The Millionaire's Proposal (16 page)

Ford skimmed a hand lightly down her spine, urging her closer, but giving her enough room to object if she wanted to. She didn’t. Leaning more fully into him, until the taut curve of her belly conformed to his muscular one, she tilted her head and parted her lips, and for the first time since exchanging wedding vows with Ford, she was the one who initiated a kiss.

Ford let her have free rein. He even let her set the pace, and merely followed her lead. She encouraged the slow, drugging kind of kiss he’d taught her, the kind she liked the best, because it made her feel as though they had the rest of their lives to indulge in the lazy melding of lips and tongues. Incredible pleasure spread through her, and something in her tummy fluttered—illicit need, or her baby’s first movement, she wasn’t sure.

By the time she pulled back, they were both breathing hard.

“Wow,” he murmured, a rascal grin claiming his lips. “If I’d known that’s the response I’d get, I would have bought you a horse sooner.”

Shocked at her own brazenness, she stepped from his embrace and cleared her throat. She returned her attention back to Sophie, enchanted by the sweet-natured animal. “When did you get them?”

Ford came up beside her, hooking a booted foot on the bottom rung of the fence, and resting his arms across the top. “They were delivered while you were taking a nap this afternoon, which worked out well since I wanted them to be a surprise.”

“Oh, they’re certainly that.” She laughed lightly as Sophie nuzzled her neck affectionately. “Can we ride them?”

Ford’s smile expressed his own enjoyment of the moment. “That depends. I’ve got all the necessary gear, but I think you need to call Dr. Chase and get his approval to ride a horse. If he says okay, we can take them on a nice, easy stroll.”

“Then I’ll call him immediately.” She turned and headed back up to the house, excited at the prospect of riding her new mare.

Since it was Sunday, she called Dr. Chase at home. He gave her the permission she sought, as long as she didn’t allow the horse to trot or gallop. She was physically fit, and her pregnancy was progressing well, but the jarring motion posed too many risks. To be safe, he preferred she take the ride slow and easy.

Ford insisted that she pack a light snack while he saddled up the mares. She had no idea what he intended, but an hour later, she and Ford had made their way through the forest of trees separating Cutter Creek from her property, and he was guiding the horses along the lake in front of her cottage.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, mildly curious.

He glanced over at her, his body relaxed and at ease in the saddle. “I thought you might want to check on things.”

It had been at least two weeks since she’d stopped by the cottage, and she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give the house a quick walk through to make sure everything was in order.

Ford helped her down from Sophie, and while he tended to the horses, she used the key she’d stashed in the planter box next to the front door and entered the cottage. The place was stuffy from being closed up, but otherwise fine. She’d moved out all of the furnishings she’d wanted to Ford’s house, and had left the bare minimum that still made the cottage livable. She’d hired a gardener to keep up the lawn and planters around the house. But for as much as she missed her cozy cottage, she was beginning to think of Ford’s house as her home.

She headed back outside into the late afternoon sunshine, the mild warmth of the September day broken up by a pleasant breeze. Ford had looped the horse’s reins around a low bush, allowing them to graze contentedly without straying.

Shading her eyes from the sun, she searched for Ford, and found him standing out on the dock extending to the lake, their picnic sack in hand. She approached her husband, and frowned when she saw that a sturdy new rowboat had been tied to the dock, complete with oars.

“Where did that rowboat come from?” She glanced around, startled by the thought that someone might be hiding somewhere on her property.

“I had it delivered a few days ago,” he said, a smile glimmering in his eyes.

Perplexed, she could only stare at him. “Whatever for?”

“For us to use, of course.” As if she’d asked a completely ridiculous question, he slid a finger down the slope of her nose then executed a low, gallant bow. “Sailor McCabe, at your service, Ma’am.”

Surprise and pleasure rippled through her. “You’re taking me for a boat ride?”

“Yep.” He stepped into the well-built craft, bracing his legs wide to keep the small boat from rocking. Setting the picnic sack between his feet, he reached a hand up to her. “All you have to do is relax on that blanket and feed me, and I’ll do all the muscle work.”

