THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE (20 page)

“Just like it has, at last, tonight.”

“Exactly.”

“And you weren’t ready to do that yet.”

“No.”

“But tonight...?”

“I knew I had to tell you.”

“Because...?”

“Because you didn’t come home last night. Because I was afraid I had lost you, lost you without ever telling you what you mean to me. I knew last night that if—
when—
we brought you back to us, there would be no more putting it off.”

The tears came then. She swiped them away. “Come here. Right now.” She grabbed him against her, jostling her injured ankle in the process. “Ow!”

He tried to pull away. “Your ankle...”

She pulled him close again. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“Wrap your arms around me, Rafe. Do it now.”

He kicked off his shoes, swung his long legs up on the bed and gathered her into his embrace. “Satisfied?”

She kissed his throat, his chin, his mouth. She traced the crescent scar and he didn’t object or try to stop her. And then she said, “I’m in love with you, too. Maybe I’ve always been in love with you, from the very first, when I was only five. However long it’s been that I’ve been yours in my heart, I couldn’t let myself admit that you were the one I loved. I thought it was Hartmore that I longed for. I was such a fool.”

“No.”

“Yes. I was. A fool. I couldn’t see my love for you until after you married me and we had a life together and I realized that somehow, in spite of my own idiocy and pigheadedness, I had gotten exactly what I wanted, what I needed, whom I loved. I used to be blind. But I’m not blind now. I love you with all my heart, Rafe. And I only want to be exactly where I am—and I’m not talking about Hartmore. I would be your wife if we both woke up tomorrow without Hartmore, without a penny to our names. I would still count myself a lucky woman, as long as I could be at your side in the daytime, and in your big arms at night.”

He pulled her closer. “It won’t be a problem. I’m going nowhere. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good. That’s exactly my plan.”

“Forever, Gen.”

“Yes, Rafe. Forever and always. We are together in all the ways that matter. We have the truth, together. We have love and commitment and family—and a little one on the way. And nothing and no one can ever tear us apart.”

Epilogue

December 18

G
enny told Rory goodbye and hung up the phone. Outside, night was falling. A light snow drifted down.

Brooke, over at the window, looked up from the baby she held in her arms. “Thomas Richard DeValery. I like it. And I swear. Two days old and he already looks just like Rafe.”

Genny chuckled. “Oh, he’s a handsome one, all right.”

Brooke came back to the bed and gently put Tommy into his bassinet. She gazed down at him adoringly. “I think I’m going to love being an auntie.”

Genny sighed and settled back against the pillows. “It’s wonderful, believe me. Aunties get all the glory and they rarely have to say the word
no.
”

“Yes.” Brooke slanted her a grin. “Being an auntie is definitely for me—and how are you feeling?”

“As though I’ve been run down by a lorry. But it’s better every day. I had to walk up and down hospital hallways more than once before they’d let us out of there.”

“Take it easy.”

“Well, Brooke. You know that’s not my style.”

Brooke made a face at her. “You’ve always been disgustingly resilient. I had postpartum with Geoffrey. It was grim. But I know you’ll be up and singing Christmas carols by tomorrow morning, checking on the roof project, telling everyone what to do.”

“And you’d better do what I tell you to,” Genny advised. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

Brooke said, “You’re such a bitch.”

And Genny said, “It’s good that we have so much in common.” And they both started laughing—until Genny put her hand to her stomach and groaned. “Don’t make me laugh. Not for a day or two yet anyway.”

The door out in the sitting room opened and shut. Rafe appeared. Genny’s heart lifted just at the sight of him. “Geoffrey’s looking for you,” he said to his sister. “He wants your help wrapping presents. The Sellotape is not cooperating. Granny said she’d help, but he claims you wrap the prettiest packages and he wants his to look as good as yours.”

“I’m on it. Genevra, are you hungry? I can have something sent up....”

“Thanks. Not right now.”

Rafe said, “I’ll see that she eats something later.” Brooke left them. Rafe took her place by the bassinet. “Look at him. Sleeping so peacefully. Not a care in the world...”

She held out her hand. Rafe came around and sat beside her on the bed.

