THE M.D. SHE HAD TO MARRY Page 8

  "Soon," Lacey said again, in an effort to convince herself that she meant it.

  "Yes," Jenna replied softly. "We'll have to get together soon…"

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  When Tess drove her back to the cabin, Lacey made her cousin's wife let her off in the dusty turnaround out front. "I can walk to the door myself. I'm not an invalid."

  Tess shook her head. "You're a wonder, that's what you are. A few hours out of childbed and you're strolling around the yard."

  Lacey climbed down from the pickup slowly. "It's only ten yards to the door—and I don't think 'stroll' is exactly the word for it."

  "You won't be mad if I just wait here until you get inside?"

  "I guess I'll allow that." She was feeling a little tired. And the cramping in her uterus had increased a bit. She wanted to lie down and sleep for about a week.

  "Edna and I will be back around five, with the groceries. And tell Logan not to cook. We'll bring something over."

  "I'll tell him. And thanks. For everything."

  "Any time."

  Lacey hobbled toward the door. It opened before she got there and Logan came out.

  Tess waved and drove off.

  "You look beat," Logan said, as he took her arm.

  "I'm a little tired. I admit." She leaned on him heavily, grateful for his solid strength, as he led her inside.

  Miracle of miracles, Rosie was asleep. She lay on her side in her bassinet, making little sucking motions with her tiny pink mouth.

  "I'm just going to go out to the bathroom for a minute," Lacey whispered. "And then I'll lie down."

  Dark eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong?"

  "I think I'm bleeding a little more than before."

  She felt certain that he would reprimand her then, that he'd say she'd been foolish to insist on a visit to the main house just to call Jenna.

  But he surprised her. He put his hand on her shoulder, a touch clearly meant to comfort. It had the intended effect. She did feel reassured. She put her hand over his and gave it a squeeze.

  "Sometimes the bleeding can be pretty heavy," he said, "especially in the first few days. It's probably nothing to worry about. You can change your pad and put your nightgown back on and come lie down. You'll feel better after you've rested a while."

  * * *

  Logan was right. She did feel better after she'd rested. He brought her the baby about an hour later and he helped her to sit up against the pillows to nurse.

  He didn't ask her what she and her sister had said to each other. He didn't mention the call to Jenna at all. Which was all right with her. Lacey didn't really want to discuss the call with him, anyway.

  She was quiet as the day wore on.

  She had a lot to think about. With Rosie in her arms and Logan by her side, she found herself beginning to see her life in a whole new light.

  Perhaps, to an extent, she had been irresponsible—living day-to-day, taking things as they came. But now so much had changed.

  Through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, her sister's words stayed with her. She wondered, could they be true? Was she, Lacey, the one Logan really loved?

  In any case, she certainly did admire Jenna's definition of the word—of it being what people did that mattered, not what they said, or even whatever secrets they kept hidden in their hearts.

  And Jenna and Tess both thought she should say yes to Logan. Could two such wise and wonderful women be wrong?

  * * *

  That evening, Tess and Edna returned, but only long enough to carry in the groceries and put the dinner on the table. Once they were gone, Logan called to Lacey through the curtain, asking if she'd like him to serve her meal in bed.

  "No way," she called back. "I'll eat at the table. This bed rest is getting to me."

  "You're sure?"

  "Positive. I'll be right out." She wrapped herself in her robe and joined him in the main room.

  He was standing at the counter. "Look what I found." He held up two saucers. A plain votive candle was perched on each one. He carried the saucers to the table, set them in the center and produced a wooden match, which he struck with a flourish on the underside of the tabletop.

  The sulfur tip hissed as the flame caught. "Dinner by candlelight," he announced as he lit one wick and then the other. He shook out the match. "There."