“That’s an offer I find hard to refuse.” Utterly charmed by his romantic gesture, she placed her fingers in Ford’s and allowed him to help her into the boat. She sat down on the nice, soft blanket that had been arranged at one end of the structure, and reclined back against the hull.

After untying the rope securing them to the dock, he sat on the bench opposite her, took hold of the oars, and rowed them out onto the smooth surface of the lake.

She sighed complacently, enjoying the relaxing glide of the boat upon the water, and reveling in the sight of her gorgeous, sexy husband as he worked the oars with effortless, rhythmic ease. The form fitting polo shirt he’d worn defined the width of his broad shoulders, enabling her to indulge in the sight of those firm muscles across his chest flexing as he rowed. The sun haloed his dark, rumpled hair, and he smiled lazily at her, his own pleasure evident in his peaceful expression.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the rim of the boat and basked in the warmth of the sun upon her face. Before long, the tranquility of the boat ride lulled her close to slumber.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Ford said, gently nudging her foot. “You already had a nap today.”

“Oh, but this is absolutely wonderful.” She blinked her heavy eyes open, and gave him a drowsy smile. “If I would have known what you had planned, I would have saved my nap for now.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my time with you, and as beautiful as you look sleeping, I’d like to enjoy this outing with you awake.”

He thought her beautiful in her pregnant condition; her heart beat a little faster. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. McCabe,” she teased.

He winked at her. “I sure do hope so.”

Resting her hands over her belly, she regarded him thoughtfully. “You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, the movement as fluid as his strokes with the oars. “I like to see you happy.”

“I am,” she said, hearing the slight reservation in her voice.

He caught it, too, and prompted, “Except for?”

“My father’s stubbornness, of course,” she said, disgust lacing her voice. She was beyond hoping he’d come around, not when he hadn’t made the slightest effort to breach the ever-widening chasm between them. In his eyes, she’d done the unforgivable when she’d married Ford, regardless of the fact that she was offering him a rare gift in the child she carried.

“I just hate the thought of him not being a part of his grandchild’s life,” she said, absently stroking the slight swell of her belly. “He knows how much this baby means to me since I didn’t think I’d ever have children of my own.”

“But it’s my child, too,” Ford said, his simple statement holding a wealth of meaning.

“That shouldn’t matter,” she argued, frustrated with her father’s inability to get past his grudge with Ford, which would only hurt their child in the future.

“I’m glad
you
think so.”

Ford’s quietly spoken words impacted her deeply, forcing her to realize how much this child mattered to the man she’d married, as did her opinion of him being the father of the baby.

She swallowed back the emotions rising in her throat. “Ford . . . I know we married for the sake of this baby, and as shocked as I was to discover I was pregnant, I don’t regret anything.”

He gave her a lop-sided grin that produced a dimple in his cheek. “Not even me forcing you to marry me?”

“I understand your reasons,” she said with quiet honesty. “You didn’t want your child to grow up illegitimate and quite frankly, neither do I.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s one reason.”

His words implied there was more, prompting her curiosity. “And the other reason?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze a warm, vivid shade of violet. “If you haven’t figured that out yet, you will in time.”

His vague, cryptic words settled over her, confusing her mind. He’d never said he loved her, hadn’t even insinuated that his feelings for her might extend beyond the friendship and caring they’d developed since they’d gotten married. She wondered if he was possibly as uncertain and wary as she was of revealing his emotions. There was something extremely vulnerable about being in love and not knowing how the other person felt.

“So, why did you marry David?” he asked, changing the subject to one as equally unsettling as the thoughts he’d interrupted.

The most logical answer to Ford’s question would be because she’d loved David, but that hadn’t been the case for her. She could fabricate all kinds of believable excuses, but she and Ford had come a long way in trusting one another since they’d married, and she wanted to keep that honesty secure.

She met Ford’s gaze, who was waiting for her reply. “I married David to save my reputation. He married me because he’d always been infatuated with me.” The smile she summoned felt forced on her own lips. “Not a great basis for a marriage.”

