Love And Honor: A Time Travel Romance (The Lightwood Affair Book 3)

by M. S. Parker

  I smiled and reached down to smooth back a few strands of hair from his face. I knew he wouldn’t wake if I touched him. He always slept deeply, especially after an eventful day like this. The reminder of him in his little tux, toddling down the aisle with the little flower girl running after him made my heart skip a beat.

  I was so thankful Jasper had finally found someone. Jasmine was as beautiful as her name and twice as sweet. She made Jasper smile and laugh. They were as perfect for each other as Allen and I. They wanted to have kids right away, so we’d soon be trading adult nights out for playdates and birthday parties, but none of us minded. We were all ready to focus on family.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Allen’s voice behind me should have startled me, but I’d already been aware of his presence, at least on a subconscious level. I was always aware of him.

  I shook my head. “I should be able to,” I said. “It was a long day.”

  “But a good one.” He slid his arms around my waist, his hands automatically going to the gentle bump under my nightgown.

  I wasn’t due for another five months, but I was already showing. Not surprising though. Our first sonogram had showed what I’d already been suspecting. Twins. We’d waited until Michael was eighteen months old before we’d started trying again. I’d told Allen that with twins, we’d be waiting for at least three years before we started on child number four.

  “It was a good day,” I agreed. I sighed and leaned back against my husband. Jasper’s wedding had made me think about mine, and I’d met Allen’s eyes across the aisle and known he’d been thinking the same thing.

  His hands rubbed up and down over my belly, an unconscious gesture I suspected. He’d done the same with Michael. That pregnancy hadn’t been an easy one and I knew he was worried about this one. So far, it had been better and something deep inside me told me that I didn’t need to worry. Hardly any morning sickness and it had gone away rather quickly. The babies were growing at the right rate and Dr. Kyle was happy with my weight.

  One corner of my mouth quirked up. I’d been a little concerned with how the pregnancy had changed my body, worried that Allen wouldn’t like it. He’d managed to get the truth out of me when, at six months, he’d found me sitting on the floor in our bedroom, crying over some dress that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to wear again. He’d taken me to bed and lavished so much attention on me that I’d finally calmed down.

  At least the mood-swings with the twins didn’t seem to be as extreme either. I still had a ways to go yet, but so far so good.

  “I’m thinking Madison and Micah,” he said suddenly.

  “Do you really want to go with the whole alliteration thing?” I asked, my lips curving into a soft smile. “Because if you do, baby number four needs to have a good M name too, or the poor kid will always feel like the odd one out.”

  “Well.” His voice softened. “I was thinking you might want to name the girl after your mother.”

  “Mom hated her name.” A wave of sadness washed over me. It wasn’t as strong as it had been the first time I’d thought of my mother when I’d been pregnant with Michael. That had been heart-breaking. Knowing that she’d never see her grandchildren, that I’d never be able to ask her advice on anything.

  Allen’s arms tightened around me. “I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said.

  “I’m okay.” And I was. I’d decided that my children would know their grandmother, through me and through my brother. We’d make sure they knew all about her and my father. I still remembered all of the stories my mother had told to bring my father alive for me.

  “Why did your mom hate her name?” Allen asked. “Nisa’s a nice name.”

  I laughed softly and twisted my neck so I could look up at him. “You do know that wasn’t her name, right? Nisa was a nickname. Short for Narcissa.”

  He chuckled, pressing his lips together to muffle the sound. “Her name was really Narcissa? How did I not know that?”

  “I told you she hated her name.” I put my hands over his. “But maybe Nisa would be a good name.”

  “I like that,” he said. He rested his chin on the top of my head. “And how about Taylor?”

  “Taylor’s good,” I agreed. “But I think Jasper and Jasmine were thinking of using that name.”

  “Could be fun if we named our kids the same thing,” Allen said with a touch of humor in his voice. “Especially if one’s a boy and one’s a girl. They could even get married and have the exact same name.”

  I shook my head. “You need to stop talking now.”

  Allen’s mouth moved to my ear, his tongue flicking out to tease my earlobe. “Are you going to offer me an incentive to be quiet?”

  I turned in his arms and looked up at him, meeting his eyes in the dim light. I slid one hand down his chest and between us. There was barely enough room now, but I managed to get where I wanted. I cupped him through his pajama pants, the heat telling me that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. A spike of arousal went through me. Yet another difference between this pregnancy and the last. With Michael, I hadn’t wanted sex very often. With the twins, I couldn’t get enough.

  “How about we head back to the bedroom and I give you other things to do with your mouth?” I flexed my fingers and he groaned, his cock swelling under my touch.

  He took my mouth, gently at first, but then with more passion as I leaned against him, my belly and fuller breasts pressing to his chest. I curled my tongue around his, drawing them both back into my mouth.

  I loved kissing him. The way his lips moved with mine. The feel of his tongue exploring my mouth as if every kiss was new. How his hands roamed across my back, down to cup my ass and then back up to bury in my hair.

  We were still kissing as we moved into our bedroom. I broke it only when I reached the bed. I pulled my nightgown over my head, revealing that I was bare underneath. Allen’s eyes darkened with desire as he took my breasts in his hands. I moaned at the touch. They were so sensitive.

