that way, Ashley. As a husband and a lover I might manage to make a halfway decent friend."
"That isn't what I meant, Rafe, and you know it." She reached for his hand. "There's no reason for you to try to shoulder all the blame for the failure of our marriage. I'm willing to accept my part of it. Why should you feel guilty because it didn't work out?"
Rafe sat there watching her as the flames from the fireplace cast a gentle glow over her cheeks. She seemed so serene, somehow. Less tense, more content with her life. He had no reason to suppose she'd want him to step back into her life, but he had to find out. He couldn't continue wondering whether they might have had a chance together. "I wanted to talk to you tonight, Ashley, not about any mistake we made by getting married, but about my mistake in walking out."
Had she heard him right? What was he saying?
"I don't want to be just a friend of yours. I want to live here with you and love you, take care of you. I don't ever want to be separated from you again."
Her heart was hammering so loudly she was certain Rafe must hear it. How many nights had she dreamed that he had returned and was telling her just what she was hearing now? Surely she wasn't dreaming once, again!
"But, Rafe, I'm still a lawyer. I can't change that, as much as I might want to try."
"I know that!" He started to reach for her, then stopped. "I discovered that we don't choose the person we fall in love with. We may think we do. We may think we know why we fell in love with that particular person. We can find all sorts of reasons to explain it." He raised her hand to his mouth and placed a feather kiss on her knuckles. "I had to face the fact that love wasn't something I could order about. When I fell in love with you, I didn't fall in love with just the indignant lady I first met or the passionate woman I came to know. I fell for the total person, everything that makes you what you are, and that includes your training and skill as a lawyer."
He stopped speaking, watching her face as she listened to him. Then he went on. "I can't sit here and apologize for what I said, because I meant it when I said it. I'm apologizing for being the kind of person who could set himself up to judge your behavior, to decide what kind of person you should be." He turned back to the fire. "I began to realize what kind of person I was and despised myself. I'll understand if you despise me as well."
"That isn't true, Rafe." She reached out and rested her hand on his sweater. She could feel his heart thudding.
"You threw all your time and energy into saving Raul's business while I stood on the sidelines condemning your methods." Ashley noted a roughness in his voice and glanced up in time to see a sheen of moisture in his eyes. She could feel his chest rise as he took a deep breath. "You gave me everything you had to give—your friendship, your love, your passion— and I threw it all back in your face and demanded more." The pain he felt broke through in his voice, and she could no longer stay silent.
"Rafe, we may not have any control over whom we love, but we can choose how we allow that love to affect us. I never wanted my love for you to form a cage to hold you against your will."
Tentatively Rafe placed his arm around Ashley's shoulders and pulled her a
gainst him. It felt so good to be close to him again. He kissed her just under her ear and muttered, "All I ever want is to be able to find myself snug within the confines of your love. That isn't a cage, dear heart; that would be heaven."
She turned her lips to his and gave him the answer he was almost afraid to expect. Finally, she pulled back and said, "I love you, Rafe. There's nothing you can do to stop me from loving you."
A shudder went through him and his arms tightened around her as he began to kiss her again. She pulled away once more, breathless, and laughed. "If you don't stop hugging me quite so fiercely, your son or daughter is going to punch you." Her face radiated the love she felt for him.
Rafe sat up, his face reflecting the emotions hitting him as her statement registered.
"Ashley?" He pushed her away and looked down at her body. His hand moved from her back to her stomach, where it rested on the slight protuberance. "You're pregnant," he announced in cautious tones.
"The doctor assures me that's the correct term for my condition."
"But, Ashley, why didn't you mention it? When did you— How—"
"Don't you dare ask me how it happened, or I'll show you just what kind of temper your wife has." Her glare didn't seem to intimidate him.
"When will it be here?"
"The doctor thinks the early part of May, from my rather vague information." She enjoyed watching his face, attempting to identify the emotions reflected there. A hint of concern, perhaps a touch of worry, then a flash of pride. Her smile faded as she saw the beginning of a frown.
"Why wasn't I told?" he demanded. Who said he wasn't arrogant? She supposed that arrogance was part of his makeup. If he could accept her choice of profession, she would overlook his overbearing ways —within reason, of course.
"I'm telling you now, Rafe." No tone of voice could have been more reasonable. His frown remained.
"That's because I came to you. When did you intend to tell me?" His accusation hung between them. She knew she'd better plead her case better than she'd ever done in a courtroom, or his resentment of the delay would remain between them. Before she could say any more, he got up from the rug and pulled her with gentle pressure toward him. "You shouldn't be sitting on the cold floor," he scolded as he sat down on the couch and pulled her onto his lap. Since she quite enjoyed that position, she didn't complain.
"Rafe, love, I'm going to have a baby. That doesn't call for treating me like an invalid."
She watched as a tide of red moved across his cheeks. "I know, but neither one of us needs a cold. The floor's drafty."
"Of course." She hid her smile.
His face stern, his eyes serious, he repeated his question with a precision of speech that hinted at his suppressed emotions. "When did you intend to tell me?"
"I'm not sure. When I was more ready than I've felt up until now, I guess." He pulled her to him and began to kiss her along her cheekbone; then he pressed his lips to hers in a brief and wordless apology.
"Oh, Rafe." She put her arms around him. "I love you so."
"I have to expect a few unexplained quirks in your personality, I suppose. Besides, it's very comforting for me to know that." He leaned over and began to kiss her again. Between short kisses, he admitted, "Because—I don't know—what I'd do—if you didn't."
He picked her up and carried her down the hallway. The bedroom lamp was lit, casting a halo around the table on which it sat. He let her slide down his aroused body.
