Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [76]
“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured. “I’d like to marry you now. I’d like to make you pregnant right now, if I could. I was looking forward to our devoting a lot of time to that project, but now I’ll have to take precautions. Our children will all come after we’ve been married for at least nine months. No one’s going to count their fingers and smirk at our babies.”
Her eyes were such wide, huge golden pools of wonder, that they eclipsed the rest of her face. The thought of children was so enticing that she was tempted to tell him that she would marry him right then. She’d always wanted children, wanted to be able to pour out the deep reservoir of love that was dammed up inside her. The care and nourishment that she’d never received from her own mother were there, waiting patiently for a child of her own. Blake’s child: blue eyes; dark hair; that engaging grin that brought out his hidden dimple.
But a child was the one thing she couldn’t gamble with, so she didn’t argue with him. Instead she offered quietly, “I’ll see a doctor and get a prescription.”
“No,” he refused, steel lacing his voice. “No pills. You’re not taking any risks, however slight, with your body. I can handle it without any risk at all, and that’s the way we’ll do it.”
She didn’t mind; the thought that he was willing to take responsibility for their lovemaking was a warm, melting one. She put her arms around him and nestled against him, drinking in his scent.
“Tell me you love me,” he demanded, cupping her chin in his palm and lifting her face to him. “I know you do, but I want to hear it.”
A tremulous smile quivered on her lips. “I love you.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said with satisfaction, and kissed her as a reward. “Everything will be all right, darling. Just wait and see.”
Chapter Eleven
She didn’t dare to hope, but it seemed as if he might be right. He bought a slim black cane that looked more like a sexy prop than something that was actually used as support, and every morning Miguel drove him to work. At first Dione fretted every moment he was gone. She worried that he might fall and hurt himself, that he’d try to do too much and tire himself out. After a week she was forced to admit that he was thriving on the challenge of working again. Far from falling, every day he improved, walking faster and with less effort. Nor did she have to worry that he was pushing himself too hard; he was in excellent shape, thanks to her program.
She almost drove herself mad thinking of all the women he was in contact with every day; she knew herself how attractive he was, especially with that intriguing limp. When he came home the first day she all but held her breath, waiting for him to say cheerfully, “Well, you were right; it was just infatuation. You can leave now.”
But he never said it. He returned home as eagerly as he went to work, and they spent the afternoons in the gym, or swimming if the day was warm. December was a pleasant month, with the afternoon temperatures often in the high sixties and low seventies, though at night it sometimes dipped close to freezing. Blake decided to have a heating unit put in the pool so they could swim at night, but he had so much on his mind that he kept putting it off. Dione didn’t care if the pool was ever heated or not; why bother with swimming when the nights were better spent in his arms?
Whatever happened, whatever the ending that was eventually written to their particular story, she would always love him for freeing her from the cage of fear. In his arms she forgot about the past and concentrated only on the pleasure he gave her, pleasure which she joyously returned.
He was the lover who she had needed; he was mature enough to understand the rewards of patience, and astute enough to sometimes be impatient. He gave, he demanded, he stroked, he experimented, he laughed, he teased, and he satisfied. He was as happily fascinated with her body as she was with his, and that was the sort of open admiration that she needed. The events that had shaped her had made her