He said in a bemused tone, “My sister is happy.” Brooke had been getting counseling and it had really paid off for her.

“Yes, she is.”

“Will wonders never cease?”

“It’s good to see her doing so well.”

“That she wants to be a therapist is a little surprising.” He looked vaguely concerned—for Brooke or her future patients, Genny couldn’t be sure.

Genny shrugged. “She wants to help others now she’s finding out what it’s like to clear out all the old emotional baggage. I think she’ll be a good therapist—and come closer.”

He leaned toward her just a little.

“Closer,” she whispered. He bent near enough that their lips could touch. She kissed him, just a light brush of her mouth across his. Her heart felt so full of love. It filled her up, spilling over, bringing light and goodness and complete happiness. She reached up and stroked his scarred cheek. The scar was no more than a thin red line now. In time, it would almost disappear. Or so the plastic surgeon had promised.

He asked, “What did Rory have to say?”

“She told me all about her adventures up in the Rocky Mountains with Walker.”

“Walker?” Rafe frowned.

“Yes, Walker, the rancher and trail guide and search-and-rescue expert. It all sounded very exciting—but she’s back in Justice Creek now. The wedding’s on Saturday.” Their Bravo cousin, Clara, was marrying Walker’s younger brother, Ryan. “And then she’ll fly straight back to Montedoro for Max and Lani’s wedding.”

He asked, “Are you sad to have to miss your brother’s wedding?” Max was getting married two days before Christmas.

“A little. But I knew all along that, with Tommy coming, I wouldn’t be able to make it. And besides, I’ll have Christmas with you at Hartmore.” She gestured toward the window. “And it looks as though there will even be snow.”

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He wasn’t looking out the window.

“Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Dark eyes held hers. “Merry Christmas, love. For this year, and all of our years to come.”

* * * * *

Watch for Rory and Walker’s story,
A BRAVO CHRISTMAS WEDDING,
coming in December 2014,
only from Harlequin Special Edition.

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE LAST-CHANCE MAVERICK by Christyne Butler.

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Prologue

Carrollton Cancer Center, Philadelphia,
PA
Eleven months ago

“O
kay, read it to me...” Adele’s voice faded for a moment as she struggled to speak against the plastic mask covering her nose and mouth that supplied her with fresh oxygen. “...again. We need to finish our list.”

Vanessa Brent swallowed hard against the lump in her throat that refused to go away. Every time she walked into this room—as plush and beautiful and unlike a hospital room as a sun-filled space could be—she had the same physical reaction and it stayed with her until she’d left again.

One would think after three months of being here on a daily basis she’d be used to the sight of her best friend fighting a battle they’d recently accepted she wasn’t going to win. That she’d be able to sit here, hold Adele’s hand and do as she asked.

“All of it?” Glad her words managed to find their way around the obstacle in her throat, Vanessa glanced at the aged piece of paper she held in her hand. Titled “Adele and Vanessa’s Bucket List, created July 4, 2001, Secret Clubhouse, Vanessa’s Attic, Chestnut Hill, PA,” the well-creased, lined sheet of notebook paper was covered with two distinct styles of handwriting, one belonging to her twelve-year-old self and the other a more mature scrawl. “Or just the things we’ve added?”

They’d discovered the childhood list one day while going through some forgotten boxes in Vanessa’s loft apartment. Back when they’d thought Adele had once again beaten the childhood cancer that returned at the tender age of twenty-five, but then went into remission after treatment.

That had been just before Easter. By early June Adele was back in the hospital, but during those few precious weeks they’d managed to check off some of the items on their list.

“Start at the beginning.” Adele turned to look at her, the bright red silk scarf protecting her sensitive scalp brushing against the pillow. “Let’s review...what we’ve done...so far.”

Taking a deep breath, she started reading. “Number one—dance beneath the Eiffel Tower. I did that back in college the year I studied abroad,” Vanessa said, thankful she had a photograph to honor the event as she technically didn’t remember doing so thanks to generous amounts of wine that night. “Number two—swim in the Pacific Ocean. You did that when you were in college.”

Adele smiled, but remained silent.