He continued to row, long, lazy strokes that belied the intent look that leapt into his gaze. “What do you mean, to save your reputation?”

She glanced out the side of the boat to dry land, recognizing the scenery and guessing they were a good mile and a half away from her cottage. She felt as though they were in another country altogether.

“After you left, rumor of my involvement with you spread.” Catching the frown that formed on his brow, she explained, “Someone must have seen us together, and guessed at our relationship. Since my virtue was in question, my father pushed for marriage between David and me. My father was determined to salvage the family name, and my reputation, so when David proposed, I accepted.” As always, she’d done the right thing, showing her father that she was a “good girl”.

A large tree shaded them, and Ford stopped rowing the oars, letting the boat glide lazily on the surface of the glossy water. “Did you love David?”

Not like the way I loved you
. “I cared for him,” she admitted. “But we married for all the wrong reasons, and when I couldn’t get pregnant, that just put an additional strain on our relationship. After five years of trying to make the marriage work, we finally divorced. According to David’s mother, he’s doing well in Norfolk with his new family, so I’m happy for him.”

Ford nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

She smiled, feeling close to Ford, and emotionally connected. “It all worked out for the best.”

“Yeah, I suppose it did,” he agreed, putting his own spin on her words. With a reciprocating smile, he stretched the muscles that had tightened from his sitting position. “If you expect me to row all the way back to the cottage, you’d better feed me and give me the strength.”

Rolling her eyes at that, she sat up on her knees and reached for the sack of goodies they’d brought along. The boat rocked gently, but Ford’s widespread feet and solid body kept her from swaying off balance.

“Easy does it,” he murmured humorously. “Or else we’ll be taking a swim.”

Crossing her legs in front of Ford, she spread their light fare on napkins on the blanket. She placed a slice of cheese on a cracker and lifted it to his lips. He accepted the snack while she opened a bottle of apple juice to share. Then she opened the container of sliced apples, took out a wedge, and offered it to Ford.

“Mmm, apples,” he said, seemingly relishing the juicy slice she’d slipped into his mouth. “Do you know what apples remind me of?”

Oh, she knew exactly what the crisp, tart fruit reminded him of, because it reminded her, too. “What?” she asked, not wanting to be the one to bring up such a sensual memory.

His gaze glowed warmly with the recollection. “It reminds me of the day you’d stopped by my house to bring me the fresh apple pie you’d baked just for me, along with two roast beef sandwiches you’d made from your family’s previous night’s left overs.”

She nodded, remembering painfully well the way he’d accepted the meal graciously, his hunger pangs obviously winning over pride. His own mother hadn’t bothered to shop for groceries or give him money for food—she’d spent her paychecks at After Hours after working her shift as a cocktail waitress, forgetting that she had a son starving at home.

“You found me out in that dilapidated old barn behind the house, trying to chop the beams into pieces of wood to use in the fireplace so I’d have a little warmth at night.” He ate another slice of apple, savoring the taste on his tongue. “I hadn’t eaten anything substantial in two days and was so hungry, not that you could have known. I ate those sandwiches and half of that pie so fast that it nearly gave me a belly ache.”

She laughed at the pained look on his face, and waggled a finger at him. “I warned you to slow down.”

He caught the offending digit, and held her hand. Bringing her fingers to his mouth, he kissed the tips of each. A soft breath exhaled out of her, and she melted inside.

“I thought you were an angel for bringing me that food,” he said, his voice low and husky. “All I meant to do was give you a soft kiss of thanks, but you tasted even sweeter than that apple pie, and when your lips parted on a soft sigh, I couldn’t resist . . .”

A shudder of yearning rippled through her, making her breasts swell and her body ache. That had been the first time they’d made love, and the event had been sensual, and tender, and so very poignant. It had been pure magic.

As if feeling that same undercurrent of need that tugged at her, he released her hand, severing the contact between them. “It’s getting late,” he said, gathering up the remnants of their snack. “We should head back to the cottage before it gets dark.”