  “So beautiful.” He lowered his head, gently kissing my nipples before taking one into his mouth.

  “Allen,” I breathed his name. My head fell back and I was pretty sure that if I hadn’t had the bed bracing behind my knees I would’ve fallen. Each pull of his mouth, flick of his tongue, sent pleasure zinging across my nerves, straight to the center of me. Desire pooled in my belly, growing with each passing second.

  When Allen and I had gotten married, I’d known I’d be with him forever. That I’d love him forever. I’d hoped I’d want him forever too. Now I knew the truth. I loved him more, wanted him more, than I had the day before.

  He eased me back on the bed, shedding his clothes as we went. The sensation of his skin gliding against mine set my body on fire. Every inch of me felt like it was burning, as if the friction between us had sparked and held. And then he was kissing his way down my body, taking care to pay close attention to my stomach. I felt his lips move against my skin, the breath of words being spoken, but I couldn’t hear anything. That was okay though. I knew he wasn’t talking to me.

  When he moved lower, I parted my legs and he settled between them as naturally as if he’d been there his whole life. He pressed his mouth against the inside of my thigh and then moved higher. I cried out when his tongue touched me, parting my folds and dipping into me. He moved slowly, drawing out the exquisite torture. He kissed me as deeply as he’d kissed my mouth only minutes before, each pass of his tongue sending a new wave of pleasure washing over me. Then he moved to my clit and I reached down to grab his hair, needing to touch him, to ground myself even as I felt my body trying to float away.

  He slid a finger inside me, pumping slowly as he flicked his tongue back and forth across my clit. I felt the pressure building and knew I was close to coming. I tightened my grip on his soft hair, my hips starting to rise and fall in time with his strokes. A second finger joined the first and I made a half-gasping sound. He curled his fingers, searching for that spot inside me and when he fou
nd it, I cried out. He stroked it twice and I came. He kept up the perfect combination of friction and pressure, drawing out my climax until I was writhing against his mouth and hand, desperate.

  “Please, baby.” I tugged on his hair. “I need you inside me.”

  He surged up my body, pushing inside me as he went. My back arched as he filled me, another cry falling from my lips. He kept himself propped up on his arms so he wasn’t putting any weight on my belly and I looked up at him, our eyes meeting as he thrust again and again.

  Each stroke was strong and sure, knowing exactly where I needed him, exactly how I formed around him. I looked down the length of him to where we were joined, watched his cock appear and disappear between my legs.

  He never faltered, driving me higher and higher. He was relentless, determined to bring us both as much pleasure as possible. I put my hands on his arms, feeling his muscles flexing beneath the skin. I knew these arms, I thought. Knew this body. He had taken care of me, protected me, loved me for more than a decade.

  A wave of love swept over me and I came, calling out his name. He rode my body even as I rode my pleasure and before my own climax had ended, his was beginning. His body tensed as he buried himself deep, his cock pulsing inside me. The feeling of him coming made me come again, my pussy tightening around him until he swore, the word coming out a growl.

  He collapsed beside me, pulling me tight against him as we caught our breath. I felt his heart pounding in his chest. I loved that sound. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple.

  “I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you almost from the first moment I saw you, Shae Van Walson-Lockwood.”

  “I love you too.” I snuggled back against him, needing to have him close.

  “I’ll always love you,” he murmured. “Always.”

  His words sent a sliver of fear through me. Terror. So bright and sharp that it drove away everything else.

  “Always.”

  I came awake with a gasp and automatically reached out towards Allen’s side of the bed, not understanding why my dream should have frightened me.

  Then my fingers brushed against the empty space and reality crashed back into me with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. I let out a broken sob.

  It had been just a dream.

  There would be no watching our son sleep. No second or third child. No making love in our bed. That future was gone.

  My world was gone.

  Allen was dead.

  Chapter 9

  I stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, but could have been only minutes. Ever since the moment I’d realized that Allen’s parachute wasn’t going to open, that I was going to watch my husband die, time had ceased to have meaning. Sometimes it moved slowly, seconds creeping by for years, reminding me of a lifetime stretched before me without the man I loved. Other times, it bounded forward, skipping and jumping from one hour to the next, threatening me with the forgetfulness that came with the passage of time.

  I didn’t want to forget. Tears burned my eyes as I forced myself to recall Allen’s face. It hurt to think of him, but the thought of forgetting hurt even more. I’d been with him since the middle of my first semester at UCLA. He’d been my only serious boyfriend and my only lover. We’d been together for eight years, only one as husband and wife. Tears trickled the familiar path down my cheeks. We’d been talking about starting a family.

  My stomach suddenly clenched, my chest tightening until I couldn’t breathe. After the...accident, I hadn’t been able to think beyond making a single phone call. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I could be pregnant.

  I put my hand on my stomach, as if I’d be able to tell if life grew there. The chance was small, minuscule really, but it still existed. We’d decided to start trying for a family on our anniversary. Yesterday morning, we’d made love and it was possible that I could’ve gotten pregnant.

