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Luke shook his head. ‘The bed’s for when you get tired.’
‘And in the meantime …?’
‘You’ll have to come here if you want to find out …’
The space between them vibrated with sexual energy, encouraged by the deep bass notes of a samba throbbing from the dance floor below. Slipping off the bed, she padded across the rose petals, crushing them so that their scent rose in the erotically charged air.
‘You’ve made me wait too long,’ she complained, lifting her arms to rest her hands on Luke’s shoulders.
‘Not nearly long enough,’ he argued, teasing her as he dropped kisses on her neck.
But she forgave him when, lifting her, Luke flexed his knees and took her firmly. She fell at once, calling out his name and clinging to him as he held her safe in his powerful arms while she bucked uncontrollably.
‘Was that good?’ he mocked against her mouth when she had quietened.
‘When I can breathe again I’ll tell you,’ she gasped, but Luke gave her no chance to recover, and nothing more to do other than lock her arms around his neck as he took her smoothly and rhythmically to the edge of pleasure and beyond—not once, but several times.
‘Shall we take this to the bed?’ he said finally.
‘If you’re tired,’ she teased him.
‘I’m not in the least bit tired,’ Luke assured her. ‘I was thinking of you.’
‘Anywhere, any way, any time,’ she whispered.
Hours later it was dawn, and the house was quiet when she told him her news. ‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she whispered.
Luke stirred, and then lifted himself on one elbow to stare down at her. ‘How can you possibly know?’ he said.
‘I know—that’s all.’
‘And how long have you known?’ he persisted.
‘About five minutes. Didn’t I tell you that all Cornishwomen have magic powers?’
‘You’re only half-Cornish,’ Luke pointed out.
‘And the half that’s Cornish is my witchy self,’ she said, smiling. ‘We’re going to have a little girl, and we’re going to call her Demelza.’
Luke shook his head, murmuring to no one in particular, ‘I can’t pretend I didn’t know what I was getting into.’ But then his amber gaze darkened into concern. ‘Are you sure, Lucia? I don’t want you to be disappointed.’
‘I won’t be disappointed,’ she said confidently. ‘In nine months’ time you’ll be holding our child in your arms. I can already see her, Luke.’
‘In your imagination,’ Luke tempered patiently. ‘And we all know about your imagination—don’t we, Lucia?’
‘I’m a changed woman,’ she said. ‘I’m merely stating a fact.’
‘Remind me of that fact again in nine months’ time,’ Luke murmured, smiling as he reached for her. ‘Any views on your brothers?’ he teased her. ‘It may have escaped your witchy notice, but only two are left unmarried—Nacho and Kruz.’
‘I do have a view, as it happens,’ she said, putting on a dreamy stare. ‘Life is going to get a whole lot more exciting for all of us—especially Nacho.’
Luke scoffed. ‘Now I know you’re wrong. Nacho’s a confirmed bachelor.’
‘Is he?’ Lucia said, as if she knew something different.
‘Yes, he is,’ Luke insisted. ‘But let’s get back to us. I’ve got unfinished plans for you …’
‘I have plans for you,’ she countered, mounting up. ‘Now … Where are my spurs?’
