Andrew had not said much on the way down, and he was equally as quiet as we went up the hill. He seemed to be lost in thought, preoccupied, and I decided not to pry. If there was something on his mind, something he wanted to tell me, he would do so in his own good time. From the beginning of our marriage he had always shared everything with me, and continued to do so, as had I with him.
Diana once said that we were each other's best friend as well as husband and wife and lovers, and this was true. We loved each other on many different levels, and even though Sarah was my dearest girlfriend and Andrew was close to Jack Underwood, he and I were inseparable and spent almost all of our free time together. He was not the kind of man who went off on his own, drinking and carousing with his male companions or following his own pursuits; in many ways he was something of a homebody, and certainly he was a wonderful father, very close to his children.
At one moment Andrew put his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer. Glancing up at the incredible night sky, he sighed deeply several times. I recognized that these were sighs of contentment, and I was pleased he felt so relaxed and at peace, as I was now that he was back with me and close by my side.
We lay together, my husband and I, on top of our bed. The room was cool from the air conditioning and dimly lit by two small lamps on each of the bedside tables. But because I had left the draperies open to the night sky, moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, bathing the room in a soft radiance.
Andrew moved closer to me, pushed himself up on one elbow, and looked down into my face, moving a strand of hair away as he did. "I missed you this week," he murmured.
"I missed you too, and I hate it when we quarrel."
"So do I. But it was merely a small storm in an even smaller teacup. Let's forget it, shall we, and move on. To more important things."
He paused for a moment or two, and as I looked up at him, I saw a reflective expression settle on his face. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Finally, he said, "There's something I want to say… to tell you… how I feel about something."
"What? What is it?" I asked quickly, sensing that this was important.
Leaning closer to me, he said softly, "I'd like another child. Wouldn't you, Mal?"
"Yes. Yes, I would," I answered without a moment's hesitation, thinking how like him it was to suddenly voice an idea I had been turning over in my mind of late.
I felt him smile against my cheek, and I knew he was happy at my unequivocal positive response.
"Let me love you," he said against my hair, stroking my cheek as he spoke. Then he touched the strap of my nightgown a little impatiently. "Take this off, darling. Please."'
As I pulled the short silk shift up and over my head and dropped it onto the floor, he got off the bed, slipped out of his pajamas, and a split second later he was next to me again, taking me in his arms, bending over me intently, seeking my mouth with his.
He kissed me over and over again, his lips moving from my mouth to each of my eyelids, onto my nose and forehead, and down to nestle in my neck. He stroked my shoulder and my breasts, tenderness in his every movement; then he began to kiss my nipple while his hand slid down onto my inner thigh. An instant later his questing fingers had found the innermost core of me, and he caressed me expertly, delicately, and I felt a sudden surge of warmth spreading through me.
Sighing, I stirred in his arms, arching my body, pressing closer to him, my longing for him paramount in my mind. I put my arms around his neck, and as I did so he began to kiss my mouth again, his passion rising. And I knew that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It had always been like this between us; our desire for each other had never waned in all the years of our marriage.
He was ready for me now, just as I was ready for him, and I met his passion with intense ardor, arching up, cleaving to him as he entered me. Instantly we found our own rhythm, moving against each other with mounting excitement.
Suddenly, abruptly, Andrew stopped.
I snapped my eyes open and looked up into his face hovering so close. His hands were braced on either side of me, and he was holding his body very still above mine. He stared down at me for the longest time, searching my face.
His eyes were vividly blue, so blue they almost blinded me, and as we gazed at each other, drowning in each other's eyes, neither one of us was able to look away. It was as though we were plunging deeply into each other's souls, merging to become one.
The silence between us was a palpable thing. He broke it when he said in a voice that was low and thickened by emotion, "My wife, my darling wife. I love you, I've always loved you and I always will."
"Oh Andrew, I love you too," I breathed. "Forever." And reaching up, I touched his face, my love for him spilling out of me.
A faint smile flickered onto his mouth and was instantly gone. He brought his face down to mine, kissing me lightly, tenderly. His tongue slid into my mouth, mine curled against his, and we shared a moment of the most profound intimacy.
Sudden heat flared in me again, took hold of me. "I want you," I whispered.
"And I want you," he answered, and in the pale light I saw the need and urgency in his eyes, the excitement on his face.
Slowly, gently at first, Andrew began to move once more. His speed increased, as did mine; our movements became almost violent as we spun out of control.
I closed my eyes, swept along by wave after wave of ecstasy, excited by the things Andrew was whispering to me. We clung to each other, and as I felt that first sharp surge of intense pleasure, I gasped, then called his name. Like an echo coming back to me, I heard him crying mine, and we rushed headlong toward a rapturous climax, reaching fulfillment together.
We had turned out the lights and lay in the darkness, curled up under the quilt, wrapped in each other's arms. I felt languorous, satiated after our explosive sexual release and overwhelmed by the love I felt for Andrew. He was my life, my whole existence. I was so lucky. There was no woman luckier.
I nestled into him, listening to his even breathing, thankful that it was normal again. During our hectic lovemaking he had started to pant, then gasp, and even after he had collapsed against me, his breathing had been extremely labored.
Now I said quietly, "Your breathing was so strange, I was worried."
"Why, darling?"
"For a split second I thought you were having a heart attack."
He laughed. "Don't be silly. I was very turned on, overexcited. I thought I was going to explode. If you want the truth, Mal, I couldn't seem to get enough of you tonight."
"I'm glad of that," I murmured. "The feeling's mutual."
"I'd rather gathered that." He kissed the top of my head. "Happy?"
"Deliriously, ecstatically." I turned my face, buried it against his chest. "You're the very best."
"I'd better be."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want you looking elsewhere," he said in a teasing tone, laughing again.
"Fat chance of that, Mr. Keswick!"
He tightened his arms around me. "Oh, Mal, my beautiful wife, you're such a wonder, the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You won't have to… I'll be with you all the days of our lives."
"Thank God for that. Listen, do you think we made a baby tonight?"
"I hope so." I craned my neck to look up at him, but his face was obscured in the murky light. Slipping out of his arms, I pushed myself up until my head was next to his on the pillows. I bent over him, took his face between my hands, and kissed him.
When we finally drew apart, I said with a small smile, "But don't worry if we haven't. Think of all the fun we're going to have trying."