He kept his eyelids lowered, his long black lashes shadowing his cheekbones.
“Alistair Connor. Look at me,” she perched sideways on his thigh when he raised his head again. “You can trust me with your feelings.”
He sighed deeply and his lips curled in a self-deprecating grimace. “Jittery bridal nerves.”
Oh. Cute. She smiled, endeared. “Really?”
“Aye,” he nodded. “Don’t ask me to sleep away from you. No’ tonight. I need you.”
She gazed at his eyes, which could communicate so many emotions when he let them, and agreed, “It will be as you wish, Alistair Connor.”
“Sophia. Forever will be not enough to show you how much I love you,” he whispered before kissing her with fervent passion. He realized that his stomach was tied in knots.
She shifted, looking for a more comfortable position and he made her straddle him without breaking the kiss.
“I knew you were her Prince Charming!”
Gabriela’s voice reached them through a thick fog of lust and they sprang apart.
Alistair’s hands on her waist stopped her from falling on her butt and he guided her onto the bench beside him.
Sophia looked at him, asking for help. However, he seemed on the verge of laughing.
Gabriela threw herself on her mother’s legs. “It’s sooo romantic, Mama.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Kids are too advanced for their ages nowadays. Alistair thinned his lips to impede his bubbling amazement.
Oh, God! Struggling with her own laughter, Sophia picked Gabriela up in her arms, setting her on her lap. “Do you think so, Angel?”
“Oh, yes, I do.” The little girl united her hands and entwined her fingers, her blue eyes looking dreamingly at her mother. “Soooo romantic.” Gabriela beamed at Alistair. “Just like in Beauty and the Beast.”
Oh, no. Not that Beast again. Alistair crossed his arms over his chest and growled at the child, “I am. Not. The beast.”
“Yes,” she bobbed her head, the blonde pigtails bouncing around her face, “you are.” She started counting on her little fingers. “You are big. You are handsome. You have long hair. You know how to dance. You have a beautiful and old castle.” Gabriela looked at him from under her lashes, twinkles in her eyes “You shout sometimes, but I’m not afraid of you because I know you are gentle too.”
I don’t shout. “When have you heard me shouting?”
“Oh! When Mama was playing ball with us,” Gabriela affirmed.
Sophia giggled.
“Ah!” was the only thing he could answer. How can this little girl render me speechless so easily?
“Kiss again?”
“Ah-ah,” Sophia shook her head. “Let’s save the kiss for the wedding tomorrow, shall we?”
“Oh! Yes, the wedding.” Gabriela cocked her head to the side and looked from one to another, biting her lip. She furrowed her delicate blonde eyebrows in thought. Clearly, there was something that she wanted to say.
Alistair searched Sophia’s eyes for a clue but she lifted a shoulder, indicating she didn’t know what it was.
“So, Fairy, are you excited about tomorrow?”
Gabriela held out her arms to him and he picked her up from Sophia’s lap.
“I am,” she said as she made a ponytail with the long ends of his hair. “Does it mean that…” She flicked her eyes in Sophia’s direction. “Does it mean that tomorrow I can call you Daddy?”
What? Stillness came over Sophia. She could feel Alistair’s intense gaze on her.
Sophia wished to say no.
Sophia wished to say yes.
She looked at the two people she loved most in the world and didn’t know what she wished anymore.
“Mamãe?” Gabriela was eyeing her with a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
Oh, Gabriel. Help me. She closed her eyes for a moment and she could clearly see Gabriel’s impossibly happy smile the first day Gabriela had said ‘Pa-pa’.
“Gabriela,” Alistair put his warm hand over Sophia’s and squeezed reassuringly, “we can talk about this—”
“No.” Sophia drawing a steadying breath and opened her eyes. “No. Let’s talk about this now.” Be gentle, Sophia. She is a child, not an adult.
Oh, Christ. Please, say yes, Sophia. Without a word, Alistair put his arm over her shoulders and brought her closer to him.
