by Diana Palmer
And then he entered her, slowly, acquainting her body with him. A new level of celebration began as they joined. Flung into a new, heady level, Kass sat up, hands against his chest, moving in rhythm with him, their breath ragged, their hearts thundering with adoration for one another, culminating in another orgasm and his climax.
Later, she snuggled against him, her brow against his sandpapery jaw, strong, caring arms around her, roughened fingertips stroking her spine, caressing her hips in the aftermath. Even now, her lower body was contracting with memory, and the wavelike effects of the heat continued to flow outward, unabated. The man clearly knew how to love a woman fully and completely.
As she barely forced open her eyelids, the light had changed in the room, early dusk filling it. A sigh of contentment filled her as he continued to stroke her back, worshipping her with small kisses along her hairline, caressing her, letting her know in the warming silence settling around them as they lay together that he loved her more than anything else in his world.
And she loved him.
That was the last barely coherent thought that Kass had because she drifted off into a galaxy of sunlight warming her, rainbows before her closed eyes and the thudding of his heart beneath her palm where it lay upon his chest. Her own heart was thudding in unison with his. They were still one with one another, and she absorbed the moment as never before. One with each other. Finally . . . finally . . .
Chapter Ten
“For the longest time, Kass, I thought I couldn’t dream of ever having you like this: in my arms, in bed together, talking . . . loving one another . . .” Travis had fallen asleep after they’d made love the first time. Kass had nuzzled her way beside him, sleeping deeply with him. They’d awakened, almost on cue, sensing one another in the way only lovers could do, and made love once more around three a.m. They had fallen, exhausted, into one another’s arms afterward, as if trying to make up for all the lost time they had been separated from one another.
The first hint of dawn surrounded them through the two windows, and that was when he’d awakened. Kass slept innocently in his arms, her black hair a shining cloak spread across his shoulder and part of his chest as she remained pressed up against the length of his body. He’d lain there for a good fifteen minutes, watching her sleep, feeling the soft rise and fall of her breasts, the limpness of her arm around his waist. And she’d just drowsily come awake on her own, as if sensing once more her mate was awake and ready to meet the new day.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, her voice scratchy with sleep. Moving her fingers slowly up across his chest from his waist, she tangled them in the silky dark hair across it.
“Maybe we’re both in the same dream?” He tried to make light of it. Her thick black lashes lifted up to reveal not only sleep-filled eyes but a deep lover’s warmth for him alone.
“No . . . you have to believe that dreams do come true, Travis Grant. We’re proof of that. Don’t you think?”
A slow grin of acknowledgment tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sliding his fingers through her unruly hair, he watched the low light bring out the bluish highlights in some of the strands. “Proof is in the pudding, Ms. Murphy.” Kass smiled then, a drowsy, fulfilled smile that made his heart soar with joy. More than anything, Travis wanted to please this woman who had artlessly loved for so long and without any expectation of ever coming together with him.
She rubbed her hips against his. “Sure is, cowboy, sure is.”
Already, despite two times last night, he would want her again sooner, not later. He cupped her flushed cheek, drowning in the warm look in her green eyes for him alone. “I have an idea. How about we get up, take a nice hot shower together, fool around, and then I’ll make us breakfast? I know you have your manager opening up the café, so you don’t have to be there at the crack of dawn. You can spend some time with me.”
Her lips curved. “Yes, she’ll open the café. And you’re right, I’m starving to death, Travis.”
“Oh? For me or for food?”
She laughed and eased up into a sitting position, sliding her fingers through her hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. “Oh, you are not only food for my soul but food for my heart, and don’t you ever forget that.”
He liked the rich purr in her husky voice. “Do I get to wake up like this with you from now on?”
She pulled her knees up toward her body, wrapping her arms around them, giving him an amused look. “Yes, always. Tell me something. Did you have any bad dreams last night?”
“I didn’t sleep enough to get any, Ms. Murphy.”
Trying not to laugh out loud, Kass struggled to maintain her serious demeanor. “Did you have any nightmares?”
“Nope.” He reached over, caressing her arm. “None.”
“Any flashbacks?”
“Not one.”
“See? I’m good for you, Travis Grant. Whether you think so or not. When I’m around? You’re fine.”
He became more somber, sliding his fingers down her leg covered by the blankets, coming to rest over her foot. “That’s true. The five days you were at my cabin, just a room away from me, I stopped having them. I slept the best I’ve ever slept since coming home a year ago. It was only later that I realized it was because you were in the vicinity, Kass.” He held her tender gaze. “It’s you. All you. There’s something I can’t explain that goes on when you’re near me. You’re pure magic.”
“Love is like that,” she whispered. “Love heals, Travis. I know it does. Jade and Marshall Murphy took me in as a tiny baby and I’m sure I was feeling horribly abandoned, although I have no memory of it. But their love put me back together again, gave me a reason to fight to survive, to live and learn to love myself. The biggest gift they gave me was not feeling as if I’d done something wrong and deserved to be abandoned. I carried such guilt about it in my early teens.”
“Yes, they loved you more than life. They were a childless couple, from what my parents said, and they desperately wanted a baby. And there you were.”
