Liar's Moon (27 page)

EPILOGUE

S
he came to him in darkness, in the coolness of the night, beneath the glowing cast of the moon.

He could almost reach out and touch her. Smell the sweet aroma of her perfume, feel the curve of her breast, the whisper of her caress.

He saw her smile. Standing in the doorway, framed by the glow of the moon. A full moon tonight. Huge and silver and shimmering. Casting its benign eye upon love and lovers, come full season at last. A love that had endured and conquered endless sins.

That moon, that ancient moon. It played so beautifully against her—against her silhouette. She paused there in the doorway and slowly bent to cast her heels away. He saw the grace of her feline stretch, the supple shape of her legs, and heard the soft thud of her shoes as they fell.

She came into the room then, slow again, elegant in her walk, easy, luxurious, unhurried. So confident, so sensual. She came that way to the center of the room, where that full moon could fall upon her from the bay window that opened to the garden, to the night breeze. She reached for the string of her gown at her nape, releasing it, shaking back the lustrous waves of her hair as she did so.

The gown fell to become a pool at her feet. Beneath it,
she was naked. No slip, no teddy, no frothing lace, no stockings. Just bare and elegant beneath the moon glow
…
a glow falling upon her breasts, the fullness of their shape, the firmness, the beauty against the slender curves of her body. Skin like satin, taut and sleek, so
breathtaking. Everything…
everything about her so perfect. The slope of her shoulders, the line of her back, the flare of her hip.

Her eyes were indigo. Sparkling, reflecting, catching the moonbeams, so deep and dark, so touched by brilliance. He knew, because he came to her, scarcely able to breathe. Touched her shoulders and felt her trembling.

Touched her, his love, his wife.

The very essence of him—his wife.

They smiled to one another beneath that moon, smiled with deep understanding, unspoken knowledge.

No love could be deeper.

He took her into his arms, kissed her—and it was, as always, just like that first kiss. Deep and shattering, evocative. Her hair brushed his chest in silk, her touch made him quake.

She raised her hand, spreading her fingers. He raised his own. They hesitated, touched, entwined together.

From the open window the breeze blew in, the fresh scent of roses. Clean and sweet and wonderful.

They walked to the bed, curled upon it, loved upon it. Touch for touch, kiss for kiss. Sweet remembrance, soaring new heights. The wonder, the awe, the beauty.

And all that came after. A time to hold, a time to cherish. To be blissfully aware of all that was theirs, for time had taught them loss and pain, and yet time had taught them, too, that love could well prevail.

Leif lay awake after she slept. Staring at the window, to the drapes fluttering there. To the moon, full and new
and high in the sky. He stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead, and thought what a heaven they had here. In their rooms.

Oh, not in the house. The house was full. Jamie was back from his latest tour of Europe, occupying half of the west wing with all his equipment. Anthony had been with them for some time, and Katie had thrilled again to the patter of toddling footsteps and greasy handmarks all over the place again.

Audrey was here, too, now. Looking too slim, but smiling easily, and as beautiful as ever. Leif had invited Arthur down for the weekend.

In the darkness he smiled, for Audrey was not alone. After so, so many years, it seemed that she and Tiger were becoming very speci
al friends. He hoped so. Tiger—
the old bachelor—needed to settle down. And Audrey deserved some happiness.

Then, of course, there was Liz.

Leif frowned absently, hoping that he wasn’t interfering with others’ lives. But it had seemed that Liz and Sam spent more and more time talking together. That Liz smiled more like a girl when Sam was at the door.

Mayb
e it was nothing—but maybe…

He smiled to himself a little sheepishly in the darkness. He was just so damned happy. He wanted everyone else to be happy, too. To know what it was like to feel this wonderful emotion of loving—and being cherished in return.

He closed his eyes again. A full house. Jamie, Blake, Anthony—and Jessica.

In a few minutes, he knew, like clockwork, Tracy would stir. Leif still couldn’t fathom it—she simply had some kind of inner mechanism that warned her when the baby would awake.

Jessica was nearly four months old. And she was stunning. Blue, blue—endlessly blue—eyes, and a mop of strawberry blond curls. And when Tracy wasn’t out playing with the boys, she was with Jessica, and Leif never said a word because Tracy would look at him and he would know. She had never been able to share in Blake when he was a baby. This time was very precious to her.

And, of course, he was endlessly proud of her, too. She had that very special beauty that belonged to Audrey and Tracy. She charmed, she captivated, she would never grow old.

And she would never be hurt the way that Tracy had been hurt, Leif vowed. She and Blake would be chastised and loved, held under a strict thumb—sometimes given their way. There would be problems, there would be joys. But above it all was that very, very special quality.

They were a family. Committed, caring.

Blessed.

It had been a long hard road.

But they had come home.

Beside him, Tracy stirred. He smiled above her and kissed her. In silent agreement, they donned their robes and tiptoed down the hall.

First to Blake’s room. He always got a kiss first, even though he was sleeping. Tracy was determined that he would never think that there was any favoritism going on.

Then they joined hands again to go for the baby in her canopied crib.

But just before Tracy plucked her from her snug nest of blankets, she turned to Leif with no words but a radiant smile. She kissed him quickly, and he knew that she was thinking the same thing.

We have come home, my love.