Honey’s heart thumped hard in her chest as she stared into Trevor’s chocolate brown eyes. She gripped his hands tightly, tried to talk, but her throat was so tight she couldn’t get a word out.
He started to look worried. “Do you think we need to date a while before we get married? Because I can be patient.” Color flooded his face and he looked down. “I mean...what I mean is...”
Honey’s head swirled and tears flooded her eyes and she nodded, then laughed. “Is that a marriage proposal?”
“Yes.” His expression was serious and hopeful, as he studied her face. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?” He dropped to both knees in front of her. “Honey. I love you. Will you marry me?”
Relief that he still wanted her had Honey throwing her arms around him, feeling so happy she couldn’t believe it. “Yes.” She laughed. “I will.” She tried to lean back so she could see his face, but he didn’t release her, his tense body clutching her tight. She whispered in his ear, “Trevor, I love you, too. I missed you so much.”
Trevor groaned, burying his face in her hair, against her neck, and she could feel his heart pounding, his chest heaving against her own.
She found she couldn’t stop touching him, her hands drawn to his back, his thickly muscled shoulders, his hair. Finally, she leaned back and took his face in her hands.
He leaned forward and kissed her, groaning from the small contact. The kiss was so tender and full of promises that tears sprang to her eyes. She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. “My mother will kill me if I don’t give her at least a month or so to plan the wedding. So how does an August wedding sound?”
Trevor laughed, stood, picked her up and swung her around. “So you’re willing to take a chance on me?”
“More than willing,” she smiled.
He smiled back, sank down on the love seat and pulled her onto his lap. He touched her hair. “It’s a good thing you said yes, Goldilocks, because fairy tales always end with Happily Ever After.”
She laughed. “That’s true, but it isn’t the reason I said yes.”
“Oh?”
“I said yes because I knew almost from the beginning that you were just right.”
Trevor laughed, then lowered his mouth to hers. They didn’t say anything else for a very long time.
Chapter Fifteen
Six months later. Christmas Eve.
Honey finished wrapping the present, quietly opened the bedroom door and peeked down the hall. All clear. She turned off the light, and opened the door all the way.
Light from the Christmas tree, as well as soft Christmas music spilled up the stairs, and Honey walked down the dark hallway, the first four stairs, and bent to peek into Trevor’s office.
He wasn’t there.
She heard the clink of dishes and the low mummer of his voice and realized he must be on the phone in the kitchen.
Grinning, she hurried to the living room and placed the present on one of the Christmas tree branches. It slipped a bit so she tried another branch and it stayed.
She realized there was a present under the tree that hadn’t been there when she’d come home from work. A big one. She didn’t know how she’d missed it when she’d first walked in. The paper was fun, a dark blue with dancing white reindeers, and a big white bow. She was pretty sure she knew what it was.
She reached out to feel it and an arm wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her back against a large, muscular body.
Honey’s scream turned into a laugh. “Where did you come from?”
Trevor chuckled, his breath warm against her neck, making her shiver. “The kitchen. I just finished making my specialty, porridge in the crock pot, for tomorrow morning. It’ll tide us over until dinner at my parents’ place.” He pulled her down with him onto the couch and onto his lap and she wrapped her arms around him.
“You weren’t trying to feel your present, were you?” he teased.
“Never!”
Trevor chuckled again. “Uh huh. Dylan called. His dad made it home for Christmas.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! That was cutting it close.”
“Yeah, the little guy is thrilled. He wanted to let me know he won’t be around to feed the dog for the next week or so. He wanted to make sure I’d remember and do it right,” Trevor said dryly.
Honey laughed. She burrowed her face into the crook of Trevor’s neck and sighed blissfully as he tightened his arms around her.
The tree glowed in front of the window, and they’d had to rearrange the furniture a bit to accommodate it. The ornaments and decorations for the tree they’d chosen together. Her gaze wandered to the pictures of the two of them on the mantel, recently added to the other family pictures.
She just felt so happy.
If the tree weren’t in the way, she’d be able to see the two bears out by the mailbox, one bigger and one slightly smaller. Trevor had been carving a third.
A baby bear.
He’d started it a couple of months ago when they’d decided to forgo birth control and try for a baby. He didn’t think she knew about it.
And coincidentally, it was about the same shape and size as her present under the tree.
What perfect timing.
Honey had known for a week that she was expecting. It had been hard to keep the news to herself, but with Christmas so close, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make an occasion out of it.
In the morning she’d give him the present she’d placed on the branch. A tiny stuffed bear with a name tag reading
baby bear.
She smiled widely as she thought of what Trevor’s reaction would be.
“Happy?” he asked.
She nodded, then leaned up to kiss him, long and slow, before snuggling back against him with a smile. “Life just doesn’t get any better than this.”
