The Best is Yet to Come Part 15

"So did I." He turned her in his arms and looked down into her rapt face. "I love you, Ivy," he said softly. And he kissed her.

Tears spilled from her eyes while she clung to him. The words ricocheted through her trembling body, a beloved echo that went on and on and on.

"You didn't say that." She wept against his hungry mouth. "You didn't, did you? I must have dreamed it!"

"I said it," he breathed. His mouth touched her eyelids, closing them over the salty tears trickling from her eyes. "You didn't dream it. I sometimes think I dreamed you. I loved you when you were eighteen, but I thought you were too young and I overreacted the first time I kissed you. I waited a few years and thought I'd try again, but I'd frightened you too badly and you ran to Ben." He lifted his head and sighed bitterly as he searched her face. "I thought you loved him," he said somberly. "That's why I stayed away after the funeral. I gave you a job, just so I could be near you, and spent night after lonely night trying to find ways to tell you how I felt."

"Oh...Ryder!" Her voice broke and the tears rained down her face. "I loved you...wanted you...lived for you. Ben knew and hated you, hated me, hated us both...!"

His eyes flashed wildly and his mouth was on hers, drowning out the words. He lifted her, too hungry to think about her condition as he fitted her body to his and kissed her with all the stored-up pa.s.sion of years. She loved him. She'd said she loved him!

"Didn't you know?" she moaned when he stopped long enough to let them draw shaky breaths.

"No," he said unsteadily. His eyes searched her face with such love that she felt humble. "I never dreamed you might care for me that way. In Paris, I knew I could make you want me, but it wasn't enough. I never meant to let it go that far, but it had been so long and I wanted you desperately. So desperately," he breathed at her lips. "I'm not sorry for it, but I wish we'd both known at the time what we felt for each other was mutual."

"We know now," she said achingly. "Please marry me. I won't ever be able to say no to you again, and it will be such a scandal for mother to live through if we're just living together."

Shock waves trembled through his body. He'd been tormenting himself with ways to ask her, and she'd beat him to the punch. He almost laughed out loud.

"Do you want that?" he whispered, gently teasing her. "To be my wife. To live with me, always?"

"Yes," she said fervently. "I'll take such wonderful care of you, Ryder. I'll cook-well, Kim Sun and I will cook," she amended, thinking how much she'd enjoy that, because she and Kim Sun got along so well together. "And I'll look after you when you're sick and love you so sweetly at night."

His heart ran wild. He searched her soft eyes and bent to kiss her with aching tenderness, shaking all over with the newness of loving and being loved, belonging to someone.

"I'll love you just as sweetly," he breathed. His lips hardened insistently on hers and he held her closer, letting her feel his aching arousal. "I'd hoped it would be warmer here," he ground out, feeling the cold wind whip around them-a wind much too cold for the lovemaking he'd wanted to share with her.

"So had I," she whispered. "Ryder...we could park the car somewhere," she began.

He lifted his head, smoldering inside, and looked into her lovely face. He wanted her beyond bearing, especially now, but he didn't want to spoil what they had. "No," he said after a minute. "Not ever like that. I love you far too much to reduce what we share to a feverish interlude in the back seat of a car." He eased her hips away from his with a rueful smile at her knowing look. "And yes, I'm tempted. You can feel how bad it is for me."

"It was that bad in Paris," she recalled, coloring prettily.

"You don't really know why, do you?" he asked gently. He framed her face in his lean hands and nuzzled his cheek against hers. "Ivy, since the day I realized I loved you, there hasn't been a woman."

She drew back a little. "Two years, you said," she whispered.

"I lied." He linked his hands behind her and swung her lazily from side to side. "It's been five."

"Oh, my goodness," she burst out. "No wonder...!"

"Yes. No wonder I couldn't hold it back." He smiled slowly, with sinful delight. "And you still don't know all of it."

"I don't?"

"Ivy, why did you tell me you couldn't get pregnant?"

"Because I can't," she said sadly, her dark eyes searching his. "I never did with Ben. There's something, well, something wrong. Does it matter so much?" she asked plaintively. "You said it didn't, but..."

He stopped swinging her and took her hands, gently pressing them to her flat abdomen. The look in his pale eyes was overwhelmingly tender. "Feel," he whispered.

She didn't understand. Her expression said so.

