For once he seemed to have rendered her speechless.
He was inclined to remain so himself. But if he did not say it now, perhaps he never would. And such things were important to women, he believed. Perhaps they were equally important to men. "I love you," he said.
Her eyes brightened - with tears, he realized. "I love you," he told her again. "I am head over ears in love with you.
I adore you. I /love /you."
She was biting her lower lip. "Elliott," she said, "you do not need to - " His forefinger landed none too gently across her lips. "You have become as necessary to me as the air I breathe," he said. "Your beauty and your smiles wrap themselves about me and warm me to the heart - to the very soul. You have taught me to trust and to love again, and I trust and love /you/. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. More than I knew it was possible to love. And if you think I am making an ass of myself with such romantic hyperbole just because I want to make you feel better about admitting that you are happy, then I am going to have to take drastic measures." Her face filled with laughter - and radiance. Two tears spilled onto her cheeks. She blinked away any others that might have followed. /"What?" /she asked him.
He smiled slowly at her, and realized he was doing it - letting go his final defenses against the dangers of loving - when her own smile was arrested and she freed her hands and cupped his face gently with them. "Oh, my love," she said. "My love." The same words she had spoken that night in the library while he wept.
He had scarcely heard them then, but he heard their echo now. She had loved him for a long time, he realized. It was in her nature to love, but she had chosen to love /him/. "Do you have something to tell me?" he asked her.
She tipped her head to one side. "The baby?" she said. "There will be a baby, Elliott. Are you happy about it? Perhaps it will be your heir." "I am happy about the /baby,/" he said. "Son, daughter - it really does not matter." He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers.
She slid her arms up about his neck and leaned into him. "I am glad it is /here /we have spoken of it for the first time," she said. "I am glad it is /here /you have told me you love me. I will always, always love this place, Elliott. It will become sacred ground." "Not too sacred, I hope," he said. "It has just occurred to me that it has not rained for several days and that the ground will be dry. And this is a secluded spot. No one ever comes here." "Except us," she said. "Except us." And the gardeners who prevented this part of the park from becoming too overgrown and wild. But all the gardeners were busy with their scythes today, cutting the grass of the large lawn before the house.
He took off his coat and spread it on the ground among the bluebells, perhaps in the very same spot where they had lain among the daffodils during their honeymoon.
And they lay down among the blooms and made quick and lusty and thoroughly satisfying love.
They were both panting when they had finished, and they both smiled when he lifted his head to look down at her. "I suppose," he said, "I am going to have to pay for this. You are going to make me gather an armful of blue-bells for the house, are you not?" "Oh, more than an armful," she said. "/Both /arms must be laden and full and overflowing. There has to be a vase of bluebells for every room in the house." "Heaven help us," he said. "It is a mansion. The last time I tried counting the rooms, I found I could not count that high." She laughed. "We had better not waste any more time, then," she said.
He got to his feet, adjusted his clothing, and reached down a hand for hers. She clasped it and he drew her up and into his arms. They hugged each other for several wordless moments, but not for too long.
There were flowers to be gathered. The house was to overflow with them.
Their /lives /were to be brimful and overflowing, he suspected - and always would be.
What else could a man expect when he was married to Vanessa?
He grinned at her and set to work.