“But it was more than that,” Kass murmured, lying down, facing him, her hand on her head, propped up. “Growing up, they didn’t tell me I was adopted. It hit me hard when they did, but I remember my mom and dad surrounding me with love after they sat me down. And it wasn’t always about a hug or a kiss. They know how to love someone else. So many little things . . . well . . . like what you just did for me this morning is a good example of that in action.”
“How so?” Travis asked, caressing her cheek, watching that lambent need for him leap to her eyes.
“You made me that Windsor rocker. How many guys would do that for a woman? It showed your love for me. It showed me you not only listened to what I told you but you did something about it. You understood just how important, how symbolic, that rocker is to me. I know not every man is a master carpenter like you are, Travis, but you understand my gist?”
He brought several strands of her hair over her shoulder, watching them catch the dawn light. “Yes, I get it. And look what you did for me. You saw that ratty, old, worn scarf I wore when I had to go outside to bring more wood in for the fire, and you knitted me a new one. Not only that, you used the same color because you knew I liked blue and you wanted to please me.”
“I like doing little everyday things for you, Travis. I’m going to spoil you rotten.” She sizzled beneath that hungry look he gave her. “So, do we need to talk about where we’re going to live together? And telling our parents about us and our plans?”
“It’s on the schedule,” he said. “Where do you want to live, Kass?”
She shrugged. “I loved your cabin. I love that you have two horses we can ride on that five acres. And there’s so many trails in that immediate area that we can go on when the snow finally leaves.”
“I live about twenty miles south of town, though.”
“I can drive it daily. That doesn’t bother me.”
“But if you had your choice?”
She sat up and leaned over, kissing him tenderly. Moving inches away, she whispered, “You need your cabin right now, Travis. It gives you a sense of being a womb, it gives you a sense of safety, and that’s vital. You’re still healing daily from combat. You’re comfortable there, and that wood studio isn’t something you could replicate here in my little house anyway. I just don’t have the room or acreage to build something like that next to this house. You have two horses to care for, too.”
“But do you like living there?”
She sat up, the blankets falling around her waist. “Of course I do. I love your horses, too. And I’d love to get us a dog and maybe some cats, too, after we move my things to your cabin. It’s a beautiful little place, and it’s fine for us right now.”
“Until,” he said, reaching out, capturing her hand, “you get pregnant and the first child is on the way. What then?”
Kass hesitated, the silence stretching between them. “Are you serious about that, Travis? About me having a baby? It will change our lives forever.”
“I think if we have a year of being together, I’ll know a lot more about my PTSD and how it’s acting. I don’t want to bring a baby into the world if I can’t be a partner and be a true father.”
“I think that’s a smart plan. It also gives us time to reacquaint with one another and get used to living under the same roof.” She grinned. “I’m going to love that!”
* * *
December 31
Kass wanted their New Year’s Eve meal to be perfect. She’d taken a week off, leaving her manager in charge of the café, and worked hard to make their cabin homey as never before. Because she was an avid seamstress, she’d found some heavy winter fabric of a lighter lavender color for their bedroom windows, instead of the darker burgundy which kept the room gloomy in her opinion. She’d pulled Travis into looking at it, talking about his favorite colors, and this was one of them. Getting them made up and hung brought a new level of coziness and lightness to that room.
She created new kitchen curtains, taking the drab-looking tan-colored ones down. Now they were a festive pale yellow embroidered with spring flowers and frilly feminine ruffles. Winters were so long and hard in Wyoming that she decided to create a tablecloth of the same fabric as well, to add color and life to those long, dreary winter nights. Spring always promised rebirth, and she liked that hopefulness. Travis liked the colors, too.
Her mother had knitted them a housewarming gift of a thick, soft multicolored afghan that could lie on the back of the long couch in the living room. The colors were the same as the flowers in the kitchen curtains.
Maud and Steve Whitcomb were thrilled that Travis and Kassie were finally together. Their housewarming gift was expensive but wonderful. They had gifted them with a 9 x 12 rug that had a flower meadow running through the rich green grass, the blue sky above it. Travis loved it and so did she. His parents had given them a snowmobile so that they could ride together and get out on winter days for some fresh air and sunshine, even when it was below freezing.
Sometimes during that week off from the café, so busy with making their cabin a real home for both of them, Kass would stop, shake herself, look around, and wonder if she was in some kind of beautiful, unending dream. It just seemed so natural for them to be together like this. Travis had not had one nightmare or flashback since she’d moved in with him. They made love nearly every night and sometimes during the day. It was as if they were trying to make up for lost years and being apart.
It was touching, and Kass often felt her heart break as Travis opened up a little more about his years in the Marine Corps. He wasn’t only behind enemy lines, he was out there alone, without backup, calling in air strikes on some of the most dangerous Taliban leaders in the country. If he’d ever have been caught, they’d have beheaded him. That always sent a shiver down her spine whenever she thought about what he’d told her. No wonder the man had PTSD.