“Number three—get a tattoo.” Letting go, she flipped her hand and laid it side by side next her friend’s, their matching interlocking heart tattoos visible on their inner wrists. “Number four—see a Broadway show. By ourselves.”

They’d done both on a last-minute road trip to New York City that Adele had insisted on in May not long after they’d found their long forgotten list.

“Shouldn’t have taken us...until age twenty-five to accomplish—” her friend rasped “—either of those.”

“Considering how unhappy your mother was with us for taking off without telling her, not to mention our permanent souvenirs, we’re lucky she didn’t ground us when we got home like she used to do when we were kids.”

“I think my mom was more worried because of me being in remission. Your father never said a word.”

Vanessa wasn’t even sure her father had even realized she’d left the city, much less inked her body. “Okay, let’s see. We did go to Disney World on our senior class trip so that counted for number five. I was lucky enough to visit the White House and shake hands with the president during an art exhibit a few years back. Number six. I attempted to learn to scuba dive while visiting Australia the summer before my mother—well, before she got sick, so that covers numbers seven and eight.”

“That’s right. So you swam in the Pacific Ocean, too.”

“Well, technically, it was the Tasman Sea. It doesn’t count. So, other than the first eight, we haven’t managed to accomplish the rest of the 2001 list.” While Vanessa was sure that flying among the clouds (and not in an airplane!) was a childish wish that would never come true, she guessed moving out west, learning to ride a horse and the last goal, kissing a cowboy, were still possible. At least for her.

She swallowed hard again, but the unfairness of it all kept the lump firmly in place. “You know, judging from the last few items, I think we watched too many old Westerns back when we were twelve.”

“I always liked John Wayne. The strong, silent type,” Adele said. “So how many...do we have so far now? With the new ones included?”

“The original twelve and the eight we added while in New York.” Vanessa read through the rest of the list. When her friend had insisted on updating it with new goals that weekend, they’d truly believed both of them would have time to accomplish things like going skinny-dipping, being part of a flash mob or dancing in the rain. Knowing now that her friend was never going to be able to accomplish any of them... “I think twenty is a good number.”

“No. Need four more. Twelve old and twelve new.”

“Well, number twenty is to see an active volcano. I don’t know how we’re—” Vanessa’s voice caught again, but she pushed on. “How we’re going to top that.”

“Number twenty-one—take a bubble bath...with a man.”

She couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s words as she propped her sketchbook on the edge of Adele’s bed, using it as a base to write on. “How do you know I haven’t done that already?”

“Because you would’ve told me. Best friends tell each other everything.”

Vanessa nodded. “You’re right. And I think that might top the volcano experience.”

“Number twenty-two—kiss...Prince Charming and number twenty-three...” Adele’s voice fell to a whisper, barely heard over the steady beeping from the row of machines on the far side of her bed. “...have a baby. Or two. Or three.”

Vanessa blinked rapidly against the sting of tears, struggling to see clearly enough to add them to the list. Adele’s words brought back the memory of how each of them, being only children, had always wished for younger siblings. That shared secret, revealed on the day they first met when Adele’s mother had come to work for Vanessa’s as a social secretary, had sealed their lifelong friendship. She still remembered the afternoon she’d returned from a ballet lesson and found a scrawny girl, her flaming red hair in braids and wearing a hand-me-down dress with dirt on her knees, sitting on the silk tufted bench in the grand foyer of Vanessa’s home reading
Little Women
.

“And number twenty-four...fall in love forever.”

Vanessa’s fingers tightened on the pen until she was sure it would break. She tried to write the last goal, but the page was too blurry.

Then Adele’s fingers brushed against the back of her hand. She latched onto her friend’s cool touch and pressed Adele’s hand to her heated cheek. “That’s...that’s quite a list.”

“It’s not a list. It’s a life. Your life.” Adele’s voice became strong and clear, more than it has been in days. “It’s time for you to get back to it.”

“Adele—”

“You’ve been with me constantly over the last year. I’m surprised you’ve found time to get any painting done, not that I want you to jump back into your crazy work schedule.” She paused for another breath. “And I know it’s you I have to thank for being as comfortable with this outrageously expensive hospital room. My mom and I are so grateful—”

“Oh, shut up,” Vanessa admonished her friend gently, her gaze still on the blurred list. “You know I would pay anything—
do
anything
—to have you well again.”