  It was a whimsical gesture, something she never would have expected of him. He was a generous man and he knew what women liked. He used to send flowers to Jenna all the time. And during those five glorious days last September, he had taken Lacey out to dinner twice, each time to a fine restaurant, where there were always candles on the snowy linen table-cloth—not to mention champagne chilling in a silver bucket nearby.

  But he'd never done a tender thing like this for her—to create a little impromptu romance at a rough pine table with a couple of squat white votives scrounged from a drawer.

  It touched her. It touched her deeply.

  He pulled out her chair for her and then, when they were seated with the candles glowing between them, he raised his big glass of milk to her in a toast.

  "To the mother of my daughter," he said. "A woman with an independent mind and … unquenchable determination."

  She laughed. "Independence and determination. I like it."

  "I knew that you would."

  She raised her glass and they drank at the same time.

  Then she thought of a toast of her own. "To the father of my little girl. A man of … unflagging loyalty and truly staggering persistence."

  "Loyalty and persistence." He saluted her by dipping his head. "Admirable qualities. Thank you."

  She nodded. "You're welcome." They drank again.

  When they set down their glasses, Lacey said softly, "Why do I know what's coming?"

  He smiled rather ruefully. "You have to admit, I've shown admirable restraint for—what—at least forty-eight hours now?"

  "Yes, Logan. You have."

  "But my goal hasn't changed. And it does seem to me that maybe you've been rethinking my offer."

  "You could be right."

  "Could be?"

  "You'll have to ask to find out."

  He studied her face for a moment, then asked gravely, "Would I increase my chances for success if I went down on my knees?"

  "Hmm…" She pretended to consider the question, but she didn't pretend for long. "I love to see a man down on his knees."

  His expression remained solemn, though humor gleamed in his eyes. "I don't believe I'll comment on that remark."

  "A wise decision. One you will not regret."

  He set down his napkin and pushed back his chair. In two steps, he was standing beside her. He wore jeans and a dark knit shirt with a banded collar. She thought he had never looked more handsome. But then, every time she looked at him, she found herself thinking that he had never looked more handsome.

  He dropped to one knee. "May I have your hand, please?"

  She gave it. He bent his dark head. She felt the warm, quick brush of his lips against her knuckles.

  Then he was staring up at her again, his eyes so dark, shining with—maybe not love—but something almost as good.

  "Ms. Bravo."

  She dipped her head and matched his teasingly formal tone, "Dr. Severance."

  "Ms. Bravo, much has transpired between us in recent hours. So much, in fact, that my humble hopes have been raised once again."

  She arched a brow at him. "Humble? Your hopes are humble?"

  He gave her a quick, playful scowl—then resumed looking ardent once more. "I would like your hand in marriage, Ms. Bravo."

  "No. Really?"

  "Yes. Really."

  She sucked in a big breath and let it out in a rush. "This is such a surprise."

  He kissed her hand again. A lovely shiver traveled up her arm. "I can provide for you."

  "Ah." She sighed some more, a couple of big, gusty ones. "You're a
man with … prospects?"

  "Better than that."

  "Better?" She fluttered her eyelashes madly. "Do elaborate."

  He made a big show of clearing his throat. "Well. All right. If you insist."

  "I do. Most definitely. Don't be shy. Enumerate your assets."

  "First let me say that my assets are … at your disposal."

  "Oh, this is sounding better by the minute. Don't stop now. Go on, go on."

  "Well, I own a house. And I've made wise investments."

  "What about all that lovely money your father left you?"

  "Yes. There's that, too."

  "Hmm. This is good. Continue."

  "I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I told you that I hold a position of respect in my community."

  "Your community." She frowned. "That would be … Meadow Valley, California?"

  "Yes. Meadow Valley. In California."

  She allowed herself a slow, very significant grin. "I have something of a reputation myself, in Meadow Valley."

  His fine mouth twitched, though he kept a straight face. "Yes, I've heard. But I'm willing to overlook that."

  "Such a generous fellow you are, Dr. Severance."

  "So I've been told … and where was I?"

