Their Miracle Baby

by Caroline Anderson

  She could feel her heart beating there, his lips pressed softly to the pulse point. A little cry rose in her throat, and he must have felt it vibrate under his lips because he moved then, lifting his head, staring down into her eyes as if he was trying to read her soul.

  He ought to be able to. It was there for him to read, everything

  And maybe he did, because he smiled then, a tiny flicker of encouragement, before his mouth lowered again and he captured her lips with his. She opened to him on a sigh, and this time he settled his mouth against hers, his arms tightening, supporting her as his kiss grew bolder, deepening until she thought her knees would go out from under her.

  But he had her, held close against his heart, and finally he lifted his head and stared down at her again.

  ‘I want you, Fran,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I need you. Not just tonight, but every night, for the rest of our lives. I need you more than I need to breathe.’

  ‘Oh, Mike,’ she whispered, the tears that had threatened earlier finally spilling over. ‘I need you, too. I love you—so very, very much. I just don’t know if I can be the woman you want.’

  ‘You are the woman I want,’ he said, his voice vibrating with sincerity, ‘and if you can’t do this—if you really don’t want to, then you’re still the woman I want. I still love you. Whatever happens, I’ll always love you.’

  ‘I can do this,’ she said, her doubts dissolving like mist in the sunshine, leaving her certain. ‘Make love to me, Mike. I’ve missed you so, so much.’

  He gave a ragged, broken groan, and his mouth came down on hers hard, seeking, demanding her response, and she rose up on tiptoe, threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him right back, her tongue tangling with his, stroking, suckling, pleading until he dragged his mouth away and reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head and throwing it aside, his eyes settling on her hungrily.

  ‘Mike, please…’ she gasped, and he straightened and stripped them away, leaving her there exposed to his eyes. The bedroom light was off, but the landing light was on and she knew he could see her clearly. Knew by the way his eyes darkened, the way his lips parted and the air hissed out of them.

  He grasped her thighs, kneeling, awkward in the cast, and laying hot, open-mouthed kisses from her knee slowly, slowly up her thigh, so near and yet so far…

  ‘Mike, please!’

  He looked up, his eyes black. ‘Not yet,’ he said tightly. Turning his attention to the other leg, his tongue teased the trembling, quivering flesh behind her knee, the soft graze of his stubble torture as he worked his way slowly up her thigh until at last, finally, he was there, his mouth closing over her…

  ‘Mike!’

  She felt the tremors start, felt the sensation build as his tongue flicked against her, and then she felt his fingers there, thrusting into her in time with his tongue, and her body arched, a scream leaving her throat as wave after wave of sensation crashed through her, leaving her shaking and stunned in its wake.

  ‘Mike?’

  ‘I’m here,’ he growled, his voice rough with need, and she felt a button ping off his shirt and flick against her skin.

  It did, finally, but only because he’d moved on, his breath hot against her throat, his lips parted, nipping, nibbling, his tongue like fire licking over her, leaving her shaking and wild with a need every bit as desperate as his own.

  Her hands clung to him, plunging into his hair, holding him against her as his chin grazed her chest, her breasts, tormenting her, his breath sighing over her skin until finally, when she thought she would have to scream if he left it another second, his mouth closed hotly over a nipple and she did scream, a sobbing scream of need and frustration satisfied at last.

  Except not, because it just made it all much worse, and the need was building again, another need, much greater, and she bucked against him, feeling the hard, urgent thrust of his erection against her thigh. And tonight she was ready for it.

  More than ready.

  ‘Mike, please,’ she sobbed, her hands dragging at him, and with a fractured groan he shifted over her, settling against the intense, liquid heat, the fire he’d lit in her burning recklessly out of control as he stared down into her eyes and drove deeply into her.

  ‘Oh, God, Fran, I love you,’ he said brokenly, and then he started to move, the long, slow thrusts driving her higher, higher, until with a sobbing cry she felt her body tighten around him and sensation flooded her again. He drove into her one last time, then stiffened against her, a

  He held her all night.

