One Golden Ring. Cheryl Bolen

of exhaustion.”

      She rather thought this lovemaking would be more pleasant if a man’s size was diminished! “Can a man not make love when he’s not so ‘expanded’?” she asked.

      “He cannot!” he said with a laugh. “He needs to be quite hard in order to . . . slide in properly.” He pushed her over on her back and settled his lips on hers for a heated kiss. “However, Mrs. Birmingham, just speaking about being rigid seems to have made me hard.”

      “Then we can do it again?”

      “And again and again and again if you continue to have such an effect on me,” he growled as he covered her body with his.

      Chapter 7

      The sudden burst of light awakened her the next morning. For several seconds she lay there, her eyes closed, suffused with a deep sense of well-being, despite the soreness in a place whose existence had been unknown to her before yesterday. Gradually, she came fully awake and recognized her surroundings: her husband’s bedchamber. With glowing pride, she watched Nick—fully dressed and freshly shaven—move along a bank of tall windows, drawing open the blue silk draperies that had cloaked the room in darkness.

      When he turned to face her, a crooked grin lifting one corner of his sensuous mouth, her heart leaped.

      “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Birmingham. I’ve brought you breakfast,” he said as he went to the table, collected the silver tea tray, and brought it to her.

      She sat up and pulled the sheets to cover her nakedness. “Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Birmingham.” She took the steaming cup of hot chocolate he offered. “You look so clean and well groomed, and I’m such a mess.”

      He leaned over to kiss her forehead, then sat on the bed beside her. “You’ve never looked lovelier. I take it you slept well.”

      “Like the dead. At least . . . after . . .”

      “After a night of wildly passionate lovemaking.” His voice was a satisfied growl.

      She wondered if all married people indulged in the activities she and Nick had last night. How did married people ever get any sleep?

      A flicker of embarrassment leaped over her. She and Nick had behaved so very brazenly throughout the night. There was not an inch of her body that his mouth had not touched. Only his deep satisfaction had erased her embarrassment. Her brothers had told her that men were possessed of a strong need for sexual gratification. Her complete compliance in that area had definitely pleased her husband.

      But the memory that Diane Foley had often assuaged Nick’s needs definitely displeased Fiona.

      “I have a Christmas gift for you,” he said, withdrawing a small, red leather and gilt book from his pocket and handing it to her. “I had no time to buy anything so I decided to give you something that is very special to me. It’s William Blake’s poems. You’ll find the pages much dog-eared. I only recently had the book rebound.”

      Her mouth dropped open. It was really extraordinary. Songs of Innocence was her favorite book. Tears gathered in her eyes.

      His brows lowered. “What’s the matter, love? Do you not like it?”

      “Oh, Nick, I adore it—so much so that I gave away my only copy to Randy as a parting gift when he left the country.” She clutched the book to her breast. “You could not have given me anything I would value more.” She carefully thumbed through the pages, then gazed up into his face. “I feel wretched I have no gift for you.”

      He burst out laughing. “You’ve given my everything this day. No Christmas could be more wonderful.” He lifted her left hand and kissed it. “By the way, the gold band is only temporary. I plan to have a more suitable wedding ring made for you. Do you like emeralds?”

      She scowled. “A gold band perfectly suits me. I infinitely prefer something that has been passed down in your family over something purchased.”