He's My Husband! - Lindsay Armstrong [62]
He traced the swell of one breast, then the other, and bent his head to taste her nipples.
She arched her body against him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, revelling in the glorious contact with the whole lean, strong length of him.
‘Perhaps,’ he said softly. ‘But you do understand why I held back, don’t you? I—’
‘Of course—your integrity is another reason why I love you so much,’ she murmured, and kissed his throat.
‘Then I have to tell you I can’t stand much more of this, my darling,’ he said into her hair.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘The freedom of my body is yours, Brett.’
He said her name on a suddenly tortured breath, and started to kiss her.
There was a surprise for her that morning, Saturday.
She got up very late—later than Brett—to find that the house had been transformed into a wonderland of white ribbons and silver balloons. To find Sasha and Chris dressed in their best clothes and about to expire from serious over-excitement. To find a champagne luncheon for at least twenty people laid out in the dining room and a magnificent cake with twenty-one candles.
‘But...but I thought you’d all forgotten,’ she stammered.
‘Nearly bust a gut getting them to keep the secret,’ Ellen said, and inclined her head towards Sasha and Chris.
‘I told you we wouldn’t tell, Ellen,’ Sasha reproved, and added to Nicola, ‘Daddy had it all under control—even when he had to be in Brisbane.’
Nicola turned to Brett. He held out his hand and she took it, managing to say huskily, ‘Thank you. I...thank you. I guess I’d better get changed.’ She looked ruefully down at her shorts and T-shirt.
‘May I make a suggestion?’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t you wear your wedding dress?’
So she did—although she didn’t wear the hat—and it turned out to be a lively party, with their best friends, Ellen’s family and the special delivery of a magnificent basket of flowers—from Marietta.
Nicola was still in her beautiful dress as the sun started to set and the last guests left. She and Brett were standing on the deck, hand in hand, watching the changing colours of the sea.
‘Happy?’ he asked.
‘More than you could believe.’
‘About last night...’ he murmured.
Nicola caught her breath and remembered their lovemaking—not that it had been far from her mind all day.
‘I was wondering whether it lived up to expectations, that’s all.’ He looked down at her gravely.
She stared into his hazel eyes and recalled being possessed by him with a need and a hunger that had surpassed all her expectations. But it had also touched a response in her so profound it had carried them both into territory where she would never again feel less than equal with this tall man. Never again not know that she was both his haven and his match.
And when they’d come down from the star-shot splendour that had racked them simultaneously, and he’d cradled her in his arms and smoothed her damp hair from her brow, smudged the tears of joy from her cheeks, she’d offered up a little prayer of thanks for the impulse that had taken her to see the Reverend Peter Callam those short weeks ago.
‘About last night...’ she said, equally as grave. ‘I can think of only one word to describe it.’
‘And that is?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Well, two. Absolutely awesome.’
‘My own thinking entirely, as it happens. It also happens that I haven’t given you your twenty-first birthday present yet.’
‘But I thought...?’ She glanced down at the sapphire ring on her finger.
‘No. That signifies something else, Nicola. This is—this is something I had specially made for you. At the time, I didn’t know whether I’d be able to tell you this, but...’ He paused, and put something into her hand.
She looked down to see a tiny gold key, studded with diamonds, on a fine chain.
‘Tell me what, Brett?’ Her voice shook because of what she saw in his eyes.
‘That without you to hold this key, the key of my heart, I’m lost and alone—darling, don’t cry.’