Ironic how the plan I’d set into motion only for her protection and safety had turned out to be unnecessary in the end. Brynne didn’t need the high-profile celebrity status anymore because her stalker was dead, taking the eternal punishment he so richly deserved.
We never did find out exactly what happened to Karl Westman, but I had a really good theory. After my dad had driven us away from the scene, Neil, Ivan and Len stayed back to investigate. My first priority was to get Brynne to safety above all else, and I’d seen plenty of dead bodies to recognize one when I see one. Westman was killed instantly by a high caliber bullet to the head.
What happened there was strange, though. I’d worked it out for the most part and highly doubted there would ever be confirmation from the senator, but Ivan had told me that when he went looking to retrieve the arrow he’d fired, somebody had taken the body away. It was just gone in a matter of moments. Only professionals are capable of that kind of operation. Neil and Len sniffed around again the next morning when it was light and there was nothing there. Even the blood was washed away. No trace of anything.
Brynne had mentioned how the whole place was eerily quiet and that she’d never seen another person at the hotel, which made no sense with the Games happening. So that pretty much confirmed there were people involved at the highest levels. U.S. Secret Service, most likely. Westman was a dead man before he ever took Brynne from the flat.
Disaster averted, but still, far too fucking close for my comfort. This whole mess had happened for a reason. Very strange, but true. The knowledge that if Westman hadn’t started stalking her, we wouldn’t have met, or ever gotten together, or be about to marry and have a baby. It was all just a bit much to rationalize sometimes, even if it was our reality. I tried not to think about that part. Brynne was free to live a regular life now, with nobody out there plotting to take her away, or harm her, or bother with any aspect of her, and this was my greatest gift. Thank the heavenly angels . . . and one very special angel in particular.
“Ethan!” She was frowning at me.
“Yeah?” I asked, rubbing my thumb between her brows to smooth out the lines of her frown.
“You’re not listening to me. I answered you and you were off in a dream somewhere.”
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
She gave me a look and then started in with the shirt plucking and smoothing again. “What I was saying was that . . . I would go through a hundred of these ridiculous celebrity weddings if it meant I was marrying you.” She lifted her brown/green/gray eyes up to mine. “You’re so worth it, Mr. Blackstone.”
It was a good while before we got on the road up to Hallborough.
Two days later . . .
♥Ben and I watched Simon from the rose garden and hoped he didn’t spot us. In his very green Milanese bespoke suit, he arranged guests for candid shots in all sorts of crazy avant-garde positions.
“God help us if these pictures he’s taking get out to the general public. We’ll all be royally fucked—quite literally!” Ben said dryly, nodding his head toward the naughty antics of a certain ginger-haired prince and his unidentified date. “Why on earth did Ethan hire Simon Carstairs to do the wedding pictures?”
“Ahhh . . . well, that would be a situation where Ethan found himself having a slice of humble pie, or as we say in the states, eating crow, in regards to our dear Simon. Ethan called him to apologize for his blowup, and by the end of the conversation had secured the photographic services of the most flaming gay photographer in all of London, if not all of Europe.” I shrugged. “He takes beautiful pictures and it all worked out in the end.” I nudged Ben. “Simon really had his heart set on that freaky green suit.”
Ben and I laughed together and continued watching the revelry. Simon really looked like the train wreck you couldn’t tear your eyes away from in his leaf green suit. He had Gaby and Ivan together in a few shots. I wondered how they were getting along since they’d been thrown together in this as maid of honor and best man. Gaby looked beautiful, as always, and Ivan looked at her like he thought so too. I’d have to corner her later and get the scoop. I could see the potential for the two of them just in their body language and how they moved in relation to each other. There was some chemistry brewing, I was sure.
“I would have taken your wedding pictures, you know,” Ben said.
I looked up into his handsome face. “I know. But I needed my friend, that I love so dearly, for something much more important today.”
“I know,” Ben whispered back and grabbed my hands, “and it was my very great honor to walk you down the aisle at your wedding. I—I’m pretty speechless right now, Bree. You are so beautiful, my darling friend, on the inside and on the outside.” He squeezed my hands. “And seeing you happy, standing up there with Ethan, was just something so breathtaking I don’t really have the words to tell you properly, except that I love you.” He brought my hands up to his mouth for a kiss.
“Okay . . . I’m crying now, Benny.” I laughed through a sob. “Got a handkerchief for the blubbering, hormonal bride?”
“I’m sorry, luv,” he said sheepishly, handing over his handkerchief.
“You’re fine,” I told him, dabbing at my eyes carefully. “There really wasn’t anyone else I could ask. I didn’t want to walk alone. I don’t know why, but I knew that Daddy would have wanted me to have you there. He thought the world of you and our friendship, Benny. And you were there at the gallery that night—you told me to look over at the hot guy in the gray suit with the wide-open eyes that burned me from across the room. You were there right at the first of Ethan and me.”