Sophia prayed that the trembling she was feeling inside didn’t show. “My angel.” She is not asking to replace Gabriel. She just wants a living father who she can give her love. Sophia cleared her throat and started again. “My love, your father loved you very much. You were precious to him. His life, his heart. And I’m—” She stopped because the tears were threatening to fall and she didn’t want to cry in front of Gabriela. Sophia, remember: To love is to put your loved one’s happiness above everything else.
Gabriela’s eyes rounded and she nodded. Beneath Alistair’s hair, she crossed her fingers and waited for Sophia to finish answering her question, not knowing if the answer would be yes or no.
I see. Alistair’s heart broke in two. There will never be a child calling me Daddy. “What your mother wants to say, Gabriela, is that Gabriel was your father and—”
Sophia put her finger on Alistair’s lips. Love cannot be imprisoned, Sophia. Almost choking on her restrained tears, she whispered huskily, “Angel, your father and I, we’ll be very happy if you call Alistair Connor, Daddy.” By letting you love him openly, Gabriela, I’m keeping your love for Gabriel alive.
With a piercing happy scream, Gabriela hugged Alistair’s neck and then flung herself onto her mother’s lap, embracing her. “Obrigada, Mamãe. Thank you!”
Gabriela’s joy was so great that she couldn’t contain it. She jumped down from Sophia’s lap and ran away to meet Ariadne, screaming the news out loud.
Alistair’s arm over Sophia’s shoulder tightened and he rested his forehead on hers. “Thank—” His throat locked and he closed his eyes as the inevitable tears flooded them. Oh, Christ!
Sophia felt the tremor that went through Alistair’s big body and she knew that he was as moved as her.
You can’t see how much you deserved to be loved, can you? She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Alistair Connor, you don’t have to thank me. What I did…it was so simple.”
Simple? He drew a deep breath and cleared his throat, struggling to steady his raging emotions. He raised his head and opened his eyes to look at her, rasping, “Simple?”
Her thumbs dried the tears that rimmed his eyes and wetted his long lashes.
“You know, Alistair Connor…” She smiled at him softly. “My first thought was to say no, that the honor of being called Daddy belonged to Gabriel. Then, my heart said much louder that I would be denying you—and my daughter—so much happiness. I’d be tying up all this happiness and love in empty cages. So really, it was simple: all I did was say yes to a freely given love that could not be kept selfishly imprisoned.”
As he watched her, a strange feeling unfurled. It was a sense of privilege and mute wonder, as though he’d witnessed one of those miracles of nature. Alistair had to close his eyes. It was such a bright light that it could only be felt.
Love is not about oneself, but about the other.
It’s not about receiving, but about giving. It is not about keeping, but about freeing.
Love is not love if not shared.
When he spoke, there was reverence in his voice. “Sometimes, Sophia, when I look at you…when I hear your words…I feel like I’ve discovered a shining sun, so dazzling that it can’t be true, but then I know it’s real because incessantly it warms and lights my soul with gentleness and love, and I wonder,” he opened his eyes and framed her face in his hands, “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve you.”
Simpler answer. You are you. Melting under the most soft and loving kiss Alistair had ever given her, Sophia vowed she would convince him that he was deserving.
As they followed the kids back to the hous
e, Alistair noticed that Alexander and two of his friends had joined the group around Sophia’s twin sisters. “Seems they have gathered a court of fans.”
She turned her head to see the scene. “It’s always like that. They are young, beautiful, carefree. They have something magical.” Something I lost along the way.
When she looked back at his face, he was eyeing her intently.
You have no idea, do you? He shook his head.
He wished she knew her own beauty. Not the outer one. That she could see, even though a little distorted. He wished she could know how beautiful she was inside.
He wanted to scream to the world what a special gift she had given him and Gabriela just a few minutes ago. He promised he would spend the rest of his days—their days—showing her how much he treasured her. He framed her face in his large hands. “No one, Sophia, no one is more magical than you.”
She mimicked his gesture, cupping his face in her hands, and said, “Maybe it’s you who brings out the magic in me.”