Crockpot Porridge Recipe
Ingredients:
2 cups of milk
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 Tbsp. Melted butter
¼ tsp. Salt
½ tsp. Cinnamon
1 cup regular oats
1 cup peeled, chopped apple
½ cup chopped walnuts
Preparation:
Spray the inside of a 3-4 quart slow cooker with nonstick cooking spray. Combine all ingredients in the slow cooker and mix well. Cover and turn on LOW setting. Cook overnight or 8-9 hours. Stir well before serving.
For added sweetness, drizzle with honey. (Of course!)
Other Books by This Author
Serendipity
Once in a Blue Moon
A Penny for Your Thoughts
The Christmas Star
Steal His Heart
She’s Just Right
She Owns the Knight
For previews of upcoming books by Diane Darcy and more information about the author, visit
www.dianedarcy.com
Excerpt from She Owns the Knight by Diane Darcy
Why does she have to travel seven hundred years through time to find a decent guy?
Broken-hearted Jillian Corbett finally finds the knight of her dreams... in the past. Unfortunately he’s bossy, overbearing, and...betrothed! Fortunately, he thinks she is his affianced, which keeps her from garderobe duty. Or worse, being hanged as a spy. She knows she has to get back to her own time before his real fiancé shows up and the truth is discovered. But until she finds a way, she’s going to squeeze every bit of enjoyment she can out of this situation. As far as she’s concerned, this is one relationship in which she gets to call the shots, not the other way around. The dowry provided by his betrothed bought him, lock, stock and barrel. She’ll gladly whip him into shape for the girl who ends up with him. No thanks required. In the meantime, Jillian owns him, and as every twenty-first century girl knows...ownership has its privileges.
Why can’t he find a lady who is obedient, submissive...or at least not trying to kill him?
After a horrible first marriage that ended badly, Sir Kellen Marshall is determined to protect what is left of his dreams. He needs an heir, an alliance, and a chaste bride who has never loved another. Would that he’d been choosier in his specifications because what he’s ended up with is a loud, bossy, demanding female who will drive him daft at every opportunity.
So why does he feel he’d like to lay the world at her feet if she’d simply give him the chance?
When modern meets medieval, can there be a happily ever after?
England, 1260
“Is aught amiss?” Worried, Sir Kellen Marshall reached a hand to steady his wife. “Is it the babe?”
Catherine set her goblet on the sideboard, but seemed unable to take her gaze from it. “You switched the cups?”
“Aye. To give you the less cloudy, more pleasing drink. I’ll not have you drinking the dregs.” He gave her a smile, hoping,
aching
to receive one in return.
Her face turned ashen.
Alarmed, Kellen quickly set his drink aside, easily lifted her slight weight, and carried her swiftly to the bed to set her among quilts and pillows. He ran to the door, threw open the heavy wood, bellowed for help, then hurried back to where Catherine lay sweating, clutching her swollen belly. In the distance, people ran and orders were shouted as Kellen lowered himself to her bedside.
“’Tis Cowbane,” she whispered to him.
“What?” Disbelieving, he shook his head. “No. That cannot be.” Who would do such a thing? Who would dare to poison his wife?
“You have ruined everything.” She turned away from him, pressing her face into the pillows, gagging and shuddering before rolling back to grip his surcoat, her face taut with fear. “Please. You must save me. Please.” She put a hand to her stomach. “The babe.”
Several knights appeared in the doorway, “Find the midwife! Bring the healer!” Kellen roared the words.
A wide-eyed servant rushed back out of the room as others filled the entrance.
Kellen gripped his wife’s cold hand as her breathing quickened and resignation set her face. “You cannot save me,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “’Tis not possible.”
Her breathing became labored, her throat violently clenched, and her entire body tightened, head thrown back.
Kellen, every muscle in his own body constricting with panic, shook her shoulders. “Catherine!”
She took a loud, gasping breath, then relaxed for a moment and Kellen wiped sweat from her brow with shaking fingers. “Catherine, you must be well.” His voice broke. “Perchance the babe comes early?”
“The drink was meant for you.” Her breathing was heavy, as if drawing breath was an effort.
“What are you saying?”
“Your daughter is not of your seed.” Again, she convulsed violently, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth, then relaxed once more, placing a hand to her belly. “Nor is the one in my womb.”
Kellen studied her face, the swelling of her body. He swallowed and gripped her hand. “You are out of your head.” His voice was rough and low. “A devil has overtaken your mind.”
“I despise you.”
He tried to convince himself she was not herself, yet saw in her clear eyes she spoke true. And he was well aware the poisoned drink had been meant for him as he’d switched them himself. Why would she dishonor herself this way? It was senseless. “Why?”
“You sicken me.” Her face twisted. “I hate your disgusting, overlarge body. Your vile face. My lover is wonderful, slim and beautiful as a knight should be. Handsome and without scars.” She smiled, her face relaxing. She laughed once, and stopped breathing.
His wife, eyes open and staring, lay dead in his arms. He shook her, rage and despair welling within him. “
No!
” He clutched her to him. “
No
!” She’d swallowed poison meant for him? She’d meant to kill him? Surely he’d misunderstood. She was no poisoner. She could not be.