For the last week, Travis had forbade her from coming into the wood studio. She loved going in there and watching him work, the long graceful strokes with a planing tool, smoothing and shaping wood that just seemed to surrender to his knowing hands and good heart. She was amazed and mesmerized how Zen-like he was when crafting furniture. It were as if he and the wood were one.
Once, she’d asked him if he’d ever had PTSD symptoms while woodworking, and he said no. Maybe that was a key. She had meditated since she was in her mid-teens, finding that it helped her stop being so antsy and restless and allowed her to settle into a calmer, more grounded state. At some point, she would approach Travis about trying meditation as a way to dial down his anxiety and other PTSD reactions. It was worth a try.
Hearing the door open, she looked up. Travis came in and shut the door. He was wearing the canvas apron he always wore when doing woodwork.
“Dinner is in two hours,” she said.
“I know. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” She saw the enigmatic expression on his face, and she wondered about it. Something was up, that was for sure.
“Can you come with me?” He held out his hand toward her.
Slipping her hand into his, she smiled. “What? Is my imprisonment over? Can I come out into your wood studio and visit you every now and then?” She saw his cheeks flush and he shrugged.
“We’ll see.” Opening the door for her, he led her out, shutting the door behind them.
“You’re acting awful mysterious, Grant. What’s up?”
“Oh . . . nothing . . . just something I want to show you, is all.”
He was such a master of understatement, she was finding out.
“Right,” she teased, walking with him to the studio door.
He turned. “Okay, you have to shut your eyes now. I’ll lead you in and I’ll tell you when to open them. Okay?”
“Okay, cowboy.” In his heart he was a wrangler, but his wonderful creativity as a master carpenter was also a part of him. She closed her eyes, trusting him fully as he led her into the warm, woodsy-smelling studio. Hearing the door shut, she waited patiently.
“Open your eyes, Kass.”
She did and gasped. There, just in front of her was a bog oak Windsor baby cradle. It was the same color of black wood that Travis had used for her rocker. “Oh, my God, Travis!”
“Do you like it? I got the drawing plans from a friend of mine in Pennsylvania.”
“Like it? I love it!” She moved forward, hands outstretched, touching the rounded top of one end of it. There were two simple curved upward rockers that the body sat on. The curved wood made the cradle look elegant in its simplicity. Travis went to the other side of it and crouched down. “This cradle has wood slats around all four sides. That way, there’s air movement and you or I can see our baby from any angle and see what she or he is doing.” He moved his hand on the gleaming ebony surface. “Here we can put in a small, flat but comfy mattress. You can then sit in your rocker, and with your toe on one of the rockers, our baby will fall asleep in no time.” He looked up, grinning. “What do you think?”
She crouched down opposite him, a hand on each end of the cradle. “I think it’s perfect, Travis. So this is what you were doing out here while telling me I wasn’t allowed to come in?” She saw him flush, that little-boy look cross his face.
“Yeah. I wanted it to be a New Year’s gift for you, Kass. It’s a new year and we’re with one another. I wanted something that would symbolize the future for us.”
Tears burned in her eyes as she slowly rose, releasing the cradle. Coming around one end, she threw her arms around him, pressing herself tightly against him, not caring if she got a little sawdust on her from his canvas apron. Travis wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair, her neck and shoulder.
“I love it,” she breathed brokenly, the tears winding down her cheeks. Looking up, she pulled back enough to meet his concerned blue gaze. “And I love you!” She pushed up on her toes, seeking and finding his mouth, closing her eyes and melting beneath the passion tha
t always simmered just below the surface of Travis.
As they separated, their breathing a little shallow and fast, he said, “There’s one more gift for you.” He opened his arms, caught her hand, and had her sit down on a flowery sofa he’d just finished for another order. She sat there, watching him remove the heavy canvas apron and lay it aside. Walking over to a set of eighteenth-century mahogany bedstands, she saw a small gold-wrapped gift sitting on one of them. Travis scooped it up, turned, and smiled as he approached her, holding it out in her direction.
“Here, this is for you . . . for us, Kass. Open it up.”
Travis sat down beside her, his arm around her shoulders as she shakily pulled the red ribbon from around the gold wrapping.
“What is this,” she muttered, opening the box and finding another box within it, this time wrapped in silver foil with a blue ribbon.
“I’m going to make you work for it.” He laughed a little, kissing her temple.
Kass gave him a dirty look. “Who knew you were this cagey, Grant?”
“I’m black ops, Darling. That says it all.”
“Well,” she said, tearing open the paper after pulling off the ribbon, “this had better be worth it, cowboy.”
He merely smiled a catlike smile.
Kass gasped as she opened the smaller white satin box. Inside it was a set of silver wedding rings. The engagement ring had seven emeralds set in graduated sizes, the largest in the center. It was completely transparent, the facets bringing out the evergreen color of her eyes. She looked over at Travis, who had lost his smile but was studying her intently.
“Will you marry me, Kass Murphy?”
Stunned, she stared at him. Recovering, her voice low with emotions, she said, “You know I will!” His boyish grin returned and he squeezed her shoulders gently.
“I love you, Kass. I never stopped loving you. Now? This all seems like a continuing dream to me. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you won’t be here at all.”