He smiled a self-deprecating smile, but before he could say anything, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Come on. Let’s save your friends from those crazy girls. Dinner will be served early today. I don’t want to look sleepy and tired tomorrow.”
“You are always perfect, Beauty. Especially in the mornings.” He put his arm on the shoulders of the most gentle and giving woman he had known in his whole life, wondering what would he do without her.
Chapter 25
Saturday, August 7, 2010
9:15 a.m.
The sun was shyly shining outside and the temperature was just perfect. The balmy weather and the warm breeze guaranteed the most beautiful and agreeable of days.
Sophia finished her breakfast and walked to the bathroom remembering Alistair’s disappointed face when she pushed him out of the bedroom at nine o’clock.
A perfect day for a wedding. She had made it. Every small detail was in place. That devil of a stubborn man, he had proven himself right. Sophia grinned at her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror and stretched, arms over her head, closing her eyes. Today, I’m not going to worry about anything.
“You drive me crazy when you do that,” Alistair murmured in her ear, his hands encircling her waist.
She spun in his arms looking at him, surprised. “Alistair Connor. What are you doing here?”
“This is my bathroom and you are my wife-to-be. How can you ask me what I’m doing here?” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pressing her naked body to his clothed body. He wiggled his brows, looked down at her breasts and back at her face, grinning. “And I’m enjoying the view. Have you showered already?”
“Ah-ah. We can’t do this today. Or rather, not now. I have a busy schedule. And, Lord You’re-not-supposed-to-be-here, didn’t we agree fifteen minutes ago that you would only see me again when the castle doors opened?”
“Did we? I don’t recall.” He bit her earlobe and softly nibbled on it as his hand kneaded her buttocks gently. He turned her to the mirror and rested his chin on the top of her head so he could see her face while his hands traveled down and spanned her flat belly. “You are so beautiful. I love this mischievous smile of yours. And when your eyes turn this yellow-diamond color, I know that you and I are in for a hell of a good time.”
“I have to shower and get ready,” she complained with a moan, turning her head to look at him.
He pressed his advantage when she parted her lips and kissed her deeply, saying afterward, “I’ll wash your hair then.”
“Right. Wash my hair.” She twirled in his arms and her hands yanked his T-shirt off.
His hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs circled them until they had budded for him. He leaned her against the sink and his head dipped to taste her throat.
Sophia gasped when the cold marble touched her back, but was quickly distracted when his teeth nibbled one nipple and his fingers played with the other.
He kissed his way back along her throat, nibbling and lapping at her collarbone and neck as he toed off his jeans. “I can’t wait for you to be mine, Sophia. All mine. Really mine.”
There. There it is again. That quiet desperation in his voice that his heavy accent can’t hide. She framed his face and pushed it back to look in his eyes. “Amor, I’m yours already.”
His thin nostrils flared as he began to breathe heavily. “Forget the shower. I need you now.” His hands gripped her by the waist and turned her from him.
She looked at her own image in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her mouth was red and swollen by his kiss, her nipples were wet and erect. Ah! Naughty.
“Like what you see?” he asked as he shoved down his boxers and took himself in his hand, stroking his already full erection.
Oh! Damn the schedule! “I do!” Her hands shimmied over her body, from her thighs to her breasts, which she offered to him. “And you?”
“Love it.” His smile was feral as his large hands covered hers and with his body he pushed her down, ordering, “Down.”
She gripped the edge of the sink and gasped as his arousal pressed on her, testing her wetness.
“Hold on,” he commanded harshly, and thrust. His body tensed as he eased inside her just a bit. “Fuck. I love how tight you are.”
“I love how big and hard you are,” she replied.
His grunts and her moans echoed in the bathroom as he pumped from behind until he was inside her completely, conquering her as she sheathed him, demanding back all she gave.
“Oh, yeah! Just like that.” One arm wound around her keeping her in place and his free fingers searched for her clitoris, circling and pressing. His grip on her tightened. Heated and breathless, he growled, “Come, Sophia.”
“More,” she begged, softening under his rough seizure, feeling his need and his passion. She wanted to make him feel powerful and whole, just like he made her.