Adele jiggled on Vanessa’s hand, signaling she wanted her attention. Vanessa brushed away the tears before looking at her friend who’d tugged the plastic mask from her face.

“What’s that saying? We only have one shot at life, but if we do it right once is enough? You know better than most—especially now—how quickly life can be taken away,” Adele said, her voice low and strained. “Don’t get so lost in your art after I’m gone that you forget about all the wonderful things waiting out there for you.”

“I still have three pieces to finish,” Vanessa said, the familiar argument returning once again. One that had started years ago between them when she’d spent her thirteenth birthday working on a painting instead of attending a school dance. “You know how I get before a show. This is an important one, too. People are coming from Europe, the Far East—”

“You’ve been painting since you were a kid,” Adele cut her off. “You were a star in the art world at seventeen and we both know that’s because you buried yourself in your art after your mom died. Please don’t do that again. Thanks to your gift and your trust fund, you’re set for...life. It’s time to live it.”

“You make me sound like a nun or something.”

“You’re not too far off. What happened to that fun-loving girl you were a few years ago?”

Vanessa’s memory flashed back to her time in Paris. “That was college, Adele. Being foolish and wild was part of the curriculum back then. Now, it’s about my work.”

“There’s more to life...than work. Than art.”

Vanessa had heard all of this before. Adele had always been supportive of her career, especially during the darkest moment in her life after her mother died when Vanessa was only sixteen, but she also constantly reminded her there was more to the world than her beloved brushes and paints.

“Art
is
my life, Adele. It’s what got me through the pain and the heartache last time.” She pulled in a deep breath, but her eyes filled again. “I’m counting on it to help me again.... Oh, how am I going to...”

Adele tightened her hold. “Please, don’t be sad...for too long. We’ve talked about this. That’s why I insisted we finish our list. I want you to go out there and experience all the things we’ve dreamed about. I want you to put check marks by every single one of those items.”

The fact that her friend was spending her last days thinking of her made the constant ache inside Vanessa fracture a bit more, sending icy tentacles deeper and further, their frozen tips scraping at her heart. The feeling was a familiar one, felt for the first time since almost a decade ago.

The time from her mother’s diagnosis to her death had been less than eight months, barely any time for them—her or her parents—to come to terms with the illness that would take her life. While her father had thrown himself into his work after the funeral, Vanessa had done the same, her art allowing her a way to express her pain and grief.

Back then she’d poured all her fears onto the canvas in the back of her mind, she too worried that she might die young. Though genetic testing reassured her she was unlikely to develop the same disease, and her time in her studio produced magnificent pieces of abstract art that made her famous, for years, Vanessa had been unable to shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen to her.

She’d never dreamed it would be the loss of her best friend.

It was Adele who’d helped her pick out a prom dress, who came to visit her at art school, who got her to laugh again when the someone she’d thought was her true love had broken her heart. Even more than her father, Adele and her mother, Susan, had become Vanessa’s lifeline. They’d been there for every birthday, every holiday and now...

“Come on...promise me.”

Adele started to cough and quickly shoved the oxygen mask back into place. Vanessa shot to her feet and bracing herself on the bed, gently laid her hand over her friend’s, making sure the device was working properly. “Hey, take it easy.”

Adele held up her hand, fingers curled in a fist except for the last, her pinky finger extended into a hook. She looked up, her deep green eyes locking with Vanessa’s. “A solemn vow between best friends.”

Vanessa saw a lifetime bond that went beyond friendship in her friend’s gaze. Adele was the sister she’d never had. They knew each other’s secrets, fears and dreams. They’d shared late night whispers, dried each other’s tears and laughed together more times than she could count. “You make it sound like this is my last chance to have a life.”

“No, but maybe it’s a second chance. How many do you think we get? Just promise you’ll work hard to be happy...to fulfill our list.”

Vanessa wrapped her pinky finger around her friend’s and dropped her forehead to rest against Adele’s as both squeezed tight and held on. “I promise.”