  She woke towards dawn, and he made love to her again, slowly, tenderly, afraid he’d hurt or frighten her, but she clung to him, her breathy sighs sweet music to his ears, and as she curled against him to sleep again, there was a smile on her face.

  He didn’t smile. He was too close to tears, too moved to speak. He just held her, thankful for the chance, hoping that the future wouldn’t prove too much for them but a little more confident now that they would make it.

  They had to, because without her he would be nothing.

  Fran woke again later, the sun well up, and found Mike gone.

  She could hear his voice in the kitchen, and she slipped out of bed, hot colour scorching her cheeks as she saw the trail of underwear strewn across the floor. She scooped it up, showered and dressed quickly and went downstairs.

  ‘Hi, Fran,’ Joe said, and then did a mild double-take before turning away, just a fraction too slowly to hide his smile.

  She felt the heat climb her cheeks again and went over to the kettle. ‘Any tea in the pot?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘I should make some fresh,’ Joy said. ‘It’s been there a while. I would have brought you up a cup but Mike said to let you sleep.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, filling the kettle and avoiding Mike’s eye. They hadn’t exchanged a word since last night, and

  ‘How about a fruit smoothie?’

  Oh, lord. He was right behind her, his body big and powerful and radiating heat. He rested his hand on her hip, and she leant against him, wondering what his family would make of their closeness and deciding it was none of their business. ‘OK,’ she said, surprised by his suggestion as well as his closeness. ‘Want one?’

  ‘Please.’

  She met his eyes, saw the unspoken message and smiled. So he was engaging with this diet, taking it seriously, even though she knew he was afraid for her in case it all went wrong again. She went up on tiptoe, brushed a kiss over his lips and then pulled a selection of fruit out of the fridge.

  ‘Two smoothies coming up,’ she said lightly. Chopping the fruit, she wondered how long his family were going to hang around before they left them in peace so they could go back to bed and carry on where they’d left off…

  It was a glorious few days.

  Fran absconded from the farm, taking Mike to get his cast changed again and his stitches removed. The skin had healed well, and the swelling had subsided a lot, so they put on a lightweight walking cast and told him to start bearing weight.

  Which meant they could do more, and so they did. They drove down to Penhally and had lunch in the Smugglers, then sat on the harbour wall in the sunshine and watched the children crabbing off the jetty, and then they went home

  She pulled on her clothes and went down, Mike following her a few moments later when he’d dressed himself more slowly, and if the family was studiously avoiding looking at them, she didn’t care, because she’d got her husband back, the man she’d loved for years and thought she’d lost, and she wasn’t going to be ashamed of spending time with him in their own home.

  Even if it was the afternoon!

  ‘Can you guys manage without us for a day or so?’ Mike asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms round her, the declaration so blatant they couldn’t fail to understand it.

  In unison they chorused, ‘Of course!’

  ‘Going anywhere nice?’ Sarah asked.

  Joe started to say something and got her el
bow in the ribs for his pains, and Joy and Russell just looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘We might take a run down to Falmouth if the weather stays fair,’ Mike said. ‘Don’t really know. We haven’t made any plans, but as I can’t really do anything and Fran hasn’t had a holiday for ages, we thought we might just take off for a night or so. Could you hang on to Brodie till Sunday?’

  ‘Sure.’ Joe nodded. ‘Got a hotel in mind?’

  Fran felt Mike shrug. ‘No plans. We’ll see where the road takes us.’

  In the end they found a fabulous hotel right on the clifftop with spectacular views of the rugged Cornish coast, and booked in for two nights, taking advantage of

  Talking like they’d never talked before, talking about anything and everything.

  Everything except the whole baby thing. That was taboo, a sort of tacit avoidance, because at the end of the day all that really mattered was that they loved each other. Anything else was just the icing on the cake.

  And then, relaxed and comfortable with each other, closer than they’d ever been, they went home because Sophie was coming, and Mike broke the taboo.

  ‘Will you be OK?’ he asked, and she smiled, realising with surprise that she would.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him. ‘And I’m looking forward to seeing her again.’