“Yeah, I was.” Ben was looking pretty watery himself right now.
“Here.” I handed him back his handkerchief.
We both laughed and pulled ourselves together. “Thanks for inviting my mum today,” he said.
“Of course! I love your mom. She’s so adorable when she’s had a few drinks, and she loves to see you all prettied up. I’m so glad you brought her with you.”
“Well, she loves you too, and if I wasn’t gay she’d have made me marry you years ago. She wants to be a granny, and she’s going to be all over that baby when it gets here, so you’d better be prepared.” Ben nodded down at my bump, which was just beginning to make its appearance.
“That’s so sweet,” I said, looking out in the gathering to find my mother and Frank chatting with some Italian diplomat at their table. Things were somewhat better between my mom and me, but I didn’t know if there was much hope for the future of the relationship. And that was okay. It really was. I had a family now that needed me as much as I needed them. All of those people lived in England. This was my place in the world now.
There were plenty others around me that counted. My baby, for one. Ethan’s dad and my aunt Marie would be the grandparents my mom and dad never would be. Hannah, Freddy, Gaby, Ivan, Ben, Neil and Elaina would be the aunts and uncles. Jordan and Colin and Zara would be the cousins. So much love surrounding me.
Strong arms wrapped around me from behind and familiar whiskers brushed at my neck. “Mrs. Blackstone, are you hiding in the garden at your own wedding party?”
“Pretty much,” I said leaning back into him in deep contentment.
“Awww, Christ in heaven! Not my mum too!” Ben growled at the dance floor where Simon was now doing a very lewd rumba with Mrs. Clarkson for a cheering crowd.
“Go get ’em, Ben.” Ethan and I laughed at Ben’s retreating back as he went off to rescue his mother from Simon’s undulating hips.
“As insane as Simon looks right now, that crazy boy can dance,” I said, still laughing. “I am not quite over the fact that you hired him to do our photos.”
Ethan snuggled into me a little deeper. “Don’t remind me, please. He blackmailed me, you know. Said he would forgive the whole mess if he could secure the wedding photos for us. I figured that wou
ld be okay, so I agreed. Then he sent me the contract. Trust me when I say that your friend Simon has been well compensated for his services today. He even sent me the bill for a fucking bespoke suit made in Milan!”
I nearly choked from laughing. “Oh my God!” I pointed at Simon slithering behind Ben’s mom in his shiny green silk. “There you go, baby. Money well spent, I say. Simon looks soooo happy.” I laughed some more.
“They’d better be fucking museum-quality photographs,” Ethan muttered.
“I saw you dancing with the local beauty with the penchant for ice cream a little while ago,” I said, hoping to divert attention to something more pleasant.
Ethan’s whole face changed immediately. “She’s so amazing. I hope our little peach is just like her if we have a girl.” He put his hands over my belly. “I can feel peaches now. Your belly is hard, and it wasn’t before.”
“Yep. Peaches is in there, all right.” I put my hands over his.
“I love your dress. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“You’re pretty hot yourself in that tux. You got a purple vest just for me. I love it. We are very matchy-matchy, Mr. Blackstone.” And we were indeed. My cream lace dress had a purple belt that tied in the back, and I wore the amethyst and pearl heart pendant around my neck. Ethan had his violet striped vest and a deep purple lily on his jacket. My veil was long and simple, but I loved it because of the pictures I had taken wearing it. Pictures only for Ethan’s eyes. I wanted him to see. “I have a gift for you,” I said.
“That sounds very nice,” he said with another nuzzle against my neck, “but everything about you is my gift.” He held my face with both of his hands as I loved him to do. “How does Mrs. Blackstone feel about leaving here and getting started on the wedding night?”
One second later . . .
♥“Mrs. Blackstone is so onboard with that plan.”
He held out his arm for me. “My lady, shall we?”
“Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy your gentlemanly manners? Such a contrast with that filthy mouth you’ve got, but man, it really works for me.”
Ethan got a very pleased look in his eyes. “Well, that’s really good to know, baby. I think I can walk that line for you.” His eyes hooded, he drew my hand up to his lips. “I’ll make sure of it tonight.”
Thank sweet baby Jesus. “I have to run upstairs to our room and get my gift for you, okay? I’ll just be a moment.”
He kissed my hand and swirled his tongue in a circle, just above where my ring sat next to the wedding band he’d slipped on my finger during our vows, before letting me go. “I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. I just have to tell Hannah that we’re escaping,” he purred at me.
“God, I love you so much,” I said to him.
He gave me a rare Ethan smile and said, “I love you more.”
