Chapter 16 #2
"Believe it," he responded gruffly, forgetting for a moment that he had been thinking the same thing.
"I am completely and utterly in love with you.
There's no room for another woman in my life.
" He kissed the side of her neck, disturbed to realize that in his extreme ardor, he had broken the skin.
"Christ! I need to put something on this. "
"It doesn't hurt," she assured him. "And I love the fact that you branded me. Makes me feel like cattle."
He chuckled wryly, loving the fact that her wicked sense of humor was back.
"What you do to me. No more nonsense?"
Twisting her head around, she met his tawny gaze and nodded. "Aside from the usual? No. I hear the craving can be crazy. Hope you're prepared."
"I'm prepared for anything," he boasted airily and would remember those words in the next few months.
*****
"That's disgusting," he retorted and sincerely meant it. "Pickles and peanut butter." A week ago, it was purple grapefruit with soy sauce.
"Be grateful I'm craving food. I've read that some women consume dirt, chalk and laundry detergent." She grinned at the horrified look on his handsome face.
She was in her second trimester, six months in, and felt like she had swallowed a couple of elephants.
And they were having a son, much to her joy.
She was also driving the designers crazy, alternating on what shade of blue she wanted for the nursery.
She was exasperating her husband when it came to names, and had a long list she showed him each time. He had stopped looking.
Even though she complained about how big and ungainly she had become, the fact remained that she was beautiful, exceptionally so.
Her skin glowed and her hair had grown considerably.
And he loved the fact that she waddled. He enjoyed catering to her simplest needs and was proud to have her on his arm whenever they went out.
He was also looking forward to holding his son.
They were enjoying a quiet evening at home for a change.
It was Friday and he had firmly decided to forgo the gala event put on by his company and spend the time with his wife.
They had been rushing from work to functions since October started.
He had called a halt to it and decided to enjoy the quiet.
They were out on the balcony where she was feeding her disgusting craving while he applied cream to her stomach and massaged her ankles.
"We should call John."
"Why?" She stretched back against the cushions and purred. The man had magic fingers.
"Your ankles are swollen. It's cause for concern."
"It comes with the swollen belly and the big boobs with the highly sensitive nipples. I'm fine. Our son... Seth!"
"What?" He blinked at her and paused in the act of pressing on her left ankle.
"We should name him Seth. I think it's Hebrew, and I like the name."
"You also liked Alexander, from Alexander the Great, as well as Theodore, which is a definite no, and there were..." He pretended to consider. "Let's see... Connor, Jason, Trevor and Jackson."
"Naming a child is a very important decision. It says so in the book," she muttered.
"Which one? You've bought enough to outfit an entire library," he reminded her dryly.
"You're making fun of me." She wriggled her toes and sighed as he attacked her calves, long fingers slowly easing out the kinks.
"I'm thinking that this is supposed to be a team effort." His tawny eyes laughed at her. "You never once asked my opinion."
"That's because you've scoffed at every single name. I don't see you making a list."
"When I have you doing that?" he asked mildly. "Decided what shade of blue yet? I think the decorators are going to quit on us."
"Did they say that?" She sat up, almost upending the cup of lemonade he had poured her. "Because if they did-"
"Relax and mind your blood pressure." He simply pushed her back down. "I'm saying it, and now, as your husband and the father of your baby, I'm putting my foot down. I've told them that we're going for teal blue, and yes, the name Seth is fine."
"You're taking over."
"Someone has to," he conceded. "Darling, I love you to the moon and back, but you're driving me insane."
"I want everything to be just right," she muttered. "It's my first baby and I want it to be perfect. I want to be a good mother-"
"Don't start that right now." He capped the bottle and wiped his hands on the washcloth. "You're not your mother, and the way you're behaving shows that you will be a damn good mother. If not, I'm here to whip you into shape." Edging closer to her, he clamped his hands on her cheeks.
"I want you to stop worrying about every damn thing, am I clear? I want you stress-free. Have I been a good husband?"
"How can you ask me that?" she exclaimed in exasperation. She sighed, utterly defeated and feeling ungrateful. "I love you."
That right there would always disarm him, and she knew it, blast her.
"That's damn handy, because I love you too.
" Tilting her head back, he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she was gasping and clinging to him.
It came fast and furious. Shoving aside the table with the refreshments, he stripped off her clothing.
His hands raced over her body, cupping her bulging stomach.
