Текст книги "Forever And A Day"

Автор книги: Ann Gimpel

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Lars had just enough presence of mind to shut off the brazier. He turned to Tamara and began to undress her, starting with her shoes. He rubbed the insteps of her feet and she wriggled her toes against his hands, making little mewing noises. He ran his hands up her ankles and calves, enjoying the feel of her sleekly muscled legs, before unfastening her pants.

“Dear God but your hands feel heavenly.” She smiled dreamily. “It’s almost painful to tear myself away, but this will be easier if we stand.” She got to her feet and her pants pooled around her. She stepped out of them and reached for the waistband of his sweats, running a palm over his hard-on. He leaned into her, wanting her to touch him, and she did, but only for a moment. She slid his sweatpants over his hips with firm hands, followed by his shorts. His cock sprang free. Tamara’s fingers hovered so close he felt the heat of them, but she made a grab for the bottom of his shirt instead and tugged it upward.

He realized he still had his slippers on and worked his way out of them so he could untangle himself from the welter of pants and underwear around his feet. While his face was buried in his shirt, something hot and electric moved across his chest. Her mouth. She kissed his nipples, sending a jolt of white heat to his groin. He escaped from the shirt and tossed it onto a seat. “If you do much more of that, we will never make it to our cat forms.”

She looked up at him, beautiful in muted light that played through the gazebo windows. “I’ve never done that before.”

He was so hot, thinking wasn’t easy. “Done what?” His tongue felt thick and uncooperative.

“Made love in my other form.” She cocked her head to one side. “Have you?”

“Yes, but not with another shifter. I have sometimes spent months as a cat, living as they do.”

She tilted her chin up. “You’ll be helping me? I…”

“Your cat will know what to do. Trust her.”

“I don’t know.” Tamara grinned ruefully. “She’s been mighty quiet these past few minutes. No clamoring to get out. No commentary at all.”

He spanned her waist, reveling in her silky skin, and then moved upward to tease her breasts. Warm and firm, with pebbled nipples, they felt as if they belonged in his hands. She moaned and pressed into his touch. Sandwiched between their bodies, his cock twitched and jumped, reminding him of its need.

He unzipped her jacket. Once it was off her shoulders, he pulled her stretchy top over her head and opened his arms. She wrapped hers around him and turned her face up for a kiss. He wanted everything. Kissing, hugging, fondling, fucking. He sank his tongue into her mouth and she sparred with it. He ran his hands down her naked back, found the taut globes of her ass, and pulled her hard against his erection. Lars groaned at her proximity; she felt so goddamned good. No one had ever felt like that before. Like they’d been born to be a part of him.

His breathing quickened as the mate bond spun its magic. The woman in his arms was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Reluctantly, he lifted his mouth form hers. “It is time,” he said, voice harsh with passion and unfulfilled need.

She stepped back; the air around her shimmered and the sleek form of her mountain cat emerged. She padded around him, sniffing enthusiastically. On the second transit, she rasped her sandpaper tongue over his burning erection. He laughed. “If that is not a hurry up, I have never been on the receiving end of one. We can move out of doors, liebchen. The garden’s fence is solid. It will shroud us from view.”

He crossed the room in a single stride and pushed the door open. Tamara leaped through, made an acrobatic midair twist, and ended up on all fours facing him, tongue lolling. Lars reached for his cat from. Unlike Tamara’s cat, his had been champing at the bit for freedom. He knew what was about to happen and couldn’t wait.

Lars rubbed noses with Tamara. His cock was so taut, butting from its furred sheath, it was almost uncomfortable. He licked her snout. She licked back and then wove her head between his back legs and licked his cock shamelessly. The heat was so intense, he almost came. His cat jerked away from her questing tongue and licked her vulva. Things spun out of control fast after that. Animal sex wasn’t complicated. No foreplay. No hands to smooth or fingers to explore.

She planted her feet firmly and twisted her tail out of the way. He mounted her, sank his teeth into the side of her neck, and drove his cock all the way inside. The heat of her closing around him made him crazy with lust. Semen pumped out almost immediately, and kept on pumping.

She tilted her head back, yowling and screeching as a climax ripped through her. He plumbed her deeper and she contracted her muscles around him. They stood joined for long moments. He licked the place he’d bitten her neck; she turned her head and licked his mouth.

“We must remain like this until my erection goes down, liebchen.”

“Why?”