  Had that only been yesterday morning? It seemed like a lifetime since then.

  My hand began to make small circles on my stomach, soothing the life that may or may not be growing in that moment. I wasn’t sure which to hope for. A child would be a part of Allen, a piece of him that I could still hold onto. But did I really want to raise a child alone simply because I wanted something of Allen to stay with me? Would that be healthy for me or the child? Would I be able to separate an individual from the man I missed?

  I let out a slow breath and forced myself to move my hand off of my stomach. There was no use trying to decide what I would do about a baby until I knew whether or not I was pregnant. The slim chance wasn’t enough to add even more onto my plate at the moment. I had plenty of things I needed to do.

  I didn’t want to do any of them though. All I wanted to do was lay here and cry over the life that was stolen from me. Not just Allen’s, but the lives of any children and grandchildren we may have had. The life that we would have spent together.

  I couldn’t do that though. There were things that needed to be done. Calls that had to be made. Arrangements. All of the things that I hadn’t thought I’d need to do until I was old and gray, until I had children to help me and comfort me. It didn’t stop them from needing to be done though, and I knew that Allen would’ve insisted I get up, that I take care of business. Lying here with that gaping hole in my heart wouldn’t bring him back. Keeping busy wouldn’t fix it, but maybe, just maybe, it could keep me from screaming.

  I forced myself to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. It was still early. Barely six o’clock and I never got up that early when I wasn’t in school. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again though. And after that dream, I didn’t want to. The waking was too painful.

  My limbs were heavy as I made my way to the bathroom. I tried not to look at anything, to not see Allen’s razor or shaving cream. To not see the towel he’d thrown at the hamper, but was lying on the floor because he’d missed. There were too many reminders.

  As I stepped under the warm spray, I closed my eyes and let myself think of nothing but the white noise of the water coming down around me. I let it fill my head until my shoulders sagged in relief. I washed quickly, but let myself stay until I was calm enough to deal with the outside world. I didn’t know how long the calm would last, but it was a start.

  I wasn’t quite the over-planner that Allen was… that Allen had been. The correction sent a stab of pain through my heart, but I didn’t let it overwhelm me. I had things to do, and while not quite as thorough, I was still the kind of person who could work her way through a list.

  At the top of the list was the thing I wanted to do the least.

  Make phone calls.

  I hadn’t watched the news last night to see if they’d covered the crash, but I didn’t think they’d released Allen’s name. If they had, my phone would’ve been ringing off the hook. When I picked it up from the bedside table, however, there weren’t any messages or missed calls. That was good.

  Allen’s family still didn’t know.

  Yesterday, I couldn’t have made that call. They would’ve flown up immediately and while I hated being alone in this nightmare, having them around would be worse. As I stepped into the living room, I remembered that I wasn’t alone. I had managed to make a single call after the accident. I’d turned to the one person Allen trusted as much as me. The one person he would’ve turned to had the situation been reversed.

  Jasper Whitehall was still sleeping on the couch. I wasn’t sure why he was there and not in one of our guest rooms, but there he was, his muscular frame barely fitting on the narrow cushions. With his coal black hair and clear gray eyes, he looked nothing like Allen, but the sight of him brought back the memory of my husband so vividly that I gasped and staggered back against the wall.

  I didn’t realize that Jasper had woken up until he was at my side, concern on his face. He led me over to the couch, pushing aside the blanket he’d been using so I could sit down. I bent forward, squeezing my eyes closed as I focused
on breathing. I felt the warmth and pressure of an arm around my shoulders, heard soft, soothing noises, and I wanted it to be Allen so badly, but I couldn’t even fool myself that little bit.

  Strangely enough, that helped, facing the truth that it wasn’t his arm, his voice. I found myself able to breathe, to straighten. Jasper’s arm fell away, but he was still sitting close enough for me to feel the heat from his body, his presence comforting now rather than a painful reminder.

  “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” he said softly. “Because I know that’s a stupid question.”

  My eyes met his and I saw my own pain mirrored there. I was so used to him being closed off that the intensity of the emotion I saw comforted me. With a start, I realized that was why I’d called Jasper. Yes, part of it had been because of Allen’s trust, but I could see now that it had also been because Jasper was the only other person who could truly understand what I was going through. The type of love we had for Allen may have been different, but the depth of it had been the same. Was the same.

  “Thank you,” I said. I reached over and put my hand on his. I saw a flash of surprise as I squeezed his hand. “I don’t think I could get through this without you.”

  “Me either,” he admitted.

  We sat there for a moment, not talking, not moving, my hand wrapped around his, sharing our grief. Then the doorbell rang, and the moment was gone. Time started forward again.

  “I’ll get it,” Jasper said.

  I nodded, but as he started for the door, I stood as well. If it was someone from the vineyard, I needed to be there. It was my responsibility now. It wasn’t an employee though. It was a pair of detectives. They were showing Jasper their badges when I stepped up next to him.

  “Mrs. Lockwood?” The older of the two men looked past Jasper to me. He had dark hair with silver streaks that made me put his age in the late fifties. The lines around his eyes said he’d seen too much in those years.