"The nausea," he said gently. "The drowsiness. Feeling tired. Hating the smell of bacon." He smiled tenderly. "I hate bacon. So does he." His hands pressed hers closer to her body. "We made a baby together in Paris, Ivy," he said softly, watching her eyes begin to dilate, her lips part on an astonished breath.

Joy welled up in her like fire. She burst into tears and pushed herself close against him, shuddering all over as she clung to him, blind with ecstatic realization.

"You really didn't know, did you, little one?" he asked at her ear, laughing with utter delight. His arms contracted. "So, yes, I'll marry you, Miss McKenzie. And it had better be quick, before you start showing."

"I can't believe it," she moaned. "It's too wonderful. I never dreamed..." She drew back, her face worried. "But what if I'm not?"

"What about that normal thing that women have once a month?" he asked, to test his suspicions.

Her jaw fell. "Oh, my goodness. I thought it was all the excitement."

His eyes had a devilish twinkle. "It was all the excitement," he said knowingly.

She hit his chest gently. "I'll never live it down, if I am, and you knew before I did!"

He chuckled. "No, you won't, that's for sure." He kissed her gently. "See a doctor. Get an appointment today," he said. "But whether you are or not-and I'm d.a.m.ned near positive you are-we're getting married. G.o.d, I love you!" he whispered fervently, and it was in his eyes, his face, in the arms that held her.

"I love you, too," she whispered, drawing his mouth down to hers. "But, oh, I hope there's a baby."

Chapter 11.

And there was a baby. Ryder drove her to the doctor's-his company doctor's office-and waited with her until they were worked in. It was really amazing to watch him invent excuses to get a quick appointment, she thought breathlessly. In less than an hour, the doctor had all but confirmed their suspicions and ordered tests to substantiate them.

"I gather this is a wanted child," he murmured dryly when they were in his office waiting for the results of his examination, Ivy sitting and Ryder kneeling beside her, holding her slender hand tightly.

"You don't know the half of it," Ryder said, his voice husky with feeling as he looked at Ivy, smiling when she blushed.

"Well, I'll give you the name of a good obstetrician. You'll be needing prenatal care from now on. The tests are only going to confirm what I know from the examination, so we'll go ahead and set up the appointment." He looked at them over his gla.s.ses. "I gather this is one of those modern arrangements?"

"Oh, we're not at all modern," Ivy a.s.sured him. "We're getting married."

"You might explain to her what five years of abstinence does to a man." Ryder grinned. "That's why she's pregnant before the ceremony."

"Have you been away at war or something?" the doctor asked, chuckling.

"In love with her, and she was out of my reach," he said, his expression poignant. "I've got her now, though. She'll never get away."

"She'll never want to," Ivy a.s.sured him, oblivious to the doctor's very amused scrutiny.

They waited until the next day, until the tests came back positive, as the doctor had said they would, to tell Jean.

Ryder drove Ivy home from the office and led her into the living room, where one of Jean's soap operas was just going off.

"We've got something to tell you," Ivy said.

"I gathered that from all the nervous looks and evasions last night when I asked her why she was so restless," Jean said with amus.e.m.e.nt. "But I've already guessed, you know, and I'm sorry to steal your thunder. You're getting married, so congratulations are in order."

"It's...a little more complicated than that, I'm afraid," Ryder said, and actually looked sheepish. He sat down beside Jean on the sofa and took her hand, so much like Ivy's, in his. "We're going to have a baby," he said, the awe and delight of the statement in his pale eyes, in his smile.

"She can't," Jean explained. "Have babies, I mean."

"She's pregnant, all the same," Ryder grinned. "We just got the test results from Dr. Jameson."

Jean grabbed her chest. "Glory!" she burst out. "Oh, Ivy!" Her smile was astonished, radiant.

Ivy joined them on the sofa, hugging her mother tearfully. "Isn't it incredible? All those years, and I never, and then the first time with Ryder..." She realized what she was saying and went scarlet.

Jean looked from Ivy's red face to Ryder's red face and pursed her lips. "Paris?"

"Paris," they sighed together.

"You're not married!"

"We got a license on the way home. We'll be married tomorrow. Okay?" he asked.

Jean glowered at him. "I ought to smack both of you."

"I love her," he said, glancing warmly at Ivy. "I waited five years to show her how much." He shrugged. "I showed her a little more graphically than I meant to."

Jean didn't have an argument left. "If you waited five years, I can understand how it happened. My gosh, she walked around here turning green every morning at breakfast and I never even suspected, not even when she started going to bed with the chickens."

