Love 'N' Marriage (14 page)

Almost immediately he noticed the tears brimming in her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, oh no, you couldn’t.”

He brought her down so that they were sitting side by side. His arms came around her, and he fused his mouth to hers. Again and again he kissed her, tasting, nipping at her lower lip until Stephanie thought she would go mad with wanting him. Her hand crept up his hard chest and closed around the folds of his collar. The kiss was long and thorough. This day with Jonas was the sweetest she had ever known.

With his arms wrapped securely around her shoulders, Stephanie swayed with the gentle rocking of the boat, lulled by the peace that surrounded them. Jonas had somehow lowered the sails without her even knowing it. He continued to hold her, staring out over the rolling water. Not for the first time, Stephanie noted that his eyes were incredibly blue. As though sensing her scrutiny, Jonas gazed down at her. For a long moment they stared at each other, lost in the world that had been created just for them and for this moment.

Some time later, Jonas reached for the picnic basket. He brought out a plump red strawberry, plucked the stem from the top of the red fruit, and fed it to Stephanie. She bit into the pulp, and a thin line of juice ran down her chin. As she moved to wipe it away, Jonas’s hand stopped hers. He bent his index finger, and with his knuckle rubbed the red juice aside. Then, very slowly, as though he couldn’t resist, he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met and clung. His grip tightened as his tongue sought and found hers. When he lifted his mouth from hers, he smiled gently. The moisture pooled in her eyes, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

A puzzled frown knit Jonas’s brow. “You’re crying.”

“I know.”

“I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

She turned her head into his shoulder, convinced he would laugh once he knew.

“Stephanie?”

“It was so beautiful. I always cry when I’m this happy.” Feeling foolish, she rubbed her hands against her eyes. “It’s a family curse. My mother weeps every Christmas.”

Jonas reached for the wine, opened it, and poured them each a glass.

“Alcohol won’t help,” she said, sniffling, but she didn’t refuse the glass Jonas offered her.

“Are there any other family curses I should know about?”

“I have a bit of a temper.”

Jonas chuckled. “I’ve encountered that.”

Laughing lightly, Stephanie straightened and took her first sip of wine. It felt cool and tasted sweet, reminding her that she was hungry. “Some bread?” she asked, looking at him.

Jonas leaned forward to reach for it, and as he did, a look of pain shot across his face, widening his eyes. He sat back quickly.

“Jonas?” Concerned, Stephanie turned to him. “What is it?”

“It’ll pass in a moment.”

“What will pass?”

“The pain,” he gritted, stroking the length of his thigh in an effort to ease the agony. He closed his eyes and turned away from her.

Stephanie bent in front of him, nearly frantic. “Tell me what I can do.’’

“Nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go away.”

“No,” she shouted. “I won’t leave you alone.” Because she didn’t know what else to do, her hand joined his, kneading the knotted flesh that had cramped so viciously. She could feel the muscles relax when the spasm passed.

“What happened? Did I do something?”

“No.” He moved away from her, reaching for the ropes, preparing to raise the sails.

“Talk to me, for heaven’s sake,” she cried, grabbing his forearm. “Don’t close up on me now. I care about you, Jonas, I want to help!”

His hard gaze softened, and he tenderly cupped her cheek. Relieved, Stephanie turned her face into his palm and kissed him there.

“Did I frighten you?” he asked her softly. “Only because I didn’t know what to do to help you.”  She sighed,  feeling weak and emotionally drained. “Does that happen often?” The thought of him enduring such pain was intolerable.

“It happens often enough to make me appreciate my cane.’’

In spite of the circumstances, Stephanie bowed her head to hide a smile.

“You find that amusing?”

Her head shot up. “No, of course not. It’s just that everyone in the office claims they know when your leg is hurting, because you’re usually in a foul mood.”

“They say that, do they?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

Jonas shrugged. “To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Stephanie reached inside the picnic basket for the two loaves of bread. She set them out along with a plate of cheese, avoiding looking at Jonas as she asked him the question that had been on her mind since Paris. “How’d it happen?”

“My leg?” His gaze sharpened. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.” He hesitated, and when he finally spoke, Stephanie realized that relating the story to her was an indication that he trusted her. “It happened several years ago in a skiing accident. I was on the slopes with a... friend. There isn’t much to say. She got in trouble, and when I went to help her, I fell.”

