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‘Do you want to fight it?’ she asked faintly, his silvery eyes mesmerising.
His mouth twisted in a bittersweet smile. ‘There have been times when I’ve thought the pain would be easier if I did, but, no, I don’t.’
This time she kissed him and his body throbbed with the contact. His hands ran over her breasts, the soft wool beneath his fingers moulding to the rounded globes and her nipples hard and engorged. She didn’t object when he tugged her dress upwards, helping him by lifting her arms as he pulled it over her head. Her lacy bra showed her breasts were fuller and her cleavage deeper, the firm mound of her belly making his breath catch in his throat. Her body was changing, to accommodate his son or daughter. The surge of possessive love expanded his chest and made it difficult to breathe.
‘Forde?’
‘You’re so beautiful, Nell,’ he whispered, his eyes brilliant with unshed tears. ‘So beautiful.’
They undressed each other slowly and completely, touching and tasting as they did so until they were both naked and trembling with desire. Then she climbed on top of him on the sofa where they were lying, sitting astride him as she lowered herself onto the proud rod of his erection.
Her body was warm, unbelievably soft and welcoming as it accepted him, and as she began to move he struggled to keep control so she was fulfilled along with him. He could see the pleasure in her face and it was almost more erotic than he could bear, his body shaking as his muscles clenched against the release it was aching for.
He felt her climax and went with her, their sanity shattering into pure sensation and then reforming in the aftermath of drugged passion. It was a few moments after she had snuggled against him before either of them could speak. ‘Wow,’ murmured Forde huskily. ‘Tell me this isn’t a dream and I’m going to wake up in a minute back at the house.’
‘It’s real.’ She shivered as she spoke and he reached for the throw hanging over t
he back of the sofa, wrapping it round them as she settled her head on his chest. Within moments she was fast asleep, just the odd spit and crackle from the fire disturbing the pine-scented stillness. He glanced at the basket. The cat was sleeping too amid the folds of the blanket, its small striped body barely moving with each breath.
I owe you, Forde told it silently. And now you’ve got me this far I’m not leaving.
The room was all dancing shadows, the flickering flames of the fire and the lights on Melanie’s Christmas tree creating a soothing, womblike feeling. Outside the wind continued to moan and howl, and now sleet was hurling itself against the windows with a ferocity that made the room even warmer and cosier in comparison to the storm outside.
Holding Melanie close, he shut his eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A DISTANT vibration brought Melanie out of a satisfying dream. She opened sleepy eyes to find she was lying with her cheek on Forde’s hairy chest and with her body snuggled into his side like a little animal burying itself into the source of its comfort, his heartbeat still echoing in her head. She didn’t let herself think for a few moments, relishing the feel and smell of him and the fact that he was here, with her. The baby moved, the flutterings the strongest yet, as though it knew its father was close.
And then she smiled to herself at such fanciful imaginings.
She raised her head carefully to look at Tabitha, aware she and Forde must have slept for an hour or more, but the cat was still sound asleep. The vet had said the best medicine for her was food and rest; if only they could make sure she had a few days of both before she delivered her kittens they might all make it, along with their mother. Please, please, God, let this be a happy ending, she prayed silently. I want a happy ending for once. She’s only a little cat—don’t take her before her life has really begun. And the kittens, let them live to grow and play and feel the sun on their fur in the summer. Please.
Forde had said Tabitha knew she could trust them to look after her, that she needed someone to love her unconditionally. She knew now why his words had struck such a chord in her. It was how Forde was with her; from the day they had met he had put her needs before his, in the bedroom and out of it, and his love had been unlimited and without reservation.
She drew in a shuddering breath, her mind clearer than it had been for months.
After Matthew had died her guilt and remorse had turned her mind and heart inwards. She’d been so wrapped up in her own culpability and self-condemnation, so convinced she was a jinx and that Forde would be better off without her, that she hadn’t considered she might be wrong. She’d been too self-centred. Wrapped up in her own grief, she hadn’t taken on board he was suffering too, not really, not as she should have. She had learnt a lot about herself over the last weeks with Miriam, and some of it had been hard to take.
But Forde didn’t see her as she saw herself. He loved her. Utterly. Absolutely. As he’d told her to love Tabitha—unconditionally. When she had left him he had told her he would never let her go, that she could divorce him, flee to the other side of the world, refuse to see or talk to him, but he would never give up trying to make her see sense and come back to him. It had panicked her then, terrified her even. But now …
She raised her head and stared at his sleeping face.
Now she was humbly and eternally grateful. Her hand went to the swell of her belly wherein their child lay. And she could never walk away from her baby and its father. How could she have considered such a possibility even for a moment? But deep inside she’d always known she wouldn’t have the strength to give her baby up. That had been what had really frightened her once she’d known she was pregnant, because then she had still believed she was a curse on those she loved.
And now? a little voice outside herself asked insistently. What did she believe now? Because if she went back to Forde it had to be with all her body, soul and spirit. She’d asked for a happy ending for Tabitha but she had to believe in one for herself. Believe she could trust Forde implicitly, give him that little part of herself she had always kept back. Could she do that?
She heard a scratching sound and raised her head again. Tabitha was awake and turning round and round in the basket and Melanie could have sworn there was a faintly worried expression on the cat’s delicate face. Tabitha gave a little cry that was more of a yowl than a miaow, and then jumped out of the basket and disappeared behind the other sofa.
Oh, no. Melanie sat bolt upright and in so doing woke Forde, who mumbled dazedly, ‘What the… Nell?’
‘I think Tabitha’s going to have her kittens.’ Even to herself her voice sounded thick with fear. ‘It’s too soon, Forde. I wanted her to have some days of good food and rest. What are we going to do?’
Forde sat up, swinging his feet onto the carpet and raking back his hair. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, eyeing the empty basket.
‘Behind the other sofa. The vet said she might hide.’
He stood up naked as the day he was born and walked across the room, peering over the back of the sofa. Damn it, Nell was right. The cat was behaving exactly as the vet had warned it might. They had all been hoping they could have a few days of feeding her up but it looked as if time had run out.