"None of us suspected, me least of all," Ivy laughed. "Ryder told me I was pregnant. I had no idea what was wrong with me."

Jean whistled. "You'll never live that one down. I can see you now, trying to explain it to your children."

"One of my aunts had twins," Ryder murmured speculatively. "Are there any twins in your family?"

"My grandmother had twins," Jean recalled. "Your great-uncle Harry and your great-uncle Todd," she reminded Ivy. "They aren't identical, but they're twins."

"Twins would be lovely," Ivy sighed, smiling at Ryder.

"Twins, triplets, whatever," he murmured. "I hope we don't die of it," he said slowly, searching her eyes on a soft sigh.

"Die of what?" Ivy asked, smiling dreamily.

"Happiness," he said.

Jean laughed and hugged him. "I know exactly how you feel. Welcome to the family, son."

They were married the following afternoon, and that night as Ivy lay in Ryder's arms in his own bedroom, she snuggled close and reflected on the wedding.

"It was so lovely," she said. "All those flowers, and Eve for a bridesmaid and her children for flower girls."

"And the most beautiful bride in the world." He bent and kissed her very gently. They were wearing nightclothes, tucked up together, but he hadn't made love to her and she was curious as to why.

"You're very distant for a new bridegroom," she pointed out, smiling at him in the soft lamplight. "Aren't you the same man who was going to seduce me on an Indian mound just three days ago?"

"Two," he corrected. "And, yes, I was. But you were tired after the ceremony and seeing Eve and Curt and the boys off at the airport."

She turned and slid closer to him, one soft hand finding his flat belly and teasing the thick hair.

He shivered and caught his breath.

"I thought it was all an act," she breathed, and brought her mouth down on his bare chest.

He guided her hand to his body and turned, sliding one long, powerful leg between both of hers. "Gently," he whispered through an anguish of need. "Gently. We have to remember our baby."

"Yes." She kissed him back, adoring him, showing her love with all the tenderness she felt as he stroked her body and laced kisses over her taut, swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She'd never known that lovemaking could be so tender, or so profound. He measured his body to hers and aroused her softly, until she was trembling and clinging to him, and only then did he bring her hips to his and tenderly begin the sweet, slow process of loving.

She felt the warm hardness of his body filling her, and she opened her eyes and looked into his, shivering with the achingly poignant hunger he'd aroused.

His hand went to the base of her spine and he smiled through his own need as he began to bring her closer. She absorbed him with ease, and there was none of the discomfort he'd had to subject her to during their first time.

"It doesn't hurt," she managed shakily.

"It isn't supposed to." His mouth touched hers. "You were like a virgin in Paris. Now you're my woman completely. We fit together like a hand and a glove."

Her breath caught at the a.n.a.logy. He held her eyes and pushed softly, deeply, until he was as close to her as he could get. Only then did he pause and catch his breath before he began to move.

It was unbelievable. She stared straight into his eyes the whole time, feeling his body brushing hers in a slow, tender rhythm, his hair-roughened chest and stomach a sweet abrasion against her soft skin. She touched his chest and felt the hardness of a flat male nipple wonderingly as the pleasure caught her unaware and suddenly jerked her in his arms.

Her mouth opened on a low moan, her eyes clouded. He watched her with pure masculine triumph, feeling the pleasure build in her even as it built in him. He increased the rhythm and the pressure, holding her body where he wanted it with both hands at her hips, his voice coaxing, praising as she matched his urgent movements.

The room swam around her. She heard the sound of flesh against fabric under them, the rough sigh of his breath as he moved harder, closer, the building groan that emanated from his broad chest as he started up the swift climb to fulfillment.

She went with him, her own body lifted with pleasure as his deep movements suddenly unlocked her body and gave him total, absolute access to some hidden dark ecstasy. They seemed to throb as it culminated, clinging to each other in blind oblivion as heat burst in them and echoed in a feverish aching rhythm of pleasure.

It was gone so soon, almost as soon as they reached it. She buried her face in his damp, shuddering chest and wept.

"Why can't it last?" she moaned shakily.

He understood. His mouth touched her hair, her damp forehead. "How could we live through it, if it did?" he whispered. "No, don't move," he breathed when she shifted. "Here."

He rolled over onto his back, but without separating them. His hand at the base of her spine held her where they were locked together and his arms contracted, cradling her on his body.

"All right?" he asked above her head.