“Down the slope?”

“No, off a cliff.”

“Oh, Jonas.” She felt sick at the thought of him being hurt. She closed her eyes to the mental image of him lying in some snowbank in agony, waiting for help to arrive.

“The doctors say I’m lucky to have this leg. In the beginning, I wished they had amputated it and been done with it. Now I’m more tolerant of the pain; I’ve learned to live with it.” He grew silent, and Stephanie sensed that there was a great deal more to the story that he hadn’t revealed, but she accepted what he had told her and didn’t press him further.

“Thank you, Jonas,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For bringing me with you today. For relating what must be a difficult story for you to tell. For trusting me.”

“No, Stephanie,” he whispered, lifting her mouth to his. “Thank you.”

When Jonas pulled up to the large two-story brick home overlooking Lake Superior, Stephanie’s breath caught at the sight of his magnificent family home. “Oh, Jonas,” she said, awed. “It’s beautiful.” Imposing as well, she thought, attempting to subdue her nervousness. Her hand went to her hair, and she ran her fingers through the tangled mass.

“You look fine,” Jonas told her.

She lowered her arm and rested her clenched hand in her lap. “Just you wait,” she threatened. “I’m going to introduce you to my father, and he’ll be in mud-spattered coveralls, sitting on top of a tractor. You’ll be in a five-hundred-dollar pin-striped suit, and you’ll know what it feels like to be out of your element.”

To her amazement, Jonas laughed. He parked the car at the front of the house, or perhaps the back-Stephanie couldn’t tell which—and turned off the engine. “I’ll look forward to meeting your family.”

“You will?”

He climbed out of the car and came around to her side, opening her door for her. “One thing, though.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t introduce me to your mother at Christmas. I have a heck of a time dealing with crying women.”

Stephanie got the giggles. They were probably a result of her nervousness, but once she started it was nearly impossible to stop. Jonas laughed with her, and with his arm linked around her waist, he led her through the wide double doors of the house.

The minute they were inside, Stephanie’s amusement vanished. The floor of the entryway had probably cost more than her family’s farm in Colville. Marble, Stephanie guessed, and probably imported from Italy. Maybe Greece. A large winding stairway angled off to the right; its polished mahogany balustrade gleamed in the sun.

“Jonas, is that you?” An elegantly dressed woman appeared. She was tall and regal-looking, with twinkling blue eyes that were the mirror image of Jonas’s. Her hair was completely gray, and she wore it in a neatly coiled French roll. She held her hands out to her son. Jonas claimed them with his own and kissed her on the cheek.

“Mother.”

They parted, and Jonas’s mother paused to greet Stephanie. If she disapproved of Stephanie’s attire, it wasn’t revealed in the warmth of her smile. “You must be Stephanie.”

For one crazy second, Stephanie had the urge to curtsy. “Hello, Mrs. Lockwood.” Even her voice sounded awed and a bit unnatural.

“Please call me Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“I can see you’ve had a full day on the lake.” Elizabeth glanced at her son.

“It was marvelous,” Stephanie confirmed.

“I hope you’re hungry. Clara’s been cooking all day, anticipating your arrival.”

Jonas placed his hand along the back of Stephanie’s neck and directed her into the largest room she had ever seen.

“Who’s Clara?” she asked under her breath.

“The cook,” he whispered. When his mother turned her back, he kissed Stephanie’s cheek.

“Jonas,” she hissed. “Don’t do that!”

“Did you say something, Stephanie?” Elizabeth turned around questioningly.

“Actually... no,” she stuttered, glowering hotly at Jonas who coughed to disguise a laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Would either of you care for a glass of wine before dinner?” Elizabeth asked, taking a seat on an elegant velvet sofa.

Stephanie claimed the matching chair across from her, and Jonas stood behind Stephanie.

“That would be fine, Mother,” Jonas said, answering for them both. “Would you like me to serve as bartender?”

“Please.” Elizabeth folded her hands on her lap. “Jonas has spoken highly of you, Stephanie.”

“He... has?” she sputtered.

“Yes, is there something unusual about that?”

