Authors: Maggie Cox
‘Trust me,’ Jake replied with a knowing lift of an eyebrow, ‘
talking
is not exactly what I have planned when we go to bed tonight.’
Heat surging into her cheeks, Ailsa didn’t protest. Why would she when she was still thrilled to know that the man she loved found her so irresistible? Their passionate reunion really was a dream come true.
They moved across the elegant dining room to a sumptuous sofa laden with several luxurious silk cushions. ‘I’ve been thinking about where we’re going to live when we remarry. I mean our main home,’ Jake said.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘I know you love the cottage, but I’ve been mulling over the idea of basing myself in London full-time again. The Copenhagen branch of the company is flourishing, and there are at least two people there who could easily oversee things by themselves for me. But the cottage is too far a commute, and I don’t want us to be apart—not even
for a day. Anyway, I was wondering how you would feel about moving to the Westminster penthouse for a while? It will only be until we can find something more suitable—something with a good-sized garden for Saskia to play in and nice views—a riverside place by the Thames, maybe? I’ve asked my business manager to start looking for me. What do you think?’
‘Yes, all right. That sounds fine.’
‘I know you’ve got your business established now, but you can always trade online. I could find you some premises near where we live in London, or when we find a suitable house with plenty of spare room you can work from home if you’d prefer that.’
‘I said yes, Jake … I agree.’
He stopped talking then, and Ailsa exhaled a long breath—as if she did so for the both of them.
‘Just yes? You mean you don’t have any reservations about making such a move?’ His smooth brow creased in puzzlement.
Lifting his hand, she thoughtfully examined the long fingers, with their blunt-cut nails and the still evident scarring that criss-crossed the otherwise unblemished flesh. Her heart squeezed. ‘Right now, I’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant I could be with you, Jake—and that’s the truth. As much as I love what I do, my craft business isn’t my top priority. My family is … you and Saskia. As long as the three of us can be together then everything else has to fall in with that. Like I said to you before … I don’t have doubts any more—just
hopes’
‘If I drank wine I’d raise a glass to that.’ Her husband-to-be smiled.
‘What’s wrong with orange juice?’ Ailsa asked softly.
It wasn’t until dinner was at an end that Jake—seated at the head of the long festively decorated table, with Ailsa on his right and his enchanting daughter in her poppy-red dress on his left—finally lifted his glass to make the toast he’d been aching to make all day.
Knowingly catching his eye, Saskia clanged her dessert spoon against her drinking glass to get the full attention of the assembled friends and family who had shared the delicious food that Tilda had prepared. Seated at the opposite end of the table from her beloved son, Tilda Larsen gave her granddaughter an approving wink as the child got confidently to her feet.
‘Everybody … my papa would like to say something.’
She sat down again with flaming cheeks and, leaning forward, Jake lifted her slender little hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he got to his feet, glancing down the table at the sea of faces now waiting expectantly for him to speak.
‘Christmas is traditionally a very special time for us all,’ he began. ‘And although six months ago I very sadly lost my father, and my mother her devoted husband, I am certain that Jacob senior would not begrudge me calling this day extra-special this year.’ During the charged silence that fell, one could have heard the proverbial pin drop. ‘It is extra-special because my darling Ailsa has agreed to marry me again,’ Jake finished.
‘You’ve given me my surprise! Oh, thank you—thank you! It’s the best present ever … better than anything Father Christmas could bring!’ Jumping to her feet, Saskia enthusiastically flung her arms round her father, then moved round to where her mother was sitting, rushing to do the same to her.
Everyone cheered and got to their feet, clapping hands
and turning to the people either side of them to exclaim their surprise and delight.
Emotion almost overwhelming him, Jake reached for Ailsa as she somewhat shakily stood up too. Echoing the powerful sensations of joy and happiness that flooded his heart, her lovely eyes glistened with tears. Raising his glass, he made the toast he’d been longing to make. ‘To the love of my life—Ailsa. You’ve given me back my life and made me happier than I perhaps have a right to be. I hope you never have cause to regret coming back to me. I’ll work hard every day to make sure you always believe your decision was the right one.’
