Page 23 of Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon

But then…then she did the one thing that brought Brigham to his knees.

Mellie held out her hand to him.

It was a proposition.

She wanted Brigham to join her.

Under the Christmastide moon.

“Come, my husband.”

There was so much left unsaid, hundreds of words he longed to say, though he could not find his voice as he sank to the ground beside her.

His wife.

The woman he’d lived all these years without, even though his heart had remained with her at Hockcliffe.

His entire body pulsed with need as she brushed his cheek with her hand before leaning in to set her lips upon his. This kiss was far different than their previous one at the cottage. That had been driven by a fiery need that had lain dormant between them for years. This kiss, this joining, went far deeper than pure lust, want, and desire.

Something inside Brigham reached out and took hold of Mellie, and he sensed it would always be that way. Denying his ever-present love for her, begging it to subside and recede, was futile.

Brigham pulled back as her brow furrowed in confusion.

There was much he needed to say, and this moment, this very intimate space of time, demanded he speak his piece.

“Mellie.” He would not allow the words to come in a rush of mumbling, unintelligible utterances. She was worth more than a hastily spoken vow. “You must know I loved you the day we wed, and I’ve loved you every day since. My commitment to you has never wavered, though I have not been the husband you needed or deserved.” When she made to close the distance between them and bring their lips back together, Brigham halted her. “I would not blame you if your love for me has waned over the years, as it was my own neglect of you and our marriage that caused the distance between us. However, from this day forward, even if your love for me never returns, I will remain by your side. Here at Hockcliffe or in London or even the great Sahara Desert. Wherever your heart leads you, I and my heart will follow. Anything you demand is yours.”

His heart hammered in his chest as he fell silent. The cool night air only served to make Brigham aware of the burning within him.

Mellie drew in a ragged breath. Her narrowed stare traveled no higher than the lapel of his coat as if she debated something.

“Do say something, please,” Brigham pleaded. He lifted her chin with his forefinger, returning her stare to his. “Do not leave my mind adrift too long.”

Yet, what he saw there was not confusion, puzzlement, or some great internal debate.

“Anything I demand?” Her lip turned up at the corner, and her eyes twinkled in the evening glow. “You will deny me nothing?”

Brigham swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. A nod was all he could muster in response to her question. He would walk to the ends of the Earth if she so demanded. He would rage a brutal war against anyone she named as foe. And he would give her any gift she longed to possess. All she need do is speak her command.

“Make love to me, Brigham.” Her chin lifted as if daring him to deny her. “Bed me properly under the Christmastide moon.”

She needn’t command aught else as he pulled her close and set his lips to hers.

With ungainly coordination, Brigham reached behind her and untied the sash about her waist and then began with the buttons down her back—the same buttons he’d expertly undone just that morning.

Why was the task immensely more difficult now?

Every inch of him knew why, and he pulled back, needing Mellie to speak of it.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips as she attempted to follow him.

Mellie paused, sensing what he asked of her. “I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you even more tomorrow.”

Holding her gaze, Brigham had no doubt that everything she spoke was the truth and rooted deep within her heart.

Swiftly, he moved through the buttons down the back of her gown.

Their labored breaths joined in the mere inches separating them and escaped into the night.