On the First Night of Christmas... (21 page)

Cassie covered his hand, threaded her fingers through his and held on, but refused to shed the tears that burned the backs of her eyes and blocked her throat. ‘Jace, that wasn’t love. Real love isn’t a burden. It isn’t a punishment. It doesn’t hurt. Not intentionally. It heals.’

He stared at her, the muscles in his jaw tensing. ‘How can you be sure?’ he asked. And she knew in that moment she wasn’t talking to the strong, confident, charismatic man, but to the angry and frightened child who had been taught to associate love with something twisted and ugly, a perverted mockery of the real thing.

‘Because I love you, Jace. And I know that I would do everything in my power to stop you from being hurt.’

He closed his eyes, let his head drop back. As if absorbing the words. Then he huffed out a strained laugh and slanted her a sideways look. ‘Apart from breaking my foot, you mean.’

Her lips tilted, joy surging through her. ‘That was an accident. You shouldn’t have stuck your foot in the doorway.’

She stroked her hands down his cheeks, then placed her lips on his, putting all the love and longing she felt into the slow, tender kiss.

His hands grasped her head and he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss. She opened for him, her tongue tangling with his, tasting his need and desperation as the hot rush of desire eddied up from her core. And the love bloomed inside her, like a garden leaving winter behind and welcoming spring.

This was right. He was right. She hadn’t imagined his feelings. They had been as strong as her own. He just hadn’t been able to articulate them, because of a childhood marred by violence that had left him terrified to admit them. To even identify them.

He lifted his head, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark with much more than desire. ‘I couldn’t get on that plane and leave you behind, even though I tried to make myself.’ His eyes roamed over her face. ‘When I’m with you, you make me feel that I’m a better person than I’ll ever be without you.’ His eyes met hers at last and she could see the depth of emotion reflected in them. ‘I don’t want to tell you I love you, because in the end they’re just words to me. Words that I’ve never trusted. But I can tell you I want to be with you. I want to try and make this work. Whatever
this
is,’ he said, sounding unsure of himself, and desperately vulnerable. ‘Is that enough for you?’

Tears welling in her eyes, she gave a delighted chuckle. ‘That’s more than enough.’

As he hugged her close, buried his head in her hair and murmured, ‘Thank God for that,’ she wondered if he had any idea that he’d just told her he loved her in every way that mattered.

EPILOGUE

‘T
HIS
is the absolute last stop,’ Jace murmured into his wife’s hair, breathing in the cinnamon scent as they stood on the pavement, admiring Selfridges’ Christmas window display. ‘You’ve got exactly ten minutes to enjoy the view and then I’m hauling you back to the hotel,’ he said firmly, determined not to get sidetracked again. ‘No arguments, Mrs Ryan.’ He spanned his hands across the firm mound of her belly and drew her back against his chest, his heart jolting into his throat—as it always did when he thought of the child growing inside her. ‘
I
don’t care how many presents you’ve still got to buy.’ They’d been Christmas shopping for three solid hours by his count, and he wanted her back at The Chesterton with her feet up for the rest of the day, before they headed to Nessa and Terrence’s place tomorrow for the annual Christmas Day get-together. After the six-hour flight from New York the day before, he was still struggling with jet lag so she must be too.

And she was seven months pregnant for heaven’s sake. She had to be exhausted.

Cassie laughed and leaned into him. Her palms covered the backs of his hands. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m absolutely fine. And so is Junior.’ She tilted her head. ‘Now, what do you think of that little red fire engine?’ she asked, pointing at the display of traditional children’s toys expertly arranged around a silver Christmas tree.

‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Pulling her round to face him, he slipped his hands beneath her heavy wool coat and held her against him, the round swell of her belly butting his stomach. ‘We’re not going back in there. The baby’s not due ’til February. It can do without a Christmas present.’ He kissed her forehead, trying to keep a grip on his frustration. The woman was addicted to Christmas shopping and he wasn’t going to feed her damn addiction a moment longer. ‘And anyway, the doctor wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that was a penis on the scan. It might be a girl.’