"Did you ask the doctor if I could make love to you?" He seemed to be having trouble with his breathing. Maybe he'd noticed the weight she had gained recently.
"No, because it didn't seem much of a possibility when I last saw him."
She watched Rafe mask his disappointment as he smiled and, in an offhand manner, suggested, "Well, I think I'll hop into the shower. I may be a while, you just go ahead and get some rest. I won't disturb you when I come to bed." Ashley was impressed with his ability to appear nonchalant.
"Of course, the doctor didn't have to tell me anything. He gave me some books to read." She indicated the two on her nightstand. "They say that at this stage it's safe for me to enjoy my marital relationship." Her eyes danced with mischief as she smiled up at him.
Rafe stood drinking in the expression on her face. Never had she seemed more beautiful. He loved her so much that he didn't know how to deal with it. He was afraid he would hurt her, he'd been without her for so long. He remembered those long, restless nights when his need for a woman had kept him awake. But he had known that it wasn't a need for just any woman, and he hadn't found the courage to face Ashley.
Ashley began to disrobe, and Rafe could see the beginning of a slight curve in her stomach. His baby. They'd never even discussed having children.
"Ashley?"
She pulled a heavy flannel gown over her head and looked at him. "Yes?" She looked like a little girl, with ruffles around her neck and wrists and pink toes showing their tips under the ruffled hem.
"How do you feel about having a baby?"
Her radiant smile appeared once more. "I can hardly wait. I'll admit it was a bit of a shock at first, but I was excited even then."
"When did you find out?" He wished he'd been with her each day, every day, to watch her body change as his child grew within her.
"A few days before Raul's hearing." She hopped into bed, and set the dial of the electric blanket. "I forgot to ask you—do you sleep with an electric blanket?"
He paused, trying to adjust to the change in subject. "No, why?"
"Because I do, but there are dual controls, so you won't need to turn your side on."
"I suppose you think I'm going to sleep on one side of the bed and you'll be on the other?" He stood there with his hands on his hips, his snug pants leaving no doubt as to his condition.
"Well, maybe I won't need it tonight," she admitted a little breathlessly.
He rid himself of his clothes and crawled into bed beside her, managing to have most of her body touching him. He radiated enough heat for both of them, he knew. Returning to the previous subject, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me when I called?"
"I might have, if you hadn't told me you were coming up the next night. That's when I decided I should wait and tell you in person."
His hand slid down her leg until he found the ruffled hem, then it began the return journey against her bare skin until it came to rest at the top of her thigh.
"You didn't mention it the night I flew in," he reminded her.
Ashley's mind was not on the conversation. How could she possibly concentrate when his hand kept feathering across her abdomen and thigh. Just as she expected it to move closer to her inner thigh he would pause, then repeat his pattern.
She began to kiss him, trying to gain his entire attention. She knew she had succeeded when he took over the kiss. His tongue searched out all the hidden places within her mouth.
Ashley moaned. It had been so long. She didn't know how she'd managed to survive without his lovemaking.
When the kiss ended, Ashley was gasping for breath. Rafe continued the conversation as though nothing had interrupted them, as though his hand was not driving her crazy with its darting pattern of teasing maneuvers. "Why didn't you tell me when I flew up here?"
"Tell you what?" She'd forgotten what they had been talking about. She was too involved in relearning his body through the sensitive tips of her fingers. He'd lost weight. His body felt stripped of all surplus flesh—long, lean, and hungry. She could certainly identify with the hunger!
"That you were pregnant."
"Oh, Rafe." It took her a minute to try to think. That unbelievable feeling that Rafe managed to create in her was beginning its pulsating rhythm. His fingers had finally arrived at their destination and her hips arched with the rhythm of his touch. "I didn't tell you because we didn't do much talking that night." And we're doing too much talking tonight! "Love me, Rafe, please," she begged.
"I do, honey, indeed I do." She could hear the a
musement in his voice. He had teased them both long enough. There would be plenty of time to catch up on the weeks they'd been apart. He recognized that there were a few things a person couldn't catch up on, but he certainly intended to do his best!
He pulled her gown up until she helped him to remove it. She no longer needed the gown to stay warm. Without the restriction of cloth between them, Rafe had unlimited freedom to love her body. He proceeded to show Ashley that she only thought she knew what lovemaking meant. He used his hands to touch her in ways she'd forgotten or never known. He used his tongue to trace the line of her breast, then to caress her until she thought she'd scream with the effort it took to hang on to her self-control. He used his mouth to chart each inch of her skin so that she was left quivering in his arms. He ran his hand reverently over the swelling that foretold the existence of their child, thankful she was the vessel he'd found to nurture his baby. Then he moved, poising himself over her, and gently eased himself to join her.
Rafe made the act of love more than bodies finding gratification. Their coming together became an act of healing. For the first time in their stormy relationship they were in complete harmony with each other. They could sense the other's need and fulfill it without verbal communication. They expressed their commitment and desire to spend the rest of their days and nights together, and as Ashley drifted into a fulfilled, satisfying sleep she remembered that they'd never discussed his career or hers, or where they might live and how.
For the first time in their relationship each acknowledged that those issues were unimportant compared with the one crucial fact—they belonged together. Everything else could be worked out.
Chapter Eleven
The smell of coffee wafted into Ashley's consciousness, and she tried to shake the sleep from her brain. She was tired, and her body felt like a football field that had been used for heavy scrimmages.
She managed to open her eyes partway and squinted to see the clock. Her bedside table was gone. In its place sat a French provincial table holding a lamp with a ruffled shade. This was not her bedroom. She shifted gingerly in the bed and spied Rafe as he stood by the window. The morning sun slanted through the blinds.
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