Til Death Do Us Part (49 page)

He carried her into the house, through the empty living room and down the hall. He kicked open the door to the only furnished room in the house. A huge, antique brass bed dominated the room. Roarke laid his wife on the bed and came down beside her.

She draped her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Simon. And I've missed you.”

“Ah, Cleo Belle, I've missed you like crazy.”

He started to kiss her again, but Cleo turned her head to one side.

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about the baby? I have to know.”

“I'm scared, honey. I messed up real bad at this father
business the first time around and my little girl died. I don't want to ever fail this child.” He laid his hand lovingly on Cleo's stomach. “You're going to have to help me. I won't ever be able to forget Laurie, and I'll never completely forgive myself for what happened to her. But maybe, if I'm a good father to our baby, I can somehow redeem myself.”

“I'm giving you a son,” she said. “I had the ultrasound done yesterday. He's perfect in every way and—”

Roarke kissed her again, and within minutes they lay naked atop the new beige sheets. They made love with a fast, furious frenzy the first time. But the second time they didn't hurry, as they learned each other all over again, pleasuring each other with slow, tormenting deliberation.

When the sun went down, they raided the refrigerator, the only appliance in the enormous farmhouse kitchen. And after they dined on milk and cereal, they returned to their bedroom and made love again.

At dawn, Roarke woke Cleo, wrapped her in the top sheet and carried her out onto the front porch. He sat down in the wooden rocker and held her in his lap. She laid her head on his shoulder and kissed the side of his neck.

“I wanted us to share the sunrise together on our first morning here at our new home.”

“I love you, Simon Roarke.”

“And I love you, my darling Cleo Belle.”

S
ITTING IN A
wooden rocking chair on his front porch, Simon Roarke watched his sons, six-year-old Johnny and three-year-old Jimmy, frolicking in the front yard with the family's Irish setters, Brady and Corey. The sun lay on the western horizon like a scoop of orange sherbet, the edges melting into a pool of luscious colors. The evening breeze cooled the summertime heat, but did little to lessen the humidity.

Cleo walked out onto the porch, carrying two glasses of lemonade. She handed one to her husband, then sat down beside him in a matching chair. Rocking slowly, she sipped the cool, tart liquid.

Roarke leaned over and kissed her. She sighed, deep in her throat. “What was that for?” she asked.

“That's for being the most wonderful woman in the world and making me the happiest man alive,” he said.

Cleo smiled broadly, and for one split second Roarke's heart stopped beating. Every time he looked at his wife, she took his breath away. Every time he touched her, he wanted to make love to her. And every time he thought about how much she'd given him, he ached inside with a pleasure almost too great to bear.

In the seven years since their hasty marriage of convenience, Roarke had gone from being a lonely, cynical man who lived his life on the edge, to a contented family
man, a gentleman farmer living the good life that had once been only a dream for him.

“Who've you been talking to on the phone for so long?” he asked.

“Aunt Beatrice for a while, and then Pearl.”

“What great news did those two have?”

“It seems Daphne got married again. To a European count this time.”

“What does this make—husband number four or five?”

“Four, I think,” Cleo said. “And Marla is pregnant. Isn't that wonderful? I think she and Trey are making a good life for themselves now that Trey's working at McNamara's again and they're living back at the house with Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Perry.”

“I agree, honey. I never thought Trey would change. But I have to admit that he's a different man from the one who tried to sabotage McNamara's.”

“I'm glad he accepted Uncle Perry's marriage to Aunt Beatrice. I was afraid he and Daphne would both create problems.”

“Daphne can't cause too many problems thousands of miles away, and I don't think you have to worry about Trey anymore.”

“Oh, Simon!” Cleo gasped.

“What's wrong?” he asked anxiously, then relaxed when she smiled at him.

Laughing, she took the glass out of his hand and set her glass and his on the small, wooden table at her side. She reached out, grasped his hand and laid it over her protruding belly.

He grinned when he felt his child move inside Cleo. “She's got some kick, hasn't she? She's going to be a feisty little gal, just like her mama.”

“Only two more months to wait for Miss Sara Ann
Roarke to make her debut.” Sighing contentedly as Simon rubbed her tummy, Cleo looked at her strong, healthy sons, both of them tall and big for their age. She knew they would grow to be large, handsome men like their father.

Johnny, their eldest, named after his paternal grandfather, was the spitting image of Simon, except for his auburn hair. Brown-haired Jimmy, their younger son, named after Cleo's dad, took after the McNamaras, with his fine, delicate features and his striking green eyes. They were perfect children at moments like this, and normal little heathens as a general rule.

Cleo was glad that their first two children had been boys. Simon would have had a more difficult time becoming a father again if they'd had a daughter the first time. Losing Laurie would always be a sorrow in Simon's soul, but realizing what a good father he was to the boys had helped him forgive himself and ease some of the guilt he'd always feel over his daughter's death. Now, after so many painful years of remorse and regret, he was ready to open his heart and love a new daughter. Sara Ann could never replace Laurie, but she would bring her father the joy only a little girl could give him.

Simon and Cleo were happier than either had once thought possible. From their deep and passionate love, they had created three children and shared a marriage that would last a lifetime.