Читать книгу The Baby Gift - Day Leclaire - Страница 10

Six days before Christmas…

SHE came to him again, all silk and sweetness and heady feminine perfume. They were outside in the snow, playing in the drifts like children. He could hear his own laughter, deep and clear, ringing through the crisp mountain air. She’d done that for him, he realized in amazement. She’d returned to him the joy of laughter. It had been a long time since he’d taken pleasure in the sheer simplicity of such a fundamental act.

She peeked at him from behind the trunk of an ancient oak, its mighty limbs bearing the hint of newborn leaves through the dusting of winter’s last snow. She called to him. And finally, finally, he could hear her lilting voice. It joined them on some level, resonated straight through to the core of him, softening the hardness within and connecting with the most elemental part of his spirit. It was the voice of the mountains, rolling and proud and solid, and silvered with a generous helping of humor.

“Time’s a’wastin’, boy. Catch me if you can.”

“Who are you calling boy?” he demanded, charging after her.

Her bright laughter snagged at a place that had once held his heart, filling it, expanding it, inflaming it. The chase didn’t last long. He captured her in his arms and they tumbled into a bed of powder-soft snow. Her long, cornsilk hair spread around her in a halo of rosy-gold, framing Rhonda’s bold, handsome features and distinctive hazel eyes.

“Home is where your heart is, darlin’,” she whispered. “Where do you keep your heart?”

“You’ll always have it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“And you’ll always have mine.”

She lifted her mouth to his and he was helpless to resist. He wanted her. Needed her.

Took her.

Alessandro awoke with a start, the fragments of his dream clinging with relentless determination. He groaned. Rhonda again. It defied understanding—not just because he continued to dream about a woman he hadn’t loved in years, but also because the events in his dreams had never happened. It took a full minute to separate fantasy from reality and realize what had disturbed his sleep.