It took some doing, and some serious juggling of arms and legs, but when they were finished, Judd was sitting with his back angled into the corner and she was snuggled against him with one arm circling his waist and the other busily undoing his buttons.
He shivered at her touch, then kissed her a half dozen more times, each time more passionately, more hungrily, until they were both breathing hard and aroused.
"I hope it snows for Christmas," she murmured as she undid the last button and pushed aside the soft material to find the even softer chest hair beneath.
"You do, why?"
"So we won't feel guilty about staying inside and popping popcorn and snuggling by the fire." And because she loved the feel of his hands stroking her back and the warm comfortable look in his eyes, as though for the first time in a long time, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
"You feel guilty. I don't. I'm still on light duty."
"For two weeks more."
"And then it's back to cracking the whip."
Darcy chuckled. "Monk and the others don't know how easy they've had it."
"Are you kidding?" Judd scoffed. "Way I hear it, he's turned into a worse tyrant than I ever was. Just yesterday, French and Bowling begged me to come back early."
"What did you tell them?"
"The truth. That my sexy new wife can't keep her hands off me, and it's a husband's duty to humor the old ball and chain."
Darcy tugged on a clump of his chest hair and he yelped. "Hey, watch it, woman. That's a V.I.P.'s chest you're busy messin' with."
Darcy gave him the grin he expected, but inside she was busy fighting a sudden deep tenderness. After the fire in the warehouse and the three others that had resulted from it had been extinguished and the town had a chance to take stock, Judd turned out to be the man of the hour. Not only for the daring rescue attempt of the town's then most prominent citizen, but also for the efficiency and skill of the men and women he'd trained so rigorously, who had kept the entire main part of town from being destroyed.
"Does it bother you to have a lot of the people who shunned you when you first came back patting you on the back now and singing your praises?" Darcy asked with a small smile of wifely curiosity.
He went still and his teasing manner ceased. "Some," he admitted, "but that's human nature, isn't it?"
"I suppose, but you're a lot more forgiving than I am."
His mouth took on a vulnerable slant. "We both know that isn't true."
Darcy touched the corner of his mouth until the tension trapped there eased. "I thought we settled that in the hospital. The past is history. Gone. No more guilt and blaming and regret."
His eyes bored into her. "I told you I would try, and mostly I can manage, but sometimes, like this morning when Bets and Angel hauled out those old family albums, it's … rough to keep the old feelings from taking over."
Darcy caressed the lined face that would never look young again. "But isn't it better to have those feelings, painful as they are sometimes, than none at all?"
"I'm not sure. Sometimes I wake up at night, and for a couple of bad seconds I'm twenty again and it's the night of Pat's funeral." He shuddered and pulled her closer until her hair tickled his nose and her breathing warmed his neck.
"The guilt will never go away, Red. It will always be there, somewhere inside me."
Darcy lifted her face to his and kissed the faint cleft in his obstinate chin. "Have I told you that I love you?"
Some of the stark pain bled from his eyes and his mouth twitched. "Not in the last fifteen minutes, no."
"Well, I do. And I intend to tell you that every time you get that stiff look on your face and I know you're busy beating up on yourself again."
"What is this, some kind of homespun psychology?" he grumbled with a prodigious frown, but the hand that was busy rearranging the curls feathering her cheek trembled slightly just before he laid it gently against her face.
"Something like that. Is it working?"
She wiggled her bottom in small provocative movements that soon had him forgetting all about the black memories. "Ah, something is, yes."
"How about this?" Darcy ran her fingernails along the ridge of muscle below his tiny nipples, creating a small, involuntary ripple of need beneath his warm skin.
"Enough, woman, or you and that teasing little fanny of yours are going to end up bouncing on the floor!" He was laughing, but there was a tender light in his dark eyes.
Pretending to be affronted, Darcy struggled to free herself from his strong arms. "Just for that I'm going downstairs to our children and—"
Judd's mouth smothered the rest of her protest, and his fingertips circled her small breast, then spiraled slowly closer and closer to the hardening, straining nipples.
"Hmm," he said, lifting his mouth an inch or so. "Don't take this wrong, Red, but you seem to be putting on some weight."
"Don't worry, it's only temporary," she cooed.
His dusty eyebrows lifted slowly. "Too much of Bridget's Christmas tea ring?"
"Not exactly."
"No? Then—" He stopped midthought, his dark, dark eyes probing hers as though he'd never seen her before.
Curving her lips into a smugly triumphant smile, she slowly nodded her head. He blinked, and his skin paled.
"A baby?" he asked, his tone reverent.
"Only one this time, I hope." The wild joy sweeping his face brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes.
"But you said you wanted to wait."
"So I fudged a little. Are you happy?"
His throat worked, and he had to clamp his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before he managed the smile she wanted.
"I love it, Red. And I love you."
Darcy didn't even try to look nonchalant as she linked her arms around her husband's strong neck and oh so gently kissed away the tears quivering on his blunt lashes.
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FIREBRAND Page 23
