Just One Last Night
daughter, Nell. I promise you. Look at Tabitha and have faith, OK?’
She smiled shakily. ‘People would think it was stupid to believe because one little cat made it against all the odds, it’s a sign for us.’
‘I don’t give a damn what people think.’ He pulled her more firmly into him. ‘And this is Christmas, don’t forget. A time for miracles and for wishes to come true. Who would have thought a few days ago we would be standing here like this, Nell? But we are. We’re together again and stronger than ever before. And talking of miracles—’ he touched her belly ‘—one night of love and this child came into being. Now, I know we would still have been together in the long run because I would never have accepted anything else, but this baby was a catalyst for you in many ways.’
His voice was so full of the relentless determination and assurance she’d come to associate with the man she loved that Melanie smiled again. ‘So you’re saying we’re part of a Christmas miracle?’
‘Dead right, we are.’ He grinned, looking up into the sky. ‘Look at that. It’s specially for us, you know. A true modern-art spectacular.’
Melanie giggled. ‘You’re crazy—you know that, don’t you?’
‘For you? Guilty as charged.’ He turned her to look at their snowman, who was definitely something of a cross-dresser, having one of Melanie’s scarves tied round his neck—a pink, fluffy number with tiny sequins sewn into it—and one of her summer straw hats complete with ribbons and tiny daisies. ‘Is he finished?’
‘Just about.’
‘Then I suggest we go inside and warm up.’
‘In front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate?’
‘Possibly.’ He eyed her sexily. ‘Not quite what I had in mind, though. I was thinking of something more… cosy.’
‘More cosy than hot chocolate?’ she murmured, pretending ignorance.
‘As in one hundred per cent.’
‘Oh, well, in that case …’
‘And remember.’ He took her cold face in his hands, suddenly serious. ‘I love you and you love me. Anything else—anything—comes second to that.’
Melanie nodded. She wanted to believe that. She needed to. And perhaps that was what this was all about: a step of faith. She linked her arms round his neck. ‘I love Christmas.’
He kissed her forehead, dislodging her bright scarlet pom-pom hat in the process. ‘Best time of the year,’ he said huskily. ‘The very best.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MELANIE was remembering the magic of Christmas as Forde drove her to the hospital in the last week of May.
The weather couldn’t have been more different. For weeks the country had been enjoying warm, sunny days more typical of the Mediterranean, and James and the assistant she had hired to help him had been rushed off their feet with work. Business was booming and already her small company had a reputation for excellent reliability and first-class results, which boded well for the future. But Melanie wasn’t thinking of James or the company as Forde’s Aston Martin ate up the miles to the hospital; she was lost in the enchantment of those days when she and Forde had been enclosed in their own isolated world, along with Tabitha and the kittens, of course.
The kittens had grown swiftly into little cats developing distinct personalities of their own. They had named the two little females Holly and Ivy, and the larger boy Noel, and it was a good thing Tabitha was something of a strict mother because the three could be quite a handful. But Melanie loved them passionately and because love begot love, they loved her back, even if it was in the somewhat superior feline version of that emotion. Her favourite was Tabitha though. The little tabby was devoted to Melanie in the same way a dog would be, following her about the house and liking nothing more than to lie at her feet or on her lap whenever she could. She kept her troublesome threesome under control by a swift tap of the paw now and again and the odd warning growl when they stepped out of line, but on the whole it was a happy household.
It was Tabitha who was at the forefront of Melanie’s mind as she said, ‘You made sure the cats were all in before we left?’
‘Absolutely.’ Forde’s voice was indulgent. She had asked him the same question twice before. ‘And the TV’s off and the back door’s locked. OK?’
Melanie smiled at him. She had been in labour for some hours but the contractions had followed no particular pattern and there had been no urgency about them. Then, with a suddenness that had surprised her and panicked Forde, they’d increased dramatically in intensity with considerably less time between them.
Her overnight bag had been packed for weeks and left in the same place, at the foot of their bed, but somehow Forde had been unable to find it until she had lent a hand. She glanced now at the speedometer, her voice deliberately casual when she said, ‘We’re doing fifty in a thirty zone, Forde.’
‘I know.’ His voice was a little strained.
‘There’s plenty of time.’ But even as she spoke a new contraction gripped her, her muscles tightening until it was nigh on unbearable before loosening again.
‘OK?’ Forde hadn’t slowed one iota and the glance he shot at her was desperate. ‘I told you we should have left hours ago, Nell.’
‘It’s fine.’ She was able to smile again. ‘Three of the mothers from the antenatal classes were sent home again due to false alarms and I’d just die if that was me. I wanted to make sure.’
Forde groaned. ‘Would having the baby in the car convince you?’ And then realising that wasn’t the most tactful of remarks, he added quickly, ‘Not that we wouldn’t cope with that, of course, if it happened, but I’d prefer you to be in hospital.’