“Cat cocks have barbs. I will hurt you if I withdraw when I am this hard.”

She arched beneath him. He shifted more of his weight to his hind legs and listened while his cat and Tamara’s crooned to one another. It was sweet and tender and totally unexpected. The tension in his cock finally lessened. He tugged gently to loosen its grip on her pussy.

Once they were free, she purred; the sound was deep and throaty and made him feel on top of the world. She nudged him with her snout, cried, “Run with me,” and took off through Garen’s gated half-acre garden.

Lars bolted after her, impressed by both her speed and her agility. She weighed less than him by a good fifty or sixty pounds, and she led him a merry chase in, out, and around bushes, flowers, and decorative shrubs. When she finally drew to a halt, panting, sides heaving, he dropped to his belly before her and rolled over in mock surrender. “You win, liebchen.”

“I don’t know about winning, but that was fun.”

“Ready to be human again?” When she nodded, he got to his feet, summoned magic and shifted. The air around her glistened with iridescent motes in the rain. Tamara stepped out of them, rosy and smiling, and right into his arms.

“It was fun,” he said. “It has been long since I played—at anything.”

“Sure and life can be pretty grim. It helps to lighten things up.” A shadow crossed her face. “Did I, er, was I all right?”

“You were perfect, love. I could not have asked for more. Did I hurt you?”

“A little, but I came so hard it was worth it.” She looked thoughtful. “Sex is different that way. Hotter, more intense. After you licked my pussy, I couldn’t have stopped if the world blew up around us.”

He snorted. “I had a hell of a time not laying you down on that bench in the gazebo. You are beautiful, perfect, impossible to resist.”

She shivered in his arms. “Brrr. I wasn’t cold until just now. Better watch those compliments, I’ll become unbearable.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the gazebo. He wanted to make love to her again, but she had to be sore. Maybe they could dry off and curl up and sleep for a few hours.

He set her down once they were inside the summerhouse and rummaged for towels, finding some beneath the bench seat. He started to dry her, but she yanked the towel away. “Silly. I can manage.”

“Maybe we could sleep for a bit.”

“Och, and then eat, and then make love again.” She shot him a coquettish grin. “I’ve got your number, big boy.”

Lars set his towel down and eyed her. “If you ran the universe, how would you arrange the next few hours?”

“Let’s see.” She snapped her fingers. “Sure and I’d vote for a nap, maybe some decent spirits, and as much more of that,” she made a grab for his half-hard cock, “as I could get.”

“Are you sore?”

She rubbed her thighs together experimentally. “Maybe a little, but not so much as to slow things down.” She winked broadly. “We Irish are a randy bunch. It’s the long winters and all those potatoes and Irish whiskey.”

He sorted his clothes and began pulling them on. So did she. When they’d worked their way down to shoes and socks, she said, “Is there any way I could be calling my folks? Sure and they’re likely worried half to death about me since you killed my cell phone.”

He snorted. “I suppose that would be one way to describe it. The terms we use in the field are dismantle or deactivate. I dismantled your phone, liebchen.”

“I like my description better. It’s more…colorful. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Every phone line in Garen’s house is scrambled, so you can call your parents. It might be best if you did not tell them exactly where—”

“Give me credit for a wee bit of brains.” She placed her hands on her hips. “It will be enough for them to know I’m alive and in good hands.”

The rain, which had been pattering on the gazebo’s roof, suddenly got much louder. Lars glanced out a window. “Damn! Hail. Would you like me to run for an umbrella?”

“It’s all right, Sir Galahad.” She grinned. “Sure and I won’t melt.”

•●•

Tamara climbed the stairs with Lars right behind her. They’d run into Garen and Miranda when they’d come back inside the house during the hail storm. Garen had insisted on cracking a bottle of champagne to celebrate their mating, and Miranda had immediately begun planning their wedding. It wouldn’t happen until June, so they had a few months, but Miranda assured her they’d need every minute of it to attend to all the details. About all they’d decided was to hold the ceremony at Lars’ home in Heidelberg.

They’d sat in the study for hours chatting until Tamara had actually dozed off. Lars had excused them then and they were finally on their way to their room. She tried to think how long it had been since she’d had a night’s sleep and couldn’t come up with an answer. Certainly not since she’d killed Jaret, and that had to have been going on a few days ago. Maybe more. She tried counting days, but her brain was too fuzzy.

