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Mara brushed a kiss across her son’s cheek. “I’ll never leave you,” she whispered. “No one will ever abandon you, or hurt you. I swear it on my life. I’ll see that you have everything you ever want, everything you need. Yes, I will, you beautiful little boy, because your mother loves you very much.”
He was such an adorable baby, with his dimpled hands and feet. She never tired of looking at him, holding him. His hair, as fine as down, was inky black. She wondered if his eyes would stay gray, like Kyle’s.
Moving to the rocker in the corner, she sat down and put the baby to her breast. Nursing her son was both painful and pleasant. Savanah had assured her that, after a short time, the discomfort would go away.
Mara smiled faintly as she stroked her son’s cheek. Had she known motherhood was this wonderful, she might have wished for a return to humanity centuries ago. Never had she ever felt so fulfilled, so needed, never experienced such love for anything or anyone else.
“Now there’s a picture I’ve got to paint.”
Mara glanced at the bed to find Kyle sitting up and watching her, his lips curved in a faint smile. He made quite a picture himself, she mused, with his hair tousled and the sheet pooled in his lap. For a moment, she wished it was Logan sitting there.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking down at the baby. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No big deal.” Kyle stretched his arms over his head, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t get over how beautiful you are.” Indeed, he had never seen anything more stirring than the sight of Mara nursing their son. Faint rays of sunlight leaked into the room, bathing the two of them in a golden glow reminiscent of Old World paintings of the Madonna. “Both of you. Have you decided on a name for our boy?”
“No. I was thinking of Cleopatra if it was a girl.”
“It’s probably just as well that we had a boy then,” Kyle said with a wry grin. “Can you imagine how the other kids would tease a girl with a name like that?”
She nodded absently. Odd that she had named Vince’s twin sons, but she couldn’t decide on a suitable name for her own child. “How about Derek?” Kyle suggested. “It’s a bit old-fashioned, but it was my maternal grandfather’s name. He was a wonderful old guy. Used to make me kites. I remember he taught me how to ride a bike, and how to fish and row a boat. He lived a good, long life.”
“You don’t want to name your son Kyle?”
“Maybe the next one.”
“Derek,” Mara murmured, trying the name on her tongue. It was a good name, a strong name. “Yes, I like that.”
“So, now that we have a name for our son, don’t you think it’s time his mother married his father?” Rising, Kyle pulled on his jeans, then knelt in front of her. “Be my wife,” he said, his dark eyes filled with tenderness. “I want to fall asleep at your side every night, and wake up in the morning with you in my arms. Say yes, Mara. Say you’ll marry me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”
Mara stared at him. She had made her decision to stay with Kyle weeks ago, so why was she hesitating now? Why did she suddenly hear Logan’s voice in the back of her mind, thick with hurt and anger as he declared his love for her? Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time.
Why had she let her foolish pride come between herself and Logan? And yet, even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she had chosen Kyle because they were equals. Because she could control him in a way she would never be able to control Logan. But what did it matter now? She had walked out on Logan twice. He wasn’t likely to take her back a third time.
“Mara?”
Kyle was looking up at her, waiting for her answer. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’ll marry you.”
Kyle smiled at her for a long moment, his throat too tight for words, and then, very gently, he kissed her. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll love you for as long as I live.”
She forced a smile, already regretting her decision.
“You’re getting married!” Savanah exclaimed when Kyle made the announcement later that evening. “Oh, I think that’s wonderful. Congratulations, you two! When’s the happy occasion?”
“I’m not sure,” Mara said. “Not for five or six weeks.”
“Well, of course not,” Savanah said with a knowing grin. “You’re still recovering from having a baby. No sense getting married until you can have a real honeymoon.”
“You’ve got that right!” Kyle exclaimed, then looked at Mara. “Hey, I’m kidding.”
Mara smiled a bit self-consciously. Derek was living proof that they had already had the honeymoon.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Kyle said, giving Mara’s hand a squeeze, “but I’m ready whenever she is.”
“What kind of wedding did you have in mind?” Rane asked.
Mara shook her head. “I really don’t know.” She looked at Kyle. “Do you?”
“Anything you want is fine with me.”
Anything she wanted . . . In her time, there had been no formal marriage ceremony in front of a priest, although there was a written contract, which included the wedding date, the names of the bride and the groom, as well as the names of their parents. It was also customary to list the husband’s profession, the name of the person who drew up the contract, and the names of three witnesses. When a young man and woman decided to wed, the man made a payment to the bride’s father, and bestowed a gift of gold, silver, or other precious stones on the bride. Once an agreement was reached, the bride moved in with her future husband. Of course, back in those days, the woman might be as young as thirteen and the man only fifteen or sixteen. A wedding was naturally a festive occasion. There would be a lavish feast, with dancing and singing and toasts to the happy couple. When the bride and groom departed for their new home, it was customary for the guests to throw green wheat, the symbol of fertility, into the air. If the marriage didn’t work out, a divorce was easily obtained by either party. Usually, the husband paid support of some kind to his ex-wife.
“I don’t have any family,” Mara said, “except for Rane’s.”
“My folks are gone, too,” Kyle said, “so there won’t be anyone on my side of the church.”