‘Who says girls can’t like fire engines?’ she announced. ‘You never know, if we have a daughter she might want to be a firefighter.’ Flattening her hands against the emerald cashmere she’d bought him three Christmases ago, she grinned up at him. His heart did the little flip-flop it always did when he looked into her expressive face and saw the love she never disguised. ‘But that’ll have to be next time,’ she purred, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Because believe me, that was definitely a penis.’

He huffed out a strained laugh, his throat thickening at the memory of that grainy three-dimensional image. But the mention of a ‘next time’ had the twin tides of terror and excitement surging past his larynx and threatening to cut off his air supply.

Just as they’d been doing consistently for the last seven months. Ever since she’d sat in his lap in their loft apartment in the East Village one morning, wrapped her arms round his shoulders with a calm and decidedly smug smile on her face and announced they were having a baby.

It shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. They’d been discussing parenthood for months and—after Cassie had managed to talk him off the ledge of abject panic her original suggestion had caused and finally convinced him that there wasn’t a damn thing stopping him from being a decent father—they had agreed to stop using contraception two weeks before. But even so, no way was he contemplating doing this again until Junior was safely out and about—and quite possibly choosing college courses.

‘There’s not going to be next time,’ he said. ‘Not until my blood pressure is back to normal.

And certainly not until you learn to behave appropriately when you’re seven months pregnant.’

A tiny frown creased her brow. ‘But I just have to—’

‘No, you don’t,’ he interrupted.

‘Only one more …’ She shifted, trying to make a break for it, but he held on, keeping her firmly plastered against him.

‘We can come back after Christmas for the sales,’ he said, although he’d be reserving judgement on that if she didn’t get enough sleep in the next few days. ‘But there’ll be no more shopping today. I can see how exhausted you are.’

Her lips formed into a mutinous pout, so he dipped his head, touched his forehead to hers and brought out the big guns. ‘I love you to bits, Mrs Cassidy Ryan. And I love this baby—with or without a penis. And there’s no way I’m risking the only two things I care about in this world because you are a shopaholic.’

She melted against him, as he knew she would, and let out a heavy sigh. ‘That’s not playing fair.’ Her hands lifted to caress the side of his head, her fingers threading into his hair as his hands settled on her waist. ‘You know I can’t resist when you say things like that.’

He chuckled. ‘Tough.’

To think he’d once found it so hard to say the words to her.

He was so far removed from that man now— he could barely remember him. The man who’d hidden his resentment and his loneliness and his inadequacy behind a veneer of arrogance and lazy charm, and had been so terrified of commitment he’d refused to nurture the simplest of relationships. Cassie had come into his life and changed everything. In the space of three years all the fear and anger and guilt of his childhood had faded to be replaced by a happiness, a contentment, a companionship he had never even believed existed. She was his soul mate, his kindred spirit and every wet dream he’d ever had—all rolled into one.

Because he knew how lucky he was to have found her. He told Cassie he loved her whenever he felt like it now. Which was so damn often, he was in danger of becoming a Hallmark card. But he didn’t care. Because it was the truth. And if telling her made her putty in his hands—well, that was just a nice fringe benefit, which he was more than prepared to use whenever the need arose.

Slinging an arm over her shoulder, he directed her away from Selfridges’ imposing art deco facade and hailed a cab, secure in the knowledge that he’d won. For now.

‘Come on.’ He hugged her, kissed the top of her hair. ‘This store has been here close to a century. It’ll still be here on Boxing Day. I promise.’

Cassie snuggled under Jace’s arm as he shouted out their destination to the taxi driver and let his warmth wrap around her. She flexed her feet in her boots, her arches screaming in agony, rubbed her hand over her belly where the baby had finally stopped punching her and felt exhaustion wash over her.

‘You’re having a nap when we get back to the suite,’ Jace declared in that dictatorial tone that he’d been using rather too often recently, as he settled back into the seat and drew her into his arms.

She glanced up to encounter his stern no-nonsense look—and took a deep breath. The clean scent of his soap invaded her senses as his heartbeat hammered under her palm. The familiar flutter of desire pulsed deep in her sex, as love made her heart fly off into the cosmos. She cocked an eyebrow at him, then let her palm drift down the worn, whisper-soft cashmere and felt his abdominal muscles tense beneath.