Lars opened the door to their room; she crossed it on autopilot and fell onto the bed, where he took her clothes off. She tried to help, but he batted her hands away and crooned to her in German.

“What are you saying?” she asked sleepily.

“That I love you. That you are very beautiful and very precious.”

“It’s the first thing I want to do.”

“What is?” He addressed his own clothing, dropping it in a heap on a nearby chair.

“Learn German.”

“The Company has language tapes for almost every language.”

“Sure and you would. Makes sense.”

“What I speak is a dialect. Much of it has fallen out of usage, but if you tackle modern German, you will be able to understand most of my words. We can practice together, so long as you promise to help me with Irish.” He pulled the window curtains and joined her in the large, comfy bed. She rolled into his arms and was asleep in moments.

When she woke, the room was truly dark, so much so she knew night had not only fallen, but moved past midnight. The gentle sound of Lars’ breathing next to her was reassuring. She reached for him and was surprised when he said, “You are awake, liebchen.”

“Yes, but how come you are?”

“I do not need much sleep.” He rolled over and struck a match. The smell of sulphur was sharp for a moment, and then a candle flickered to life on his bedside table. She sat up in bed and turned so she could look at him. His ice-blond hair was tousled from the pillow. His face, while still sharp planes and angles, looked softer somehow, and his gray eyes reflected twin flames in their depths from the candlelight.

She traced the line of his cheekbone down to his jaw. “I can’t believe how lucky I was to find you. You’re such a beautiful man. Kind and compassionate, even though you try to come off tough.”

“What was that you said out in the gazebo? Something like, I have your number.” He grinned. It transformed his face into one that would have fit a mischievous imp. “Maybe my, um, softer side can be our little secret. The men would never stop haranguing me if they overheard you yapping about kind and compassionate.”

“Never fear.” She moved her hand downward, trailing her fingers over his well-muscled shoulders and across his chest. “Earlier you said you were falling in love with me. Sure and that’s a two way street.”

He laid a hand over hers, trapping it atop his hard, flat stomach. “Say it, liebchen.” He speared her with his smoky gaze. “If I could get the words out, anyone can.”

She felt the words, tasted them on her tongue. Her cat purred deep inside, urging her on. “If wanting to spend my life with you, raise children with you, get up with you by my side every day for the rest of my life is love, then yes, I’m in love with you.” Her throat thickened. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

“Thank you. I am ashamed to admit it, but I needed to hear you say just that.”

“Why ashamed?”

A sheepish grin spread over his face. “Because big, tough espionage agents are not supposed to require such things.” He snorted. “You should have watched the struggles Garen went through before he gave up and accepted he and Miranda were mates.”

His cock stirred to life just south of her hand. The tip grazed her and she wriggled her hand from beneath his and curved her fingers around his growing erection. “Guess this little man didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.” She squeezed firmly and his cock jumped in her hand.

Lars laughed. “He sees himself as a pretty important fellow.”

She bent forward and ran her mouth down his breastbone and across his stomach. Just before she took him into her mouth, she looked up long enough to say, “Good, because I see him as pretty important too.”

Tamara licked and kissed up and down the length of Lars’ shaft. His hips settled into a rhythm, and he thrust himself into the combination of mouth and hands she worked him with. Her nipples pebbled as lust electrified her nerves. Her pussy flooded and the sensitive nubbin between her legs swelled with desire.

He pulled her body upward until she kneeled over him. Sliding forward, she seated him at the entrance to her body and pushed until he was all the way inside. He felt incredible, stretching her with his amazing cock. He was so big, he reached places no one else ever had. She settled onto bent knees and watched his stern features melt into ecstasy as they made love.

Lars moved a hand between her legs and settled the other on one of her breasts. He rubbed her clit in small, sensuous circles and twirled her nipple into a hard, aching point before moving to the other breast. Between his cock inside her and his fingers on the center of her sensation, an orgasm spilled from her, racked her with delight, and left her gasping and panting above him.

“Perfect.” He smiled up at her. “I wanted to watch you come.”

She remembered it was what she’d wanted to do, but she’d been so hot her mind had turned to mush. He moved his hands to her hips and thrust deep, withdrew, and did it again. “This one will be for us,” he said. “Touch yourself for me, like you did before.”

She slid a hand between her legs, capturing her passion-slick nub. Something shifted and she felt him in her mind. Felt his body as if it were hers. Felt the heat of her around his cock. The added sensation was like a white-hot jolt of pure lust. She thrust hard against him, matching him stroke for stroke as they urged each other on.