‘You don’t have to do anything but be the wonderful man you are, Jake. You’ve given me back my life too.’ His wife-to-be deliberately kept her voice low, for his ears only, and there, in front of his assembled family and friends, he kissed her openly and passionately on the mouth …
In the middle of her careful packing of the photographs she would take with her to Westminster, when she and Saskia moved in with Jake, Ailsa lifted one of the latest framed pictures that stood on the living room mantelpiece and sighed. It was a lovely portrait of herself and Jake, taken on their wedding day two weeks ago. The occasion itself had been a quiet affair in the county town’s local register office—nothing like the big wedding they’d had when they’d first got married, nearly ten years ago—but it had truly been the best day of her life. Tilda had flown over from Copenhagen to join them, and Jake’s loyal chauffeur Alain and a lovely young woman from the florists who had created Ailsa’s bouquet for her stood as witnesses. Saskia had been the most exquisite flower-girl. After the ceremony they had gone to a very charming country house hotel to have dinner.
Smiling, she touched her fingertips to the portrait. Then, carefully wrapping it, she laid it on the very top of the packing case she’d been filling. Straightening, she glanced down with quiet satisfaction at the familiar circle of ravishing diamonds on her finger.
She was Mrs Larsen again.
Even now she could still hardly believe it.
As long as the commute to London was, Jake had temporarily returned to the cottage with his wife and daughter, until they could all move to Westminster together. But they wouldn’t even be staying there for long, because his company manager had found them the most wonderful house by the river in Windsor.
Now, noticing the time, Ailsa went to the foot of the stairs and called out to Saskia, who was undertaking some packing of her own in her bedroom. ‘I’m just going to start making dinner, darling. Papa will be home soon.’
It sounded like the most normal statement in the world, but it still gave her a thrill to say it. In the kitchen she checked the ingredients for the meal she was making, put the kettle on for a cup of tea, then stood gazing out of the window at the darkening winter sky, her hand absently rubbing her belly. The snow had all but melted now, but the ice in the air still cut like a knife. She grimaced as the sensation of nausea in the pit of her stomach grew a little more intense. Without realising she’d intended to, she depressed the swtich on the kettle to turn it off. All she was aware of was that suddenly the thought of tea made her feel quite sick.
Moving across to the table, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Still rubbing her belly, she stilled suddenly, calculating in her mind. She’d been suffering from this disagreeable nausea for several days now. At first she’d thought she’d picked up some kind of tummy bug—or perhaps it was just a combination of nerves and excitement
because so many changes in her life were happening so fast?
Now it dawned on her that she’d missed her last period.
She shot up from the chair and started to pace the floor. ‘Oh, my God …’ she whispered under her breath. ‘This can’t be happening … it’s impossible. I know it’s impossible!’
But, despite her impassioned declaration, Ailsa found herself climbing the stairs to her bedroom. From the lowest dressing table drawer—safely put away beneath a colourful woollen shawl that she no longer wore—she withdrew a slim brown envelope stamped with the name of the hospital she’d been taken to after the accident. Dropping down onto the end of the bed, she took out the medical report that she’d only ever read once. The contents were too shattering for her ever to want to look at them again. But now, with her heart thumping heavily beneath her ribs, Ailsa made herself read the report extra carefully.
With shock and disbelief she saw one statement that screamed out at her above all the others:
It is unlikely that Mrs Larsen will ever be able to become pregnant again and carry a child to full term.
It was the word ‘unlikely’ that jumped out at her most of all. ‘Unlikely’ was not exactly definitive, was it? That meant that there was a possibility—in her own case a
distinct
possibility—that she might indeed have become pregnant and
could
carry her baby to full term.
Why had she never noticed the word ‘unlikely’ in the report before? Why had she believed for all these years that she was some kind of hopeless case? When Jake had suggested they’d both been out of their minds after she’d lost Thomas in the accident it had been truer than they’d realised!
She ran across the hall into Saskia’s room. Her daughter
was perched on the end of the bed, which was strewn with all manner of colourful clothing. The pink suitcase that lay open in front of her already had several items folded neatly inside it.