  "You hold a position of respect…"

  "Ah, yes. In Meadow Valley. Also gainful employment."

  "Always a plus."

  "And then there's the fact that you've just had my baby. I don't think we should forget that."

  She placed her hand, very delicately, over her stomach. "I promise you. I haven't forgotten."

  "And then there are … those tender feelings I bear you."

  Now that did sound good. "Tender feelings? I find you are persuading me, Dr. Severance. You are quite wonderfully convincing."

  He rose then, in one quick, easy movement. He looked down into her eyes and she watched his expression change, from one of playful devotion to something darker and hungrier.

  He said her name. "Lace…"

  A shudder ran through her.

  "…come up here."

  He tugged on her hand, pulling her out of her chair and into his strong arms. She groaned—because it hurt to stand up straight. And also because it felt so absolutely grand to be in his arms again at last.

  "Marry me, damn it."

  "Oh, Logan…"

  He lowered his mouth. It touched hers. He said it again, breathing the words into her mouth. "Marry me."

  And then he kissed her.

  There was no one—no one—who kissed the way Logan kissed.

  She had missed his kisses terribly. Sometimes, in the night, alone, during the months apart from him, she would wake and touch her mouth and remember…

  She had thought, for all those long, long months, that she would never feel his kisses again.

  But here she was. Feeling them. Taking them into herself, kissing him back.

  Her lips felt deliciously bruised when he finally pulled away. She reached up, put her fingers against them.

  He commanded for a third time, in a low, very controlled tone, "Marry me."

  She opened her mouth to answer.

  And from her bassinet in the corner, Rosie started crying.

  Lacey moved instinctively toward the sound.

  Logan gripped her arms, holding her with him. "Wait," he whispered, "maybe she'll just go back to sleep."

  "No. I know that sound. She's hungry."

  Heat still burned in his eyes, but one corner of his mouth kicked up in a wry half-smile. "You know that sound? Already?"

  "'Fraid so."

  "Just wait a minute, though. Just in case?"

  "All right."

  They waited, staring at each other like a pair of smitten lovers which, Lacey admitted to herself right then, was what they were.

  Rosie went on wailing.

  Finally, Logan shrugged. "All right." He let her go and she turned for the bassinet.

  She waited until she was seated in the rocker with the baby at her breast before she looked up at Logan standing above her and softly whispered, "Yes."

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  The next day, when Tess brought Jobeth and Starr over to see the baby, Lacey and Logan delivered their news.

  "Oh, this is wonderful." Tess grabbed Lacey in a hug. "When will the ceremony be?"

  "Right away," said Logan. "We'll get the blood tests tomorrow. And as soon as I can coax the results out of whoever runs the local lab, we'll pay a visit to the county courthouse—Wednesday or Thursday, that would be my guess."

  But the women had other ideas. Surely Logan could wait a few days at least, until Lacey was recovered enough to enjoy her own wedding? And there really should be some sort of party, something small and simple, understandably, on such short notice. Something with only the family, but a real ceremony nonetheless…

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Logan drove into Buffalo and came back with a safety seat for Rosie. It took him half an hour to do it, but he finally got the thing properly strapped into the back of Lacey's SUV. Then he loaded mother and daughter into the vehicle and they went to the clinic in Medicine Creek, where Lacey and Logan had their blood tests and Dr. Pruitt produced Rosie's birth certificate, all ready for her parents to sign.

  They got back to the cabin two hours after they'd left it. Lacey and the baby took a nap and Logan went to the main house, where he called his office and promised Dan Connery, one of his two overworked partners, that he'd be back in Meadow Valley the following week.

  "The problem—whatever it is—is solved, then?" Dan asked, sounding more than a little put out about the whole thing.

  Logan took full blame for his partner's frustration. He'd been far from forthcoming about why he'd suddenly found it imperative to fly off to Wyoming for an indefinite stay. He needed to sit down with Dan and Helen Sanderson, the third partner in the practice, and explain what had happened.

