Gwynneth Ever After (31 page)

Saying it out loud brought a new, fresh pain and she caught her breath sharply. “I missed him,” she said again, whispering this time. “He’s gone.”

But instead of the offered arms or condolences that she decided might not be so bad after all, a fresh babble broke out among the gathered company.

And then, through the clamor of voices, her name. Softly spoken in deep, rich, unmistakable tones. Gwyn started. She stared.

One by one, the others quieted. One by one, they smiled and moved aside and departed in the direction of the kitchen, towing a protesting Nicholas with them past the figure standing halfway down the hall. Until no one stood between her and –
 

“Gareth?” she whispered, staring in disbelief. “But you’re on a plane to L.A. I couldn’t stop you.”

“On the contrary, you couldn’t make me go.”

“I – I couldn’t?”

He shook his head. “I decided you were wrong after all.”

“You did?”

“I decided,” he continued, beginning that slow, measured advance that always wreaked such havoc with her nervous system, “that if it takes the rest of my life, I will somehow convince you to trust me.”
 

She took an involuntary step back, coming up against the front door someone had closed. Gareth stopped a scant few inches away. He braced his right hand against the door beside her head, his left hand on the other side. A familiar, sweet ache began low in her belly. She breathed in his scent. Minty, musky, all male.

“I’m not Jack, Gwyn.”

“I know.”

“Say it,” he demanded.
 

“You’re not Jack,” she whispered.

Gareth’s mouth, so near her own, curved with grim satisfaction. She lifted her gaze to the banked fire glowing in the depths of his eyes.

“You’re Gareth Connor,” she said. “The man I love. The man I trust.”

Gareth drew a ragged breath.

“God – you so very nearly convinced me – ”

She put her hand to his mouth, stopping his words. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was afraid – not just for the kids, but for me, too. I couldn’t face losing you – ”

“So you sent me away?” he asked dryly. He took her hand in one of his and pressed his lips to her palm. “I was so tied up inside over hurting you that it almost seemed logical,” he admitted. “I just wanted to make it better for you.”

“You did,” she said. “You came back.”

His gaze darkened. “And I will never, ever leave.”

Gwyn shook her head. “I don’t need promises, Gareth – ”

“Perhaps not, but I need to make them. I love you, Gwynneth with two n’s, and I will
not
leave you, do you understand?”

Her breath caught in her chest. She nodded. “I understand,” she whispered.

“Good,” Gareth growled, tipping her face up to his. “And now that we’ve cleared that up – ”

“Mommy?” Nicholas’ voice queried politely.

Gareth went rigid against her. He sighed. “Or perhaps not.”

He turned his head, tipped his chin down, and regarded her son with a wry patience she admired tremendously, given her own desire to scream.

“Yes, Nicholas, we’re kissing,” he said. “Or trying to.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“Of course it wasn’t.” Gareth shot Gwyn a long-suffering look. Removing his hands from her hips, he stepped away with a muffled groan. Then he turned his full attention to the little boy. “Right then. How can we help you?”

“Katie says you and Mommy are in love.”

Gareth quirked an eyebrow at her. “Ever notice how your eldest always seems to be the instigator behind these interruptions?”

He slid his hands into his pockets, leaned against the wall beside the living room doorway, and regarded Nicholas with utmost seriousness. “What exactly is your question, Nicholas?”

“If you
are
in love, does that mean we’re getting married?”

Gwyn caught her breath, heat rising from her neck to scorch her face. “Lord, Nicholas,” she groaned, “how in the world do you come up with these things?”

“Katie told me to ask!” her son replied indignantly.

Gareth chuckled and shot her an
I
told you so
look, then turned his attention back to Nicholas. “Do you think we should get married?”

Nicholas eyed him. “If we do, can I have two bedtime stories and watch cartoons before school?”

She watched Gareth struggle to maintain his straight face. “Um...that would be a no.”

“Man!” Nicholas heaved a heavy sigh, then gave a prosaic shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, well. We can still get married if you want.”

“Nicholas – ” Gwyn moved to crouch beside her son, but a strong hand on her arm stopped her and drew her back up again.

“It’s not quite what I had in mind,” Gareth said quietly, “but I’m learning that not much goes according to plan where your kids are involved. And besides, I do want.”

Her world went very still.

Gareth smiled a slow, unhurried smile that made her toes curl against the floor. With strong, capable, infinitely gentle fingers, he brushed back the hair from her face.

“I want,” he continued, “to have you beside me for the rest of my life. I want to share your home, and your family, and your heart. I want to face every day with you; to laugh with you; to lighten your load in every way I can. I want to hold you in my arms every night and make love to you every chance I get. I want, my darling Gwynneth with two n’s, to be your husband, if you’ll have me.”

“Is that a yes?” Nicholas asked, tugging at Gwyn’s sweater. “Are we getting married?”

The intrusion jolted Gwyn out of a stupor that might have otherwise rendered her catatonic. She smiled down at her son, and then raised her face to Gareth.

“Yes, Nicky,” she said. Joy swelled in her, chasing away every last shred of insecurity she had ever experienced. “That’s a yes. We’re getting married.”

Gareth’s eyes locked with hers, his love an unmistakable blaze in their depths as his arms slipped around her.

“
Now
can we have a party?” Maggie demanded, wedging herself between Gwyn and the wall and gazing up expectantly.

Ignoring the new intruder, Gareth completed his enfolding of Gwyn, burying his face in her hair and wrapping her so close that no one else could possibly come between them.

“I love you,” he muttered.

“I love you too.”

“And you know that I love your kids.”

She sensed something more behind his words and drew back a little to raise an eyebrow. “But?”

He sighed and cast a wistful look at the crew that had assembled near their feet. “But if I’m allowed one last want,” he said, “I would really like a nice, long honeymoon. Without kids.”

Other Books by Linda Poiteven

Sins of the Angels

(Grigori Legacy #1)

Sins of the Son

(Grigori Legacy #2)

Sins of the Lost

(Grigori Legacy #3)

coming October 2013

About the Author

Linda lives near Ottawa, Canada’s capital with her husband, youngest of three daughters, one very large husky/shepherd/great Dane-cross dog, two cats, a rabbit, and a bearded dragon lizard. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found in her garden or walking her dog along the river or through the woods. She loves to hear from readers, and you can stay in touch with her on
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