‘I’ve got to drive into town and I want you to come with me, sweetheart. There’s something I need to buy from the chemist’s.’
‘But won’t Papa be home soon?’
‘We can be there and back before he gets home. Come on, scamp … get your coat and boots on and we’ll go.’
‘Okay—but as long as I can keep packing when I get back.’
‘Of course you can. I’ll even come and help you.’
At the old-fashioned look her daughter gave her, Ailsa held up her hands. ‘Okay … I know you’re a big girl now—but sometimes even big grown-up girls need a little help. I know
I
do from time to time.’
An hour or so later Ailsa was in the bathroom, retouching her lipstick, when she heard Jake’s key in the door. She’d exchanged the serviceable jeans and sweatshirt she’d been working around the house in for smart black trousers and a cream blouse with broderie anglaise on the bodice and cuffs. She’d brushed her waist-length hair so many times that it positively crackled. Now she was seized with butterflies as she slowly descended the staircase, to find her handsome husband waiting for her with the most stunning bouquet of flowers in his hand. The look in his arresting diamond-chipped blue eyes commanded her attention far more avidly than the glorious bouquet did.
‘Well, well, well—what have we here? You’re looking particularly ravishing today, Mrs Larsen … Did you dress in that outfit especially for me?’ he drawled.
‘Yes, I did. They’re beautiful … are they for me?’ She gazed appreciatively at the flowers.
‘They certainly are. Put them on the sideboard there for a minute, will you? I want to kiss you hello.’
Seconds later she found herself enfolded in Jake’s arms, luxuriating in the sense of warmth and security and strong male protectiveness she always experienced whenever she leant her head against his chest and he embraced her. ‘Mmm …’ she murmured. ‘You smell nice.’
‘A man’s got to do his best to keep his woman satisfied—and that includes wearing her favourite cologne.’
Lifting her face up to his at that provocative comment, Ailsa happily received the urgent, hot, hard kiss he gave her. She made a little sound of pleasure as the tips of her breasts tingled fiercely, then drew her lips away so that she could talk. ‘The flowers are a lovely surprise. Coincidentally, today I have a surprise for you as well.’
‘You do?’ He gave her one of his charming crooked grins.
‘I do.’
‘Well? Are you going to tell me what it is? Or do you intend to keep me standing here in suspense all evening?’
She took a deep breath in, wanting to savour every moment of this time when she would share her momentous news with her beloved husband, knowing that the memory would be written on her heart for ever. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I’m pregnant. As unbelievable as it sounds, I really am. I’ve done a test and everything.’
‘But … but how?’
Ailsa smiled. ‘Now is hardly the time for me to tell you about the birds and the bees, Jake.’
He held her away from him for a long moment, his
hands curled round the tops of her arms, his expression stunned, as if he hardly dared believe that what she told him might be true.
‘I reread the doctor’s report I was given when I left the hospital after the accident and it said that I was “unlikely” to be able to get pregnant and carry a child to full term. It didn’t say it was
impossible.
I missed that crucial part, Jake. All these years I’ve believed that I could never have another child and it wasn’t true … it wasn’t true!’
‘What about the part that says you might not be able to carry the child full term? As wonderful—as
beyond
wonderful—as this news is, I don’t want you risking your life to have another baby, Ailsa. Just the thought I could lose you makes me go cold.’
‘I’m not going to risk my life, I promise. I’ll see a doctor as soon as possible. I’ll have all the checks, I’ll do everything I can to maximise my chances of having a healthy baby and a safe delivery. What do you say to that?’
She anxiously held her breath when Jake didn’t immediately reply.
‘Do you think it’s too soon?’ she asked. ‘Do you think we should wait until we’ve been together for a while again … before we have another baby, I mean?’
Just when she thought he might believe just that, his sculpted lips formed the most dazzling, heartrending smile. ‘Okay. Okay, this is really happening, isn’t it? Tomorrow I’ll take the day off and we’ll make an appointment with the best damn obstetrician I can find. You’ll have the best care—the best treatment that money can buy. And I
don’t
think we should wait to have another baby until we’ve been together for a while … are you crazy? Dear God, Ailsa … what did I ever do to deserve a miracle such as this?’