He groaned in masculine approval, “You make me so hot.”
The pleasure built in her body as he forcefully plunged in her. His expert fingers teased her to a mindless orgasm and she cried his name as her body shook in spams and she struggled to remain standing.
He held her against his front as he thrust once more, and shouted her name, his climax burning its way through his body.
His breaths came out in loud spurts as he carried a boneless Sophia in his arms to the shower and leaned on its wall, regaining his bearings.
She purred in contentment, “My legs are not obeying me anymore.”
He chuckled and turned on the water. “Mine aren’t that steady either.”
She giggled and stepped into the water, wiggling her fingers at him, “So, Lord Jelly-legs, you promised to wash my hair.”
11:16 a.m.
“Hmmm. I don’t know. But they form a strange couple, to say the least,” Alistair smelled the vanilla in the air and felt lightheaded. That’s new.
Tavish watched as Carolina descended the castle stairs on Drake’s arm. She was dressed in a fancy gauze layered red dress. Her sleeves fell to the floor, resembling bird wings when she walked. Her soft-brown hair was braided and piled in a high dramatic bun, with diamond and ruby pins in it.
“She is ravishing, Alistair Connor. But there’s something that doesn’t quite fit.” He looked at Alistair. “She is no’ like Sophia.”
No one is. He just snorted not deigning to answer Tavish.
“I mean…it’s as if the clothes weren’t made for her. As if she wasn’t quite comfortable in them.”
“When I met her, four months ago, I would have said she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. She was…introverted. Not antisocial, just shy. Almost awkward. Pretty, but not remarkable, much less this fashionable model that appeared at Galewick a few days ago. Even Sophia is astonished by the transformation.”
“And her fiancé…fuck, Alistair Connor, he’s so flamboyant. And he has a strange way of staring at people…” Tavish eyed the man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit without r
eally knowing what bothered him so much.
Alistair looked at Drake. “Aye, he’s weird. Christ, they’re coming our way.”
“Smile, Brother. He’s going to be Sophia’s brother-in-law,” Tavish nudged Alistair.
Drake’s eagle eyes raked over Alistair’s and Tavish’s attires and smirked. “Look, my love. I’ve never seen such manly looks in skirts.”
Alistair reined in his temper. “This is a kilt.”
Alistair and Tavish, and their father, were dressed in a Bonnie Prince Charlie jacket and a black three buttoned waistcoat, white shirt with a stiff, turned down collar and tie, wearing the MacCraig kilt, with a silver pin, a formal furred sporran with silver chain strap. The only difference between Alistair and the others was that his tie was silver silk and a fly tartan plaid was pinned on his left shoulder with a huge silver and emerald brooch with his father’s ducal crown, setting off his green eyes. An extraordinary jeweled sgian dubh was tucked in the sock of his right leg.
“Oh, yeah. I know. It’s just so…” Drake leered at Tavish and Alistair, “barbarian. Skirts and knifes. Don’t you think, Carolina?”
“Everything is so beautiful, Alistair. The flowers and the garden…amazing, really.” Carolina looked at Alistair with an apology in her eyes.
He smiled at her, “Sophia is amazing. She—”
“Oh, yeah, she is!” Drake interrupted. “She followed my advice, didn’t she?”
Alistair raised a black eyebrow, “Your…advice?”
Drake signaled to a waiter to be served with Malossol Sevruga caviar. “Yeah. I told her she had to hire the best wedding organizers. I even emailed her a list of them.”
Carolina looked down at him, surprised. “You did? You didn’t tell me.”
“It was nothing,” Drake waved his hand in the air dismissing her surprise. “I like to please beautiful damsels in distress.”
Alistair’s temper bubbled and spilt. “Sophia’s not—”
“If you would excuse us,” Tavish grabbed Alistair by the arm. “I just saw our father signaling to us. Please, make yourselves at home.”
“Of course,” Drake smirked as if he knew he had irritated Alistair. “Let’s grab some champagne, Carolina.”