Marc gave a growl of satisfaction at her answer and began to remove their entirely unnecessary clothing, covering her face in kisses that would last their lifetimes—and beyond.
EPILOGUE
MARC STOOD ON the terrace of the Villa Derenz, his infant son cradled in his arms. Out on the manicured lawn, under the shade of a huge parasol beside the pool, Tara dozed on a lounger.
His eyes went to her, soft with love-light. Here she had first beguiled him and entranced him, lighting a flame within him that his own fears had so nearly extinguished but which now burnt with everlasting fire.
He walked up to her, feeling the warmth of late summer lapping him. At his approach she roused herself and smiled, holding out her arms expectantly.
‘Afternoon tea is served, young Master Derenz!’ she said, and laughed, busying herself settling him to feed.
Marc dropped a lingering kiss on her forehead, then turned as two figures of military bearing emerged from the villa, coming towards him and Tara.
‘Feeding him up? Good, good...’ Major Mackenzie nodded approvingly at his grandson’s nursing.
‘Latched on properly?’ the other Major Mackenzie asked her daughter.
‘Mum, I’m not one of your subalterns,’ Tara remonstrated good-humouredly, with a laugh, patting the lounger for her mother to sit down beside her.
Her parents had welcomed the news of their daughter’s marriage with open delight, and her mother had organised the wedding at the little parish church near the cottage with military precision. Her father had even summoned a guard of honour for the bride and groom, formed by the men of his regiment.
And if a tear had moistened her mother’s eyes, only Tara had seen it, and only she had heard her mother say, with more emotion in her voice than her daughter was used to hearing, ‘He can’t take his eyes off you, that utterly gorgeous man of yours! And he is lucky—so lucky—to have you!’ Then she had hugged her daughter closely.
The arrival of their grandson had also persuaded her parents to return to Civvy Street, and they would soon buy a house on the Dorset coast, near enough to for them to keep an eye on the cottage. Tara was glad for them and glad for herself—she would be seeing more of them, and they were safe from future military deployment.
She was also glad that Marc’s son would have grandparents on her side to grow up with. But there would be happy memories in the making here, too, at the villa on Cap Pierre, just as Marc had from his own boyhood with his parents and their friends.
The Neubergers, with Hans’s new grandchild on the way, would soon be here to spend a fortnight, after her parents had returned to the UK. Hans had not been slow to express his gladness that Marc and she were so happy together.
She looked up lovingly at her husband and he met her gaze, his dark eyes softening, his heart catching.
How can I love her so much? How is it possible?
All he knew was that he did, and that theirs was a love that would never end. And to have found it made him the most fortunate man in the world.
There was the sound of a throat clearing and he glanced across at his father-in-law.
‘If it’s all right with you, old chap,’ said Major Mackenzie, ‘we’d like to take out that very neat little boat of yours! Wind’s rising, and we’re keen to try out the spinnaker.’
Marc smiled broadly. ‘An excellent idea,’ he said warmly, and Tara added her own encouragement.
Her mother rose briskly to her feet and she and Marc watched them stride across the lawn to the path leading to the jetty, where the boat was moored.
‘You could go out with them too, you know,’ she said to Marc.
He shook his head. ‘I was thinking, actually, of a quite different activity. When, that is, young Master Derenz requires his afternoon nap...’
Tara’s eyes glinted knowingly. ‘And what might that be, Monsieur Derenz?’ she enquired limpidly.
He gave a low laugh. ‘Well, Madame Derenz, I was thinking,’ he said, returning the glint in her eye with a deeper one of his own, ‘that perhaps it is time to consider the addition of a Mademoiselle Derenz to the family...’
She caught his hand and kissed it. ‘An excellent idea,’ she agreed. ‘Happy families...’ She sighed. ‘It just doesn’t get better.’
And Marc could not help but agree—with all his heart.
* * *
If you enjoyed Billionaire’s Mediterranean Proposal