"I know you swore once you'd never marry," Chandra said, sounding breathless, "But don't you think that the Moonchaser needs a first mate?"
"No," Linc said, breaking away from her to leap up over the railing, suddenly knowing that his job, the age difference between them, all the problems were miniscule beside the joy of having her back.
"No?" Chandra looked startled, then gasped as he leaned down to grab her and swing her aboard after him.
"No," he repeated. "The position's already filled." He kissed her again, gently this time, then stood looking down into his mermaid's loving eyes. "For life."
The joy that lit her face was echoed in his heart. This time it was she who kissed him, stretching up to reach his mouth, her slender body shifting, searching for the evidence that he still wanted her as fiercely as before. She found it the moment her stomach met his hips, and she heard him suck in his breath.
"Guess you'll have to rename her again," she said, after she'd kissed him until he was gasping, groaning at her every move. "You're not chasing anymore."
"Thank God," he murmured against her hair. "My mermaid let herself get caught again."
When the dockmaster arrived an hour later to mooch his usual lunch, he found the hatch locked and the curtains closed. It didn't take him long to equate the absence of his formerly morose lunch companion with the earlier arrival of a petite, shapely blonde, and he was grinning as he turned and made his way back up the dock.
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
Linc pulled his wife closer to him on the sofa, and they exchanged a tender glance before turning back to the tableau before them. Shiloh sat in the big, overstuffed teal chair in her living room, cuddling her tiny son. Con sat on the arm of the chair, staring down at both of them. Occasionally he would reach out to touch Shy's cheek, then the baby's, as if he couldn't believe either of them were truly real.
He looked, Linc thought with a smothered grin, a damn sight better than the chalk-faced man who had staggered out of the delivery room three days ago.
"Never again," he'd sworn fervently. "I swear, I'll get cut, I'll keep my hands off her, whatever it takes, but she's never going through this again."
Later, when he'd been ready to believe that Shy was all right, Con had been able to laugh at himself, although Linc didn't think he'd ever forget the look in his brother-in-law's eyes when he'd whispered, "God, Linc, you know what it would take to make Shy scream like that."
Linc turned his gaze to Chandra, who was watching young Robert Lincoln McQuade with a very solemn expression. Then his father, who had been watching his namesake raptly, at last tore himself away and wheeled over to his son.
"I think that son-in-law of mine is going to make a hell of a father."
Linc glanced at Con, who had bent to press a kiss on Shy's upturned cheek. "I think you're right."
"Do you know," Robert said proudly, "he came to me for advice?"
Linc hid his knowing smile. "Did he?"
"Yes. Know it wasn't easy for him, either. He's still not used to having a family, to not being alone anymore."
"I know," Linc said softly, tightening his arm around Chandra when he felt her tense at Robert's words. "It takes time, especially for those who haven't been as lucky as Shy and I have."
"Well," Robert said with a pleased chuckle, "he'll learn fast now. You know," he added, eyeing his son and daughter-in-law pointedly, "I could get used to this grandchild thing. All the fun and none of the trouble."
It was Linc who tensed this time. He hadn't brought up the subject of children at all. Even though at his age, he thought wryly, he'd better not wait too long, he still wanted Channie to have time to adjust, to have time to savor her newly discovered strength before he even broached the topic.
If he broached it at all, he amended, remembering once more Con's near panic when Shy's labor had seemed to go on endlessly. Chandra was so small, so slight, and he was Con's size, and baby Robert had been a healthy nine-plus pounds. The thought made him shudder. He wouldn't blame Channie if she decided she didn't want go through it. And he would live with whatever she did decide.
"So," Robert said, patting Chandra's hand, "don't you think Robert needs a cousin?"
Chandra blushed, Linc coughed, and not too subtly changed the subject.
Chandra was silent on the way back to the small bed-and-breakfast inn overlooking the San Clemente Pier, where Linc had taken a room so they could spend this last day of his emergency leave alone together. He wanted to tell her he was thinking about retiring, and taking that job with WestCorp. They'd told him his next assignment would be back in the Middle East, and he'd grown tired of being a small cog in the effort to bring peace to an area that had been at war for centuries.
But she worked so hard at concealing her worry about his work, and he wasn't certain he could convince her that if he quit, it would be for himself. He was weary of traveling; for the first time he wanted a home, a real home, of his own. And someday, maybe… He stifled the thought; that, he told himself again, was Chandra's decision.
It wasn't until they were inside the lushly decorated suite that she at last spoke.
"You know," she said, turning to face him, placing her hands on his chest, "I think your father's right."
He blinked. "About?"
"Your—" She broke off, smiled, then started again. "Our nephew is going to need a cousin."
Linc's breath caught in his throat. Had he betrayed his earlier thoughts somehow? "Channie…"
"Would you mind a girl? I think I'd like a girl."
An image shimmered in his mind, of a tiny, flaxen-haired pixie with his own hazel eyes, appearing so quickly that he knew it must have been forming for a long time.
"No," he said huskily, "I wouldn't mind at all."
"Good," she whispered. "Because I went to the doctor yesterday."
He swallowed tightly. "You're sure? God, Channie, Shy had such a hard time, and she's bigger than you."
"Most people are," she said, and Linc smiled at the lack of bitterness in her tone. "Shy told me she never believed all that about women forgetting the pain as soon as they held their baby. And you don't forget it, she said. But it doesn't matter anymore, not once you look at the tiny being you've created with the man you love."
Linc nearly groaned. Then he smiled crookedly. "A girl, huh? Guess I'd better dust off the white hat."
"Oh, no," Chandra said firmly. "Our little girl will wear her own, thank you." Then, with a smile that took his breath away, she looked up at him and added, "But she'll let you wear yours, too. And her cousin. And her Uncle Con and Aunt Shiloh. There can't be too many white hats, can there?"
"No," Linc agreed, a little overwhelmed at how far his mermaid had come in such a short time. She was the strong, tough woman he'd always sensed was there, yet she was tender in a way that made him feel nothing less than humble. And she would raise her daughter … their daughter, to be the same way. And if it was a boy, he'd get that same fierce yet gentle determination, and be the better for it. "No," he repeated softly, "there can't be too many white hats."
"Or too many eagles," Chandra whispered.
Linc wondered what she meant by that, but then she was kissing him, and all he could think of was the feel of his mermaid in his arms.
* * * * *
TO HOLD AN EAGLE Page 24