  He wasn't looking forward to the task. He found the whole situation more than a little embarrassing.

  After all, he was a doctor. A respected member of his community. A man others rightfully expected to uphold certain standards.

  The way Logan saw it, a doctor should never have the bad judgment to become a father before he'd managed to marry the mother of his child. Certain … restraint was expected of a physician. And if a physician couldn't exercise restraint, well, he ought at least to know better than to slip up when it came to the use of contraception.

  But Logan had slipped up. And Dan and Helen had a right to an explanation. There would no doubt be gossip anyway, when Logan returned to town with a new wife and a baby.

  And then there was the fact that his bride just happened to be his ex-fiancée's younger sister—a younger sister who had once been well-known in Meadow Valley for her exploits as a troubled teen.

  Yes, there would be talk. And his partners not only deserved to hear the truth from him, they had a right to hear it from him first.

  He would see that they did. As soon as he returned.

  "I'm … working things out, Dan," Logan said. "I'll explain everything, in detail, as soon as I get back."

  "All right. Next Monday, then?"

  Monday wouldn't work, and Logan knew it. He and Lacey were getting married on Saturday. There would be a party, which would mean some degree of stress for her. Better to give her Sunday to rest.

  And then she had that new SUV of hers. He doubted she'd be willing to leave it in Wyoming. And really, with Rosie so young, it was probably wiser not to try flying anyway. So they'd be driving. That would take two days at least—no, again, he had to consider Rosie. Traveling with a baby could be very slow going. Better give it three.

  "Let's say Thursday, to be on the safe side. I'll be driving back and should get in by Wednesday evening."

  Dan agreed that Thursday would be all right, though he sounded far from thrilled about it. "Please don't make it any longer than that, Logan."

&n
bsp; Sending a quick prayer heavenward that nothing would occur to make him into a liar, Logan promised he'd be there by a week from Thursday.

  The next morning, Lacey drove to the main house—by herself this time—to call Jenna and tell her about the wedding.

  Jenna was thoroughly pleased at the news. "I'm so glad, Lace. I really do think it's the best thing."

  "Well, I hope so. Because I'm doing it."

  "And what then? That big, beautiful house of Logan's in Meadow Valley?"

  Lacey gulped. "Yep. Can you believe it? Wasn't I the one who swore I'd never move back to my hometown?"

  "Never say never," Jenna teased.

  "Ain't that the truth."

  "And Meadow Valley is a beautiful place to live."

  "Well, you always liked it there."

  "It's kind of ironic." Jenna's voice held a wistful note. "All I ever wanted was to spend my life there. And all you ever wanted was to get out. And look at us now."

  "No, Jen," Lacey said, "you wanted Mack more than you wanted to live in Meadow Valley. And me? Well, look who I ended up wanting."

  Jenna laughed. "Mr. Meadow Valley himself. What did I tell you?"

  Lacey was nodding. "Pure irony."

  "You'll be all right," Jenna said. "You'll have the man you love and your baby. And there are four bedrooms in that house of Logan's—five if you include the upstairs family room. I'm sure one of them is going to make a great studio. You'll be totally absorbed in some new painting project again before you know it."

  "Right," Lacey said. At that point, the idea of starting a new painting seemed far off in the distant future somewhere.

  Which was nothing to worry about. After all, it had only been a few days since she'd had her baby. Right now, all she could think of was her child and her new life with Logan.

  "Lace," Jenna said, "be happy. Take care of yourself."

  Lacey promised that she would.

  "Call me if you need me. Any time. For anything."

  "I will. I promise."

  After she hung up, Lacey realized that neither of them had brought up the idea of Jenna and Mack flying west for the wedding, though Mack was a multimillionaire who set his own schedule and Jenna's job right then consisted of renovating the old mansion they owned in Key West. They could have easily managed the trip.