  Sophie was fizzing with excitement, of course, because Kirsten and Andrew had told her about the baby and she was utterly obsessed with the prospect. She talked about it non-stop, her holiday hardly getting a mention, and Fran thought it was just as well she was OK with it, because if this had happened before she and Mike had spent the last few days together in their glorious idyll, it would have been intolerable.

  But then Sophie snuggled up to her that evening, her restless little body finally still, and said, ‘I wish you could have a baby too,’ cos then I could have a baby in both my homes!’

  It was the ‘homes’ that did it for Fran. The fact that Sophie still considered this to be her home, even though she and her mother had moved out of it years ago and she

  ‘That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Mike?’ she said. ‘We’ll have to think about it.’

  ‘Maybe one day, sweetheart,’ he said softly, looking at Sophie, but Fran felt his words were for her. ‘And, anyway, you might like coming here and having a bit of peace at night without the baby crying,’ he added, this time definitely to his daughter, and her nose wrinkled.

  ‘Babies do cry a lot, don’t they? And they smell. Suzie’s mum’s got a baby and she had to change his nappy the other day when I was there and it was really smelly!’

  Fran chuckled and hugged her again, then stood up. ‘Come on, young lady, it’s time for bed.’

  ‘Oh, do I have to? I haven’t seen you for ages!’

  ‘It’s only two days longer than usual, so don’t give us that rubbish,’ Mike said with a laugh, standing up and scooping his daughter off the sofa and throwing her over his shoulder. He winced as his ribs twinged, but Fran handed him the crutch he was using as a stick and he hobbled out of the room, Sophie draped over his shoulder and giggling.

  ‘Mike, are you sure you’re OK to put her to bed, or do you want me to do it?’ Fran asked as he limped away.

  ‘I can do it. I’m fine,’ he assured her. Sliding Sophie down to the floor at the bottom of the stairs, he clapped his hands behind her and chased her up. She won easily, because he still found the stairs hard, but she heard him stumping along the landing, a great roar and a little shriek

  Whatever, she thought. He was a grown man, he knew if it hurt or not and she wasn’t his mother. He had one of those already, making more than enough fuss over him, so she really didn’t need to join in.

  She went into the kitchen and made them some fennel tea, letting it brew while she loaded the dishwasher, and by the time she’d finished he was down. ‘All tucked up?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He came up behind her, put his arms round her and sniffed. ‘Smells interesting.’

  ‘Fennel tea,’ she said, turning her head to look at him, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Try it, it’s really refreshing.’

  He looked doubtful, but then his eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘One condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I get a reward for drinking it.’

  ‘Such as?’

  He smiled lazily. ‘Oh—I’m sure you can work it out.’ He bent his head and brushed a feather-soft kiss over her shoulder, trailing his lips up the side of her neck and nibbling her ear with his lips.

  ‘Michael Trevellyan, behave,’ she said, giggling and swatting him away, but her knees were like jelly and her heart was pounding and she could feel her body responding to his instantly.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I’ve missed this, Fran. It’s been too long. Come here.’

  And he turned her into his arms, stepped forwards so he

  ‘Rats,’ he said mildly, easing away from her, his eyes blazing with promise. ‘Remember where we got to.’ And he picked up the phone. ‘Trevellyan.’

  He winked at her, then said, ‘Sure. That’ll be fine. I’ll have Sophie with me, but she’s no trouble.’ His eyes flicked to Fran’s, his gaze assessing, the mischief gone, and he said, ‘That would be lovely. Thanks. I’ll check with Fran and get back to you if there’s a problem. See you tomorrow—two? Fine.’

  He put the phone down. ‘That was Ben Carter,’ he said, and she thought his voice sounded a little wary. ‘He’s got a couple of days off, and they’ve invited us for a barbeque tomorrow. He wants to look over the land with me, show me where he’s talking about so I can discuss it with Joe later.’