When she came, she felt his orgasm deep in the pit of her belly and shrieked, almost beyond herself, drowning in sensation. There were no more boundaries. She was him. He was her. Joined body and soul forever.

She fell atop him, so shattered breathing took all her concentration. When she could talk again, she asked. “What happened? What did you do?”

“It was not me, but us. When we made love as cats, it cemented the mate bond. We are truly one now, my darling, my love. You are mine and I am yours for forever and a day.”

“Sure and I love the sound of that,” she murmured. “Forever and a day, mo croi, my heart. I will love you always.”

Epilogue

Three months later

Heidelberg, Germany

Lars twisted from side to side, trying to make certain his tuxedo didn’t have any problems and that the studs and cufflinks were all in their proper holes. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He was smiling like a besotted fool. He’d have to do something about that, or he’d ruin his image for sure.

There was a lot to smile about, though. Tamara had taken to field agent training like a sculptor to a favored medium. She’d made such excellent progress, both he and Garen were positive she’d be ready for simple assignments before the end of the year.

The last three months had been little short of idyllic. They’d spent the first month with Garen and Miranda. Between field drills and physical conditioning during the day, intense, crazy lovemaking every night, and letting their cats out to romp and play, Lars was a happy man. He’d never been so fulfilled, heart, body, and soul. He’d wondered what sort of physical fitness Tamara had chosen to stay in shape. It turned out she biked and ran, plus lifting weights. He’d added pilates and yoga, for concentration and balance, to her regimen, along with target practice.

They’d traveled to his home in Heidelberg in early May, and he’d introduced her to The Company’s agents stationed in Europe. Though she’d had conversations with her family, she hadn’t seen them. He’d spoken with her father to formally request her hand in marriage. The other shifter had told Lars flat out that if his daughter wasn’t happy, he’d personally hunt him down and annihilate him. Both men had laughed after that, but Lars recognized truth when he heard it.

He was a bit nervous about meeting Tamara’s family. All of them were coming for the wedding, even the brothers and sisters from her parents’ earlier lives that she’d never met. While excited by the prospect of meeting more family, Tamara was apprehensive too. Everyone knew she’d avenged Moira’s death, and she was uncertain if they’d laud her or tell her she’d been a fool.

Lars drew in a deep, appreciative breath. He’d have to get moving soon, but he could take a few moments more to daydream about his mate, soon to be his wife. Their relationship had deepened and blossomed. His cock stirred, but then it hardened whenever he thought about her. Beyond the sexual part of their relationship, though, they were well-matched. They both loved exercise and reading and watching old movies on late night television. When he’d admitted he was a closet opera buff, she’d clapped her hands together in delight, and they’d launched into a five hour conversation about various operas, with promises to see every single one over the next few years.

He’d moved well beyond falling in love to being in love. Deeply so. If that pseudo-cop hadn’t pulled him over on his way to the airport and kept him cooling his heels, he’d never have met her. To have something so important reduced to chance chilled him, until he understood someone had been watching out for him that day. If shifters had a god, maybe he or she had decided he’d been alone long enough, and had taken pity on him.

A sharp tap sounded on his door just before Garen tumbled into his room. He whistled long and low. “My but aren’t we resplendent. Where’d you get the tux?”

“Back of my closet.”

“Did you check it for moth holes?” Garen circled him like an overactive helicopter.

“Some of us keep mothballs in our armoires.” He held out a hand. Garen clasped it. “Are the guests starting to arrive?”

Garen nodded. He clamped his jaw together, muttered, “What the hell,” and drew Lars into a quick embrace. “I’m so happy for you.” He clapped him on the back and withdrew a few steps.

“Thanks. Who would have guessed a year ago that before twelve months passed, we’d both be mated men?”

“Good point. Are you ready?”

Lars nodded. He and Garen headed for the door at the same time, bumping shoulders before he motioned his oldest friend through ahead of him.

•●•

Tamara wove lily of the valley into her dark tresses with hands that only shook a little. She’d redone her makeup twice because tears had ruined it. She assessed her dress in the floor-length mirror. It truly was beautiful. Made of heirloom lace and silk, it had been in Lars’ family for hundreds of years. Fine embroidery in pink, blue, and lilac covered the snug bodice. The gown had a dropped waist and hugged her figure from shoulder to hipline. Long, flowing sleeves of sheer silk fell to her wrists. The skirt draped in layers and ended in a train that was so long, she was afraid she’d trip over it in her high heels.