Emotions stormed through him, whipped into him like a tidal wave that had him tearing up, his throat closing.
Bending his head on her belly, he waited for the flutter that indicated his son's movements.
"It's Daddy," he whispered, his voice thick.
"And I want you to know that you're so loved.
You have the most wonderful mother, and I love her to distraction.
" He raised himself up and went behind her, slipping into her with the ease of familiarity.
It still gave him a jolt when she sheathed him, pulling him in.
He had to take a beat; his hands wrapped possessively around her bulge.
Sweeping the hair from her neck, he kissed her there slowly.
"My love," he whispered thickly. "My heart, my life, my world.
" He moved slowly at first and then had no choice but to increase the pace when she moved with him.
It was over in a flash, his body driving into hers as he spilled his seed.
She came too, her hands clutching his as she exploded.
*****
Their son Seth Blake was born on an icy-cold day in the middle of January, after a twelve-hour labor during which the anxious father tried to quell his crippling fear.
Now standing next to his wife's bed, he cradled his son, an expression of wonder and awe on his face as he gazed down at what he believed was the most beautiful baby in the world.
"I think he's going to have your dimples," he murmured to his wife, who was looking as pleased as punch and unlike a woman who had been laboring for half a day.
"It's too soon to tell."
"The evidence is there." Brant studied the large unblinking golden eyes in fascination. The baby's hair was sparse, of course, but it was black and his complexion was a creamy pale gold. He was perfect.
"All ten toes and ten fingers." Cradling him carefully, Brant touched the tight fist.
"Are you going to get your mom?"
"What?" He looked up, a little dazed. "Oh! Yes. I should probably... you should keep him in here." He turned to the nurse, who was waiting to take the baby.
"No," his wife said firmly before she could respond.
"What if someone takes him?"
"Now who's being paranoid?" Indigo smiled at the nurse. "This very nice and professional Nurse Baker is in charge of him, and this happens to be a private clinic."
"That's right." John Wynter strode in, smiling at the new parents. "And I need to check on my patient."
Brant handed his son over reluctantly and stood there watching as the nurse carried him out.
"I was wondering when you were going to notice that I'm right here," his wife said dryly when he came to sit on the chair by her bedside.
"You're hard to ignore," he said with a grin, a tender expression on his face. "How's she, John?"
"Vitals are stable, and she's demanding to be released."
"I want to go home."
"That can happen as soon as tomorrow. As long as your son is doing fine. And he is," John assured them quickly. "A few more hours, and you're good to go."
"Thanks, John," Brant said.
"Congratulations," John told him and left.
Kicking off his shoes, he joined her on the bed. "I told the nurse to let Mother know she can get to see her grandson in the nursery." He wrapped an arm around her neck. "How's my beautiful wife doing?"
She snuggled, loving the scent of him. "Much better now."
"Have I told you lately that I'm head over heels in love with you?"
She pretended to consider. "Not since you were urging me to push and telling me how brave and wonderful I am. I think that was said to cover the fact that you were scared." Tilting her head back, she smiled, dimples flashing.
"I wasn't scared at all."
Her tapered brows lifted and had him grinning. "All right, I concede. Just a little bit." He bent to kiss her on the lips. "It was going on too long, and even though you weren't in pain because of the epidural-" He cocked an arrogant brow at her.
"Which I had to insist on because you wanted a natural birth. That would have driven me clear out of my mind."
"I read that some women have nasty side effects and a few were even crippled," she muttered. He had fought her on that and won.
He merely gave her a look that had her relenting. "You won. Leave it at that."
"I adore you."
He knew her weak spot, always.
"Right back at you."
*****
They stood at their son's cot, watching him sleep. She had arrived home to find a welcome-home banner done up by the housekeeper and Juliet. Now they were alone with their son.
Brant wrapped his arms around her, his throat thickening with emotion or tears. He did not know which, and at this point, he didn't give a damn. He had become more feminine since falling in love with the woman he was married to, the mother of his son.
He had often told her to suck it up and stop when she started to cry, and now it was him.
"Thank you," he whispered thickly, eyes bright.
She felt it, the emotions, the way his long, lean body trembled against hers.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes and murmured, telling him in a heartfelt voice that she loved him.
And she did, with her entire being: heart, body and soul.
Her eyes teared up as she remembered what her life had been before she met him and silently sent up a prayer of gratitude.
The end…