sound of contentment in their understanding. Her eyes flirted with the confidence he’d imparted. “Well, I think it’s time you put my feet back on the ground so we can resume our journey.”
He kissed her to make up for the more intimate disconnection and there was no awkwardness at all about fixing themselves up before rejoining the public world. Acceptance, approval, liking, respect, Beau happily recited to himself as he waited for Maggie to complete the purchase of a sinful piece of sensuality for Mrs. Featherfield.
There was one thing wrong with the list, he decided. Liking wasn’t strong enough.
He loved Maggie Stowe.
He felt he couldn’t bear her out of his sight, let alone out of his life. It wasn’t simply the part of him she carried inside her—their child—that made it essential to convince her that marriage to him could never conceivably be a prison. It was the person she was...his mate in every sense he could think of. He wanted—needed from her—the commitment of marriage.
IT WAS strange for Maggie to be so close to another person. It felt right. Everything with Beau now felt right. But it was strange, having someone close who seemed to understand whatever was going on in her mind, who could virtually anticipate her impulses, who was constantly there for her.
She wasn’t used to it. She’d never had a relationship like this. Even the mental affinity and affection she’d shared with Vivian did not approach the depth of this closeness with Beau. She missed Vivian, but she had never doubted she could go on without him. With Beau it was different. He pervaded almost every breath she breathed, giving it a buoyant happiness she had never known. Take him away...she shied from thinking about that, afraid of how bereft she might feel.
Enjoy the moment, she kept telling herself. Worrying about tomorrow was a waste of the present. Maybe she was living in a fool’s paradise, but it was paradise.
The days were filled with amazing sights; the towering black cathedral at Cologne, the fairytale castles along the Rhine River, the majestic mountains of Austria. Once they reached Italy, it became impossible to categorise the sheer romance of the places they explored...Lake Como, Verona, Venice with its intriguing history and location.
The nights were so intimate, Maggie forgot what it was like to be alone. Which was scary, since she had spent so many years on her own. Even when she had shared rooms, slept in dormitories of bunks, or camped out with a group, the sense of being an independent individual had never left her. Yet the longer she was with Beau, the more blurred became the line of separation between them.
From Paris onwards, he had rebooked their accommodation. Separate rooms were pointless. Neither of them wanted to be parted. There were moments when just looking at him—this man who excited all her senses—evoked the most extraordinary feelings of intense possessiveness.
He was a lover of great tenderness, as well as passion. He could draw her into sex, into loving, with a slow gentleness that eased her into new territories, new discoveries about herself, then take her with him to heights so wild and wonderful, her body would lurch with delight at the memory of it for days afterwards. He was inventive, thoughtful, responsive, challenging, and she didn’t have the slightest regret about giving in to the sexual attraction she’d wanted to explore with him. However, she did sometimes wonder if its potency coloured everything else they shared.
How long did passion last?
She had no answer to that question. No one to ask. No one to tell her. Impossible to bring it up with Beau. She couldn’t forget he had a vested interest in tying her to him, so how could she trust anything he said about the future? She could only trust what she knew they felt together now.
He rented a villa in Tuscany, intending it as a base for forays into Florence and other outings around the beautiful countryside. The villa was situated on a hill, giving a lovely view of olive groves and green fields dotted with wild red poppies. Maggie was instantly captivated by the soft quality of the light in Tuscany. It seemed to deepen colours and spread a magical sense of peace and well-being.
Having been situated in cities for most of their travelling, their move to the quiet and slower pace of this relaxing location had a strong appeal. It was also timely for Maggie. Apart from the tightness in her breasts, she had barely been aware of her pregnancy. Morning sickness hit with debilitating results.
At first she struggled to carry on as Beau’s tour companion, but three days of trying to ignore how unwell she felt, proved the impossibility of this endeavour. Each morning she had to ask Beau to stop their rental car so she could be sick on the side of the road. They missed out on getting into the Uffizi Palace in Florence because standing in the long queue for over an hour had resulted in her fainting. An unfightable fatigue swept over her in the afternoons, sapping her enthusiasm for sightseeing, and she dropped off to sleep during the return trips to the villa.
Beau’s kindness and patience and consideration for her were exemplary but she felt miserably guilty for holding him up, wasting his time and giving him the general unpleasantness of worrying about her. On the fourth day, she decided to beg off going anywhere, too conscious of being a drag on him to enjoy being a tourist.
When she’d rolled out of bed, the room had spun, forcing her to lie down again and keep very still until everything righted itself. Beau had gone to make her a cup of tea, hoping it would help to settle the queaziness she felt. When he came back, he was frowning in concern.
“Would you like to see a doctor, Maggie?” he asked, setting the tea on the bedside table. “Maybe you need iron tablets or...”
“No, I’ll be fine soon,” she quickly assured him, hating the thought of causing any fuss. “I’m sure this is just a phase, Beau. I’m sorry it’s inconveniencing you.”
“Inconveniencing...” It was plain he didn’t like the word, stiffening up and looking sharply at her.
Maggie sighed her impatience with any pretence. She didn’t feel like arguing the point so she simply said, “I want to stay here today, Beau. There’s no need to worry about me. I’ll just lie around and relax and...”
“Are you suggesting I leave you here and go off to Sienna as planned?” he broke in tersely.
“Why not? I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” she answered reasonably.
“Even if you are, it’s a hell of a judgment on me, Maggie, sending me off as though I wouldn’t care about you.”
He was offended, she realised, deeply offended by her assumption he would leave her to her own resources in these circumstances. As she stared at him, taking in his viewpoint, his face twisted with frustration.
“Damn it, Maggie! I said I’d look after you. It’s you who’s insisted on carrying on these past few days. Do you think I’ve enjoyed watching you push yourself?”
She frowned, confused by this further critical note on her handling of the situation. Didn’t he realise she’d been considering his needs?
He gestured hopelessly and turned away, walking to the end of the bed. His shoulders heaved and he swung around, his face anguished by some inner torment. “I kept telling myself to respect your right to make your own decisions, but I have the same right, Maggie, so don’t take it upon yourself to make decisions for me. Your welfare and that of our child is as much my responsibility as it is yours. It’s wrong for you to take that away from me, too.”
“Beau, this is a business trip for you,” she reminded him.
“Is that your excuse for holding yourself in and shutting me out?” he threw at her.
Maggie stared at him in bewilderment.
He expelled a sigh of deep exasperation and shook his head. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” he said dully, the anger gone as abruptly as it had burst forth.
“I’m