She flexed a foot and took a few tentative steps. Though she’d practiced walking in the shoes in the weeks since she’d bought them, they were still wretchedly uncomfortable.

“Can I come in?” Miranda called from the other side of the closed door.

“Please.” Tamara turned and grinned at her friend as she slipped into the room. “By all the bloody saints, I’m nervous as a whore in church.”

Miranda threw back her head and laughed. “You’re funny. Do I look okay to be your matron of honor?”

Tamara glanced at the lavender linen suit, silk blouse, and sensible flat pumps. “You look gorgeous. Sure and I’d like to borrow your shoes.”

“Eh, you can kick yours off right after the ceremony. I’m so damned tall. If I wore heels, I’d tower over Garen.”

“He wouldn’t care. I’ve never seen a man more in love, except maybe Lars.”

Miranda snorted. “I know he wouldn’t, but I would. Christ! I’ve felt like an overgrown moose my whole life. I hit six feet in something like seventh grade. I was taller than everyone—boys too, for years.”

She plucked pins from Tamara’s nerveless fingers and went to work on her hair, weaving more flowers into it. “I’ve never seen Lars so happy. I swear, he’s like a new man. Watching the two of you together has damn near brought me to tears a couple of times and I don’t cry easily.”

Tamara smiled softly. “Don’t. I cry at the drop of a hat. Sure and I don’t want to start all over on my makeup—again.” She met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “It has been good. Amazingly so. I never thought I’d fall head over heels in love and have every day just get better and better. It’s not that we don’t have our moments, but he listens to me. If we can’t agree, we work together to find common ground.”

“Being able to talk is important. Garen and I had hellacious arguments in the beginning, but they’ve thinned out. There.” She handed Tamara a mirror. “What do you think?”

Tamara turned slowly, holding the glass so she could see the back of her hair. “It’s wonderful. Were you a hair stylist in a former life?”

“Nope. I didn’t even have any girlfriends to trade ‘dos’ with in high school. Once I shifted, and my aunt made me feel like shit about it, I kept to myself.”

Tamara’s heart hurt for her friend. Miranda had told her about the dirty, fucking shifter epithets her aunt had hurled at her. At least the woman hadn’t turned her in, but Miranda had grown up feeling seriously flawed. It was one reason she’d gone into the Green Berets: to prove her mettle, while she hid from the world.

She wrapped her arms around Miranda. “Sure and my family will love you.” Tamara straightened. “Speaking of which, let’s go. I want to get the hugs and kisses with Mum and Da over with before the ceremony. Och, sure and I’ll never get through it without dissolving into tears.”

“Of course you will.” Miranda winked. “Be prepared, though. I saw Lars before I came in here.” She whistled. “Wow! What a knockout that man is in formal clothes. If I wasn’t madly in love with Garen, I swear I’d give you a run for your money.”

Tamara laughed and walked out into the hall. She looped her train around her wrist to keep it out of the way before she tackled the stairs. Lars may have said he lived in a manor house, but it was more like a castle. Ten thousand square feet of marble, leaded crystal, granite, and stone sat atop a hill, surrounded by stables, servants’ quarters, and other outbuildings. It had taken her a couple of weeks to find her way around, and she still hadn’t seen either attic or basement. The place was furnished with priceless antiques and thick, Aubusson rugs. Lars assured her he’d bought everything new. His things had become antiques simply by dint of enough time passing.

Halfway down the staircase her parents’ voices drifted up to her. Tamara tottered down the rest of the way as fast as she could. “Mum? Da?” she cried.

“Right here, sweetheart.” Her da, a huge, strongly muscled man with coal black hair and green eyes, strode toward her and crushed her against him. “Sure and ’tis good to see you again, princess.” He was dressed as formally as she’d ever seen him in a crisp, black suit, an off-white shirt, and a maroon tie.

Tamara didn’t trust herself to speak. She clung to her father, filled with love for the man who’d raised her to believe in herself. It could have been so much worse. She could have had dead parents and a bigoted aunt like Miranda’s.

Her mum closed on them in a rustle of pale green long silk skirts with a hip-length ivory tunic atop them. Her blonde hair was braided in an intricate pattern. Blue eyes, exactly like Tamara’s, glowed with pride. “’Tis a beautiful bride you are, darlin’.”

