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  "Take me," she demanded. "Take me now!"

  "Or?" he asked playfully.

  "Or I'll make you think Paris Island was paradise."

  "Is that a threat, Gunny?"

  "It damn sure is, Staff Sergeant. And a direct order. Take me now!"

  He smiled. "I always follow orders, ma'am."

  And with that he crawled up between her legs and used his lips and tongue to drive her to the precipice of bliss and beyond, until her entire world spun and shimmered and exploded in a thousand colors and lights. Her ragged breaths seemed to propel him onward, milking her climax until she felt as if her entire womb must have wrung itself out on his dancing tongue.

  "Your turn, Marine," she said, and grabbed his hair, pulling his body upward until once again he plunged deep within her, then wrapping her legs tight around him, so tight he couldn't thrust, but could only accept the pulsing of her inner muscles. She clenched and released, again and again, her thighs still pinning him, until finally he cried out in frustration, an instant before she felt his own pulses explode through her.

  As they lay together, gasping, clinging, their skin silky slick with each breath, she reached up and bit his earlobe hard, then whispered, "You do follow orders, Marine."

  And somehow it seemed so unbearably right that they both started to laugh breathlessly.

  Chapter 7

  Laughing with almost carefree abandon, wrapped in blankets against the night chill, they went to the kitchen for a snack. Bethany had lots of snacks on hand, largely because she hated to cook for one. Soon, bags of chips, mounds of chocolate-covered peanuts and a couple of granola bars sat on the table next to a loaf of rye bread and cold cuts, along with other sandwich fixings.

  Joe dug in as if he were starved, building a sandwich of epic proportions. Bethany settled for a piece of chocolate.

  "You know," he said, "we've got a problem."

  Her heart nearly stopped. He was going to tell her this had been a big mistake, and she didn't know if she could bear to hear that now. Not now. Not when she felt as if she couldn't bear to let him go. "What's that?" she finally asked, feeling as if she had to squeeze the words out.

  "It's tough for two marines to be married. Different duty stations, long separations...."

  "What?" She couldn't believe what he'd just said. "What?" she repeated, sure she had imagined it.

  He looked up from his massive sandwich and smiled almost wryly at her. "Maybe I'm jumping the gun."

  "Which gun?" She seemed to be growing more confused by the minute.

  "The marriage gun."

  Marriage. She hadn't imagined it. He'd actually spoken the word. "Umm...you hardly know me."

  "True. But I know you enough to know what I feel." His sandwich appeared to lose his interest, and he shoved it aside. "Okay, this is fast. I was never a believer in love at first sight. Until now."

  "Love?" At some level she knew she was sounding like a stupid parrot, but she couldn't help it. A deep self-protective urge was refusing to accept that he could mean what he was saying.

  "I know it's fast," he said. "But what the hell. I've always leaped in where angels fear to tread. So how about this—I know I'm madly in love with you. But I'll wait six months or a year, until you can figure out if you feel the same. Assuming, of course, that we get to see each other during that six months or a year, which is the problem I'm talking about."

  Her heart was fluttering like a frightened bird as she stared at him, filling her eyes with him, filling her heart with him. But even as she wanted to leap along with him, she knew he was right.

  "It's a problem," she agreed.

  "Hell yeah." He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. She waited while he chewed and swallowed, almost afraid to start thinking of solutions when the moment seemed so tenuous. Reality said he'd go back to his unit, he'd forget about her and that would be that. Her heart wanted to draw a whole different picture.

  He put his sandwich back on its plate and pushed it aside again. "I'm not hungry. I'm too nervous. I'm having a fight-or-flight response right now, and everything is telling me to fight for you, Bethany. Fight as hard as I have to."

  "You, uh, don't have to fight," she admitted. "It's just that...we have a problem."

  "Yeah. A big one. I mean..." He looked at her, and surprise dawned on his face, as if he'd just understood her. "You love me, too?"

  Tension began to ease out of her, and she knew she was going to take another one of her leaps, but this time she was going to risk everything in order to get what she most wanted in the world. "I love you, Joe."

  He was up and around the table in an instant, kneeling by her chair and drawing her into his embrace until they were as tightly knit as one. "God, I love you," he said. "I love you. We can work all the other stuff out. We can learn each other and make it together if we just have that. If we're willing to try."

  She sighed, happiness beginning to run through her veins, and pressed her cheek to the top of his head. "I love you," she said again, and this time saying it filled her heart with joy. Profound joy.

  He moved, looking up at her, and she looked at him.

  "So, Mathison, we have a problem," he said. "How do you want to deal with it?"

  "The way other couples in our shoes deal with it. We deal with it. We live with it. And we apply for joint assignments until we get one."

  He nodded. "I'm willing. It won't be easy but... Bethany, what about kids?"

  Kids. Children. Babies. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to think about that that she'd begun to envision herself as childless for life. A shiver of pure pleasure ran through her. Only in that instant did she realize just how much she wanted children.

  "I'd like to have kids," she admitted.

  "Me, too. But we can't both be globe-trotting if we have children. Listen, I'll apply for a position as an instructor. Maybe I can get stateside and stay stateside."

  "I...could resign." Her heart fluttered again. What a choice to have to make.

  He shook his head. "No. Not unless you really want to. This is your career, too, Gunny. I'm not about to forget that."

  He tipped his head forward, resting it on her shoulder, and sighed. "I'm sick unto death of making war."

  "We don't have to decide about that immediately," she said, stroking his hair and kissing his temple. "There's no rush to start a family. We can see how things go, first. Maybe something will pan out. All I know, Joe, is I don't think I can live without you."

  He lifted his head and kissed her, then he started laughing exuberantly. "I love you, Bethany. I love you, love you, love you...."

  Sometimes the demons still haunted them, but they were married in December. Snow fell like magic dust as they exited the church arm in arm beneath a glistening arch of swords. Both of them had chosen to wear their dress blues for the occasion, a true marine marriage.

  The gods of war had chosen to smile on them, for a little while at least. Joe's unit had been pulled out of the Middle East, and after a month's leave, they would both begin their new assignments, at Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, D.C.

  Somehow they knew they would handle whatever came their way, because they believed in each other.

  And they had both found their dream marines.

  ISBN 0-373-48466-6

  THE HEART'S COMMAND

  Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  THE DREAM MARINE

  Copyright © 2002 by Susan Civil-Brown

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