“After last night I’m more than sure you do,” he said with a smile.
Gordon wasn’t demonstrative by nature, having been trained that it was best not to show emotion. Betty had been his teacher, followed by Sean. Yet around Jennifer he’d always been different, freer to be himself, perhaps. Or it could be that she brought out the best in him.
Mary was always touching her children, smoothing her hand across Harrison’s sleeve, reaching up and placing her palm against Jennifer’s cheek. He’d been envious of that easy familiarity, that sign of caring. More than once she stopped Harrison, called him back, and made him bend down so that she could smooth his hair away from his forehead or kiss his cheek. When that happened and he saw it, Gordon couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The only time Betty touched him was to give him the back of her hand.
Jennifer was like her mother. She’d always touched him, her fingers brushing his wrist. Sometimes she’d placed her hand on his shoulder in a wordless gesture of comfort.
Now she placed her palms against his face, encouraging him to lose his mind like he had last night. Yet it was daylight and there were people milling about. Reason enough to keep his head. Yet a part of him, atavistic and wild like Highlanders of old, wanted to pull her behind the nearest bush and make her his.
He’d always given the illusion of being somewhat civilized with an undercurrent of strength. The kind of man who didn’t accept orders from anyone, but gave them. The kind of person who didn’t tolerate cheaters or liars.
For years McBain’s scalding words had been buried deep inside him. All this time he’d been determined to prove him and Sean wrong. For all of that effort, for all of those years, he’d been rewarded. Not simply with Jennifer’s understanding and love, but the knowledge that nothing or no one would ever be able to separate them again.
“I love you,” he said softly. Words he’d once found difficult, but were easy to say to her.
She looked at him solemnly, her smile fading.
He wanted to be her hero, but he didn’t want to pretend that he was more than he was.
“I’ve done things in the heat of anger, Jennifer, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve never deliberately harmed another human being, but I’ve been called ruthless. Maybe I am. I need you to know that. I know that I’m no angel.”
Her knuckles brushed his cheek. He placed his hand on the back of hers, pressing it against his skin.
“I never wanted you to be a paragon of virtue, Gordon. Only to be yourself.”
He smiled, the expression coming up from the inside of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy or carefree. “I’ve never been anyone but myself.”
“I’m so glad for that.”
He kissed her softly. “While you’ve always been an angel.”
She pulled back. “I’m not a paragon, either, Gordon. You mustn’t make me out to be that way. I have a temper.”
“I remember,” he said with a smile.
“I get annoyed from time to time.”
“Again, I can attest to that.”
“I get impatient.”
He remained silent.
Even as they sat there still embracing, the day was brightening and warming. As if nature had taken a hint from their joy and was now replicating it.
He lowered his head and softly kissed her. Five years ago they had been more circumspect. Now he didn’t care. Let the world watch them; it didn’t matter.
How had he lived for five years without kissing Jennifer?
His arms tightened around her.
Yes, he’d laughed. He’d greeted each day with enthusiasm, eager for that day to be a success. Something had always been missing, however. Maybe the essence of hope. Or Jennifer, being close to him.
Now he almost felt drunk, as if he’d imbibed an entire bottle of wine. Bubbles of excitement raced through his veins.
This was the woman he loved, had always loved, would always love. No one would ever know her as well as he did. No one would ever understand him like Jennifer. They had the rest of their lives to love each other, and that thought was both heady and exciting.
“I’ll come to you tonight,” she whispered.
“No.”
“No? Don’t you want me?”
“Don’t want you? I’ve wanted you every day since I first knew what it was to want a woman. How can you ask me that? But one of us has to be sensible.”