“Och, thanks, Mum. Sure and I’ve missed the two of you.”

“How about me?” Her brother, Devon, flanked by her other three brothers, crowded close.

“Well,” she shot him a mock frown, “maybe not you so much.”

“Little sisters always were a pain in the ass,” he declared just before he wormed between her and her da and hugged her.

Tamara caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of one eye. She disengaged herself from her brother’s arms and turned to face Lars and Garen. “Sure and it’s bad luck for you to see me before the wedding.”

“I will take my chances.” Lars grasped both her hands in his and bent to kiss her cheek. “You are so beautiful. I have to be the luckiest man alive.”

“Just so long as you always treat her that way, we’ll have no truck with one another.” Christian MacBride offered his hand. Letting go of Tamara, Lars gripped it.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” He half bowed over their clasped hands.

Christian cocked his head to one side. “One of the old ones, aren’t you? I’d known, but forgotten.” He bowed in return. When he straightened, he said, “Perhaps we can catch a wee bit of time after the ceremony to get to know one another better.”

“I would like that.” Lars hesitated. “It is probably safe enough for us to visit Ireland. I was waiting to see…”

“No need to say anything further,” Christian jumped into the breach when Lars’ words trailed off and eyed his daughter. “Come over here. There are quite a few family members who’d dearly love to meet you.”

“Sure and she’ll be with you in just a moment.” Leona took her daughter’s arm and led her a few feet away. “Thanks be to you, darlin’,” she whispered low, “I’ll be havin’ my family whole again. Your da was so afraid if the lot of us gathered, someone would figure out what we were.”

“There’s still that risk,” Tamara whispered back, concern tugging at her midsection.

“Aye, but Christian was willin’ to let the chips fall. He wanted everyone together for your weddin’.”

Tamara kissed her mother’s cheek, inhaling her familiar, soothing fragrance. “I love you, Mum.”

“Aw, darlin’, my darlin’ daughter, not near so much as I love you. Get on wi’ you now. We can throw cake at each other after the ceremony.”

“Och, a fine old Irish tradition.”

Her mother grinned. “That it is.”

Tamara glanced toward where her father stood, surrounded by at least twenty others, maybe a few more. My brothers and sisters. She hurried to his side, anxious to meet each and every one.

•●•

Lars stepped out onto one of many terraces leading from the second floor ballroom of his home and gazed at the mix of antique and modern that was Heidelberg. The ancient German city had never looked so beautiful to him. The night was warm and clear, an idyllic summer evening for a perfect wedding. The actual ceremony had been brief, performed by a magistrate. Nonetheless, the words had etched into his soul. He would honor, protect, and love Tamara to the end of their days. “And beyond if I have anything to say about it,” he murmured.

“What was that, my love?” Tamara floated to his side. Swathed in his great-grandmother’s gown, she was unbelievably striking. The dress had needed serious alterations, since Tamara was much taller than women from earlier times, but the seamstress had a deft hand, and the gown looked as if it has been made for her.

He smiled. “I was just taking a breather from our guests.”

“Me too.” She laughed and the sound resonated in his soul. “Neither of us are exactly social butterfly types. I adore my family, but I looked around and didn’t see you, so I came a’hunting.”

“You can hunt me down anytime you want.”

“Truly?”

“Of course. We are mated, and married. It makes me eminently hunt-able.”

“Do you suppose we might live here for a while?”

Something lay beneath her words, maybe longing for the home she was certain she’d lost forever. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “What would please you?”

She drew her brows together. He’d come to recognize her expressions and knew she was taking her time because he’d asked an important question. “I want to stay here and maybe have a country house in Ireland too.” She grinned impishly. “Sure and then when we wanted to get away from this side of the Atlantic, we could visit Garen and Miranda. Och, what else?” Her eyes twinkled up at him. “You could be teaching me how to fly one of the bigger planes. I thought to mention it before—”

“It is not as if we have had large chunks of spare time. Everything you want is not only possible, but easily done.”

“You wouldn’t mind being close to Da and Mum a few weeks of the year? And all those brand new family members we just met.”

“I respect your father. He and I have much to talk about. He has not made a firm decision, but he may return to working for us, particularly since you are part of our operations now.” Lars snorted. “Somehow, I suspect he wants to keep a close eye on you, and determine for himself just how trustworthy I am.”