Bad Girl Bill (Atlantic Divide) (20 page)

“I want to get married before I’m too old.”

His smile widened. “Are you proposing?”

She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, scrubbed at her nose, and made his heart lurch.

“Anything else?”

“I want babies. Lydia’s pregnant. I want to be. I want lots of babies!” Scary, but he thought he could handle that.

“How many?” He took her left hand in his, kissed her fingertips.

“Six. I want six.”

“Bloody hell, woman.” He growled as his knees went weak, and he staggered back a step. “That’s a little excessive! It’ll be more of a war-zone than Afghanistan.” He stared into her face, and her huge, velvet eyes gazed back, filled with tears that hovered, about to spill over. His chest ached, his throat tightened. He’d give her anything, anything to keep her, anything to stop her from crying.

“But, Michael, I want a husband, a father to my children to watch me grow fat while I’m carrying them—” A sob escaped her, loud and hiccupping “—And I need him to be there to see them grow up and leave home and be with me when I’m old and gray.” She almost wailed as the tears fell. He felt his lips twitch—she never did anything by halves. “You can’t do that.” She rubbed his chest and gazed into his smiling, sea-green eyes, shook her head. “The British government will always come first.”

One final, single, fat tear trickled down her cheek, hovered at her chin, and then plopped onto the back of his hand.

He hauled her close to his chest, moved his injured arm out of the way, and clung on tight with his good arm. He hoped to high heaven she wasn’t going to cry again. If she did, he was toast.

He held her for several minutes, and then whispered in her ear.

“I’m not going anywhere. I asked to be transferred out of Special Forces. I told them I had a vested interest in staying here.” He put his fingers under her chin and pulled her face up to meet his.

“I love you, and I want to marry you. We can have s-s-six kids?”

She nodded in agreement, gave him a watery smile.

“You stu-stu-stuttered.” Deep and husky, her voice melted him, her tremulous smile warmed him.

“I’m not su-su-surprised.”

She gurgled.

“Bill, I want to have children with you…six if that’s what it takes. I want to watch you get fat with them and see them grow up and leave home…” He stroked her face with his fingertips and gazed deep into her eyes, so she could see he was sincere. “I want to grow old with you and make love to you every day of our lives.”

He took in a large breath, let it out slowly.

“I love you so much. I will never leave you again.” He stroked her short, raven hair gently, and then scrubbed it like her brothers did and kissed her hard on the lips. “Marry me, Bill?” He dipped his mouth to hers again, and his warm, smooth lips met her cool, soft ones.

He sunk into the kiss, hungry and keen until she leaned back and gave him a sharp punch to his uninjured shoulder.

“I don’t know. You made me cry…twice.”

“I promise never to do that again.”

One black eyebrow shot up.

“I bet you do. You’re the only man who ever made me cry.”

She stared at him with such intensity, his heart missed a beat, and then she stepped back out of the circle of his arms. He frowned, doubt skittered crossed his mind as she took another step back, and then another.

With a bad-girl smile on her face, one dark eyebrow arched, she rubbed the back of her hand over the end of her nose and sniffed.

“Well now, tiger, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if you deserve me.” She turned with long-legged strides toward the house as he felt his jaw drop, his heart stutter.

It took him a moment, a beat, that was all, before he was after her, up the steps and across the porch to throw her bodily over his good shoulder with nothing but a small grunt to signify the pain that shot through his injured arm, and then he rushed headlong into the house, his bad-girl Bill hooting with laughter all the way.

The End

Characters have always been in a corner of Diane’s mind, securely tied down while she worked long hours in a serious job. In January 2011, Diane gave up her job, started to let those characters develop, seep out of her head, and onto the keyboard. Now she finds, having been hidden all too long and no longer shy, they are bursting out of her brain and demanding plot-lines of their own. Contemporary Romance author, Diane Saxon, is letting them have their own way. http://www.dianesaxon.com