  And, of course, the baby would be there. ‘That’s nice,’ she said, summoning a smile, and it was, of course. It would be lovely. Annabel was gorgeous, and she couldn’t isolate herself from everyone just in case she ever encountered a baby. She taught the reception class of a primary school, for heaven’s sake! She was surrounded by babies and toddlers and pregnant women at every turn.

  And just because, for now at least, she wasn’t able to join them, it didn’t mean she wanted to avoid them.

  ‘You really OK with it?’

  She smiled again, a bit more convincingly. ‘Yes, Mike. I’m OK with it. It’ll be lovely. Stop worrying. I can cope—I have to. And Sophie will be in her element. She’ll be able

  And if she told herself that enough times, maybe she’d believe it…

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS an absolutely gorgeous day, and Sophie was up with the larks, bursting into their bedroom and clambering onto the bed, effectively putting an end to their early-morning cuddle.

  Especially as the dog came too, trampling all over them and lashing Mike with her tongue.

  Fran ducked under the bedclothes with a little shriek, Mike yelled at Brodie and told her to get down, then he must have grabbed Sophie because she started to giggle hysterically.

  ‘No, no, stop!’ she screamed, then there was a yelp from Mike, and Fran emerged from the bedclothes to find him sitting up and holding his ribs, his mouth open as he gasped with pain.

  ‘I only tickled him back,’ Sophie said, her eyes flooding with tears, and Mike reached out and tucked her under his right arm, well away from the damaged ribs, and kissed the top of her head as she burrowed into him, sobbing heartbrokenly.

  ‘It’s OK, sweetheart, don’t cry, I’m fine,’ he said softly. ‘It wasn’t you, it was because I jumped. You didn’t hurt me.’

  ‘I’m sure. Come here.’

  So she snuggled back into his side and, reaching out her hand, caught hold of Fran and tugged her over, pulling her into the cuddle, too.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said, and for a few minutes they all lay there quietly until Sophie’s natural ebullience returned. ‘So—what are we going to do today? Can we go to the beach?’

  ‘Not while your dad’s got his cast on,’ Fran said, saving him from having to
tell her. ‘Anyway, we’re doing something much more exciting. We’re going to see Ben and Lucy Carter, just down the road at Tregorran House, and they’ve got a little baby girl called Annabel. I expect you’ll be able to play with her.’

  Sophie wriggled round and looked up at Fran, eyes sparkling. ‘Is she very new?’

  ‘Not very. She was born on Christmas Eve, but she’s still pretty tiny. She can’t do a lot, but you can play peep-bo with her and teach her how to play with her toys, I expect.’

  ‘Can I hold her?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘That means no,’ Sophie said with an exaggerated sigh.

  ‘No, it means maybe,’ Fran reiterated, ‘and it depends on Lucy.’

  ‘That’s not till this afternoon, though,’ Mike put in, ‘so what do you want to do this morning?’

  ‘Go riding,’ Sophie said promptly. ‘Can I? Please? Mummy said you might let me.’

  Mike met Fran’s eyes. ‘Got any other plans?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I’ve got things to do here, like

  They could, and they set off at a quarter to eleven, Sophie fizzing with excitement. They turned into the stableyard and pulled up, and she was out of the door and hopping from foot to foot with impatience while Mike sorted out his crutches.

  ‘Come on, you, hold my hand and let’s go and find Georgina,’ Fran said to her, and Sophie slipped her hand into Fran’s and all but dragged her over to where a few fat little ponies were tied up to a rail by the stables. Children were milling around them, brushing and fussing over them, and the ponies stood patiently and tolerated it with what Fran felt was very good grace.

  ‘Hi, Sophie, haven’t seen you for a while,’ Georgina Somers said, coming over and smiling at them. ‘You’re looking well, unlike your dad—he’s been in the wars, hasn’t he?’

  ‘He broke his leg,’ Sophie said, a little unnecessarily as Mike hobbled towards them in his cast, leaning heavily on one crutch and grinning.

  ‘Really?’ Georgina teased, then flashed a smile at Mike which might have made Fran jealous if she hadn’t been