Jonas delivered a glass of wine to his mother before bringing Stephanie hers. He sat beside her on the arm of the chair and looped his arm around her shoulder.

“Clara will never forgive you if you don’t say hello, Son,” Elizabeth informed him. “While you do that, I’ll show Stephanie my garden. It’s lovely this time of year.”

“I’d like that,” Stephanie said, standing. She continued to hold her wine, although she had no intention of drinking it. All she needed was to get tipsy in front of Jonas’s mother.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Jonas whispered as he left the room.

A small, awkward silence followed. Stephanie looked down at her soiled jeans and cringed inwardly. “I feel I should apologize for my attire,” Stephanie began, following Jonas’s mother out through the French doors that led to a lush green garden. Roses were in bloom, and their sweet fragrance filled the air.

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth countered. “You’d been sailing. I didn’t expect you to arrive in diamonds and mink.”

“But I don’t imagine you expected jeans and purple tennis shoes either.”

Elizabeth laughed; the sound was light and musical. “I believe I’m going to grow fond of you.”

“I hope so.” Stephanie studied her wine.

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but are you in love with my son?”

Stephanie raised her eyes to Jonas’s mother’s and nodded. “Yes.”

Elizabeth placed her hand over her heart and sighed expressively. “I am so relieved to hear you say that.”

“You are?”

“He loves you, child.”

Stephanie opened her mouth to argue, but Elizabeth stopped her.

“I don’t know if he’s admitted it to himself yet, but he will soon. A few minutes ago, when you came into the house, I heard Jonas laugh. It’s been years since I’ve heard the sound of my son’s laughter. Thank you for that.”

“Really, I didn’t do anything... I—”

“Please forgive me for interrupting, but we haven’t much time.”

Stephanie’s heart shot to her throat. “Yes?”

“You must be patient with my son. He’s been hurt terribly, and he is greatly in need of a woman’s love. He probably hasn’t told you about Gretchen; he loved her deeply, far more than the wretched soul deserved. She left him after the accident; she told him she couldn’t live with a cripple, even though it was she who had caused it with her carelessness.”

Jonas’s mother didn’t need to say a word more for Stephanie to hate the fickle, faceless woman.

“That was nearly ten years ago, and Jonas hasn’t brought another woman to meet me until today. Knowing my son the way I do, I’m sure he’ll battle what he feels for you; he’s reluctant to trust again. So you must be patient and, my dear,” she added, gently touching Stephanie’s hand, “be very strong. He deserves your love, and although he may be stubborn now and again, believe me, the woman my son loves will be the happiest woman alive. When Jonas loves again, I promise you it will be with all his heart and his soul.”

Stephanie felt fresh tears gather in her eyes. “I don’t know if I deserve someone as good as Jonas.”

“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth Lockwood said, her soft voice cutting any harshness from her words. “But he deserves you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s coming now, so smile, and please don’t say anything about our conversation.”

“I won’t,” Stephanie promised, blinking back tears.

“There you are,” Jonas said as he joined his mother and Stephanie. “Did mother let you in on any family secrets?”

“Several, as a matter of fact,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh.

“Clara wants me to tell you that dinner is ready any time you are.’’

“Great,” Elizabeth replied with a warm smile.

“She cooked my favorite dessert,” Jonas said, sharing a secret smile with Stephanie. “Strawberry shortcake.’’

Stephanie could feel the heated color seep up her neck, invading her cheeks.

“I don’t recall you being particularly fond of strawberries,” Elizabeth commented as she led the way into the dining room.

“I am now, Mother,” Jonas said, reaching for Stephanie’s hand and linking her fingers with his. He raised her knuckles to his mouth and lightly kissed them.

The meal was one Stephanie would long remember, but not because the food could have been served in a four-star restaurant. Jonas was a different person, chatting, joking, teasing. He insisted that Clara join them for coffee so that Stephanie could meet the family cook. Although Stephanie liked the rotund woman instantly, she could feel the older woman’s censure. But by the end of the evening, all that had changed and Stephanie knew she could count Clara as a friend. When it came time to leave, Elizabeth hugged Stephanie and whispered softly in her ear. “Thank you, my dear, for giving me back my son. Remember what I said. Be patient.”