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‘Special permission, eh?’ He kissed her nose, his voice teasing to disguise the gratification he felt at being included. ‘This is pure you, you know,’ he said tenderly, ‘finally telling me you love me in a hospital waiting room with a blizzard outside and your sister just having given birth. It should have been over an intimate meal for two with wine and candles and guitars throbbing in the background.’
Willow giggled. ‘You told me you loved me in the middle of a freezing cold ploughed field when we were having a row,’ she reminded him.
‘Oh, boy, do we have a lot to make up for…’ He took her face in his big hands, smiling shakily as he murmured, ‘But in for a penny, in for a pound. This should be done with music and a ring to hand and me on one knee but I have to know. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife, to have and to hold for ever?’
Somewhere outside their room a bell was being rung impatiently; someone was clattering along with what sounded like a trolley in the corridor and the odd baby or two were crying in the background. The smell of antiseptic was strong along with that faint odour peculiar to all hospitals, which was impossible to pin down. Willow thought she had never been in such a perfect place. ‘Yes,’ she said, taking his lips in a kiss that was fierce. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’
Beth’s squeal of delight brought the nurse running when Willow gave her sister the news after she and Morgan had held David Peter for a moment or two. For such a big man, Morgan had held the tiny infant with a tender delicacy that had wrenched her heart. She’d had a vision of the future, of Morgan cradling their own baby with the same sweet gentleness, and it had reduced her to tears. Not that it mattered. Tears and smiles and laughter were flowing with abandon and had infected everyone with the same weakness.
By the time she and Morgan returned to the waiting room Willow felt dizzy with happiness. That and tiredness. It was now gone three in the morning. She felt ridiculously hungry too but the hospital restaurant and café didn’t open for breakfast for another five hours. Morgan found a snack machine and returned with crisps, chocolate bars and two paper cups holding a murky brown liquid that purported to be hot chocolate.
She sat on Morgan’s lap and they fed each other the food between kisses, cocooned in a couple of blankets the nurse had kindly brought them. They didn’t talk about the past or the future; that could come later. They had time now, for everything. But tonight only the present mattered; being in each other’s arms, able to kiss and touch and breathe the other’s warmth.
If this wasn’t heaven, it was close enough, Willow thought as she snuggled against his chest and shut her eyes. Thank goodness for Beth wanting her tonight, thank goodness for the snow and her car not starting and the fact it was the weekend and Morgan had been home; thank goodness that against all the odds she had found the one man who could release her from the past and make her life complete.
She settled herself more comfortably within the circle of Morgan’s arms and within moments she was asleep, a half-smile on her lips and her body curled trustingly into his.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEY got married on Christmas Eve at the little parish church in the village. How Morgan managed to pull everything together so quickly, Willow didn’t know. It wasn’t just the paperwork and legal stuff, but persuading the vicar to fit in the marriage service between the three carol concerts the church was holding that day that amazed her. She suspected a hefty donation towards the church-roof fund might have had something to do with it. Certainly the vicar seemed happy enough.
Willow wore a mermaid-style dress in pale gold guipure lace with a fake-fur-lined matching cloak and hood, and carried a Christmas bouquet. Peter was giving her away and as they reached the church and heard the organ music as they stood outside she gripped his arm tightly. ‘Oh, Peter.’
‘Everything’s going to be fine,’ he reassured her softly, ‘and you look beautiful. You’ll take his breath away.’
She smiled at him tremulously. She had no doubts about what she was doing but she suddenly felt so emotional as she looked at the arch of Christmas garlands hung round the church door. The December day was bitterly cold but sparkling with sunshine and the winter sky was as blue as Morgan’s eyes. She hoped her parents knew how happy she was, how happy both she and Beth were. She hoped they knew they had their first grandchild, and that she was thinking of them on this special day. She hoped…oh, lots of things.
‘Ready?’ Peter smiled down at her and she nodded. As they stepped into the church’s tiny inner porch the music changed, announcing her arrival, and just for a second she remembered that other wedding. She’d worn a full meringue-style dress in white satin with a long veil that day and they’d had nearly three hundred guests to the reception. Piers had insisted on a very formal and grand affair and her five bridesmaids and two flower girls had been schooled by him—as had she—not to put a foot wrong. She’d felt nervous and tense all day and the dress had been too tight, the speeches too long and she’d developed a blinding headache before the day was half through. Piers, on the other hand, had been in his element.