Gotcha.

‘I’m only having a nap if you have one with me,’ she murmured. He might have sucker punched her with that declaration of love—something he’d become remarkably adept at doing, she’d noticed—but she wasn’t a complete pushover. And she knew just how to sucker punch him right back.

He gave a soft half-laugh. ‘No way. You’re sleeping this afternoon.’ He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. ‘No hanky-panky until those shadows under your eyes have gone.’

‘Jace,’ she said, letting her fingers delve under the cashmere to encounter the lightly furred skin of his flat belly. ‘You really don’t want to deny a pregnant lady when she’s tired and horny—or she may get cranky.’

Swearing softly, he grasped her hand, halting its descent under his belt, but she’d already seen the flash of desire in his eyes, and the muscle tense in his jaw, which signalled his arousal. And she knew she had him.

She grinned. ‘And mind-blowing orgasms always help me sleep more soundly, so it’s your duty to supply one.’

‘You little …’ he muttered, gripping her fingers and bringing them to his mouth. He kissed the knuckles, his gaze alight with laughter and dark with lust. ‘All right, damn it. Have it your way. We’ll take the nap together.’

‘With full hanky-panky privileges,’ she clarified. The swell of love and contentment squeezed her heart as arousal stampeded through her system.

She adored this man so much. His honesty, his integrity, his sense of humour, his surly, sexy magnetism and that protective instinct that made her feel so safe and so secure. But most of all she adored the fact that she could love him without having to hold any piece of herself back, because she knew she could trust him to do the same.

She could still remember the first time he’d actually told her he loved her. And she’d made a huge fuss, because she could see how big a deal it had been for him—being able to trust his feelings enough to say the words. But the truth was, she had never needed to hear him say them—even though they had the power to melt her into an emotional puddle every time he’d said them since—because it was the love those three simple words represented that mattered. And he’d already shown her, in so many ways, that she already had that.

‘You can have full hanky-panky privileges,’ he agreed as his hand settled on her thigh, making the silk of her dress slide over sensitised skin. ‘Within reason.’ He slanted his lips across hers, gave her a deep, seeking kiss that promised at least one mind-blowing orgasm before naptime.

He smiled down at her as he pulled away. ‘Consider it an early Christmas present, Mrs Ryan. But be warned, I plan to seduce you into a coma—and once I’m done with you, you’re going to want to sleep for a week.’

She giggled at the seductive boast. ‘And miss Christmas tomorrow? I don’t think so. But you have my permission to give it your best shot.’

‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’

As the cab pulled up at the entrance to The Chesterton, the sparkle of Christmas lights in the winter greenery reminded her of the first time she’d arrived at the luxury hotel, in a wet coat and muddy boots, with Nessa’s saucy suggestion that she find herself a candy man turning her head.

Paying the driver and stepping out of the cab, the man who had become so much more to her than that hauled out her many bags of shopping and passed them to the waiting doorman with instructions to have them sent to their suite.

As Jace ducked back into the cab to offer her his hand her heart fluttered at the devastating smile on his face. ‘Come on, lover, your candy coma awaits,’ he joked, as if he had read her thoughts.

She laughed as she placed her fingers on his rough palm and let him lead her out of the cab. But as she walked up the steps, his arm secure around her waist, emotion welled up in her throat. The thrill of the night ahead, the thought of the Christmas celebrations to come tomorrow, the wonder of the new life growing inside her and the exciting promise of what her future held with Jace by her side soon had the emotion overwhelming her, and making the fairy lights blur.

‘Hey, now.’ He stopped on the top step, pushed her chin up to examine her face. ‘What’s with the waterworks?’ he asked, concern shadowing his eyes. ‘No crying allowed. It’s Christmas tomorrow. That’s your favourite day of the year.’

‘They’re happy tears, you twit.’ She nudged him with her elbow. ‘And FYI, Christmas isn’t my favourite day any more,’ she said, sniffing back the silly tears that had become a constant companion ever since she’d become pregnant. ‘Now I have you, every day is.’