Foretold

She was a journeyman trapper and caretaker of Denver Beck's heart. Even Hell knew her name. Blackthorne's daughter would never settle for "okay" ever again. From now on, it's awesome or nothing.

He slid his hand onto Riley's bare abdomen. "I got to thinkin' that a few years down the line, when yer older, what if that was our baby and I could feel it right here under my hand. Feel the life we'd created." Riley's eyes moistened. "Girl or boy?" "Doesn't matter. If it's a girl, we can name her after my gran. Her name was Emily Rose." "Hmm...I like that. Maybe the boy could be Paul Arthur, like my dad." "Yeah, that works. But that's all the way down the line, isn't it?" It might never come to pass.

Can you dance?" she asked before she could stop herself. "I can," he said, affronted. "I'm really good with the slow songs.

I love you Denver Beck," she whispered. "I have for a long time." Then she stepped back. "Now it's your turn to decide if you love me.

Will you wear my ring so all the world knows yer mine?" Beck wasn't asking for her hand in marriage, but it was so close he might as well be. Riley was deeply touched and she struggled to find the right words. "Yes," she began. "I'd be proud to.

She knew what he had in mind. He'll propose in Scotland on my birthday. There was no doubt as to what her answer would be.

When he turned back toward her, he kissed her deeply. "Don't ever doubt that I love you," he said, cupping her chin in his strong hands. "That will never change." Beck's taught body covered hers, alive and vital, charged with desire. And then they became one.

Beck behaved himself, though it was really difficult, especially during the slow dances when they were so tantalizingly close. He savoured the feel of her against his body, the light scent of her perfume, the in her eyes that told him he was the center of her universe. It was a new and totally overwhelming experience.