“Highly doubtful,” I called over my shoulder, “but I’ll take it!”
I hurried to get the package from our bedroom and was coming back down when I sensed a warmth of feeling. It touched me, wrapping around my body like a cloak in a comforting way. I stopped on the landing where the magnificent Mallerton of Sir Jeremy and Georgina hung on the wall. I loved looking at this painting, and it wasn’t just the subject matter or the execution, which was stunning, it was the emotion expressed in it. There was great love in this family. Sir Jeremy with his blue eyes and sandy hair looked to his lovely, fair Georgina with an expression that just exuded his deep love for her. I don’t know how Tristan Mallerton managed to get it down in paint, but he most certainly had captured the moment between these lovers from so long ago. And it just took my breath away in its pureness.
And then there were the children—an older boy and a younger girl. The little girl sat on her mother’s lap, but she had eyes only for her father. I imagined how he must have entertained her during the long hours of sittings for such a portrait as this. My art training gave me an understanding of the time involved to create a painting of this scale; it would have been immense. A child didn’t look like that unless she felt it. This little girl had loved her daddy, and been loved very much by him in return. Just like me.
I love you so much, Daddy . . .
As I turned away from the painting to go down the rest of the way, I could see Ethan waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase. Just waiting patiently as if he understood I was having a moment and needed my privacy. Ethan seemed to recognize my moods at times like this. And if I really thought about it, Ethan had been the greatest gift my dad had ever given to me.
Thomas Bennett, my precious and loving father, had sent Ethan Blackstone to find me in London so he could rescue me. I now had the rest of my life to be thankful for that fact.
Thank you, Daddy. I looked at the little girl in the painting and felt the connection with her, even with centuries between us. I hoped that Sir Jeremy Greymont’s daughter had enjoyed many long years of knowing her father. Twenty-five years was the amount of time I had been given with mine, and I must accept it with grace for the priceless gift it was.
I refused to be sad in thinking of my dad on my wedding day. He was only a happy thought for me now. He loved me and I loved him. He was still with me somehow, and I was still with him, and nothing could ever take that away from either of us.
♠ “Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them, okay?” I parked the car and went over to Brynne’s side to help her out. “No peeking, Mrs. Blackstone, I want to do this right.”
“Eyes are closed, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, standing before me. “My package. Give it to me, please.”
I retrieved it from the seat and placed it carefully in her hands. It was light, just a flat black box tied with a silver ribbon. “Ready?”
“I am,” she said.
“Okay, keep them closed, and I’m going to pick you up and carry you.”
“Sounds very traditional,” she said.
“I like to think of myself as a traditional guy, baby.” I scooped her up, careful to arrange her dress so it wouldn’t drag, and started walking up the gravel drive of Stonewell Court. The rocks crunched under my feet and you could hear the sound of the waves on the rocks far below us. It looked amazing and I hoped she liked it. The whole place was lit with torches in old urns, and candles glowing inside glass luminaria on the ground. Even the upper suite was lit up from the inside. Our wedding-night suite.
“I can hear the ocean,” she said up against me, one hand on the back of my neck lightly caressing back and forth.
“Mmm-hmm.” I stopped at what I felt was the perfect place for the unveiling. “Okay, we have arrived at our nuptial destination, Mrs. Blackstone. I’m going to set you down so you can get the full effect,” I warned before tilting her down to stand on her own. I faced her toward the house and covered her eyes gently with my hands.
“I want to look. Are we sleeping here?”
“Not sure how much sleeping we’ll be doing . . . but we will be here tonight.” I kissed her on the back of the neck and took my hands away. “For you, my beauty. You can open your eyes now.”
“Stonewell Court. I thought this is where we were. I remember the smell of the sea and the sound of the gravel when we walked here. It’s so beautiful I—I can’t believe all this.” She opened her arms. “Who did this for us?”
She still doesn’t understand. I brought my hands to her shoulders and kissed her neck from behind. “Hannah, mostly. She’s been trying to work a miracle for me.”
“Well, I think she has succeeded. It takes my breath away.” She turned to face me. “It’s the perfect place for us to spend our wedding night,” she said, leaning into my body.
I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly, surrounded by the glow of torches and the ocean breeze. “Do you like it?”
“I more than like it. I love that we get to be here.” She turned bac
k around and leaned into me again and looked at the house some more.
“I’m very glad about that, Mrs. Blackstone, because after we were here together I couldn’t get this place out of my head. I wanted to bring you back here. The inside needs some attention, but the bones are good and the foundation stone-solid, perched up here on the rocks. This house has been here a long time and hopefully it will still be here a long time from now.”
I slipped the small envelope from my pocket and brought it around to hold in front of her so she could see it.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s your wedding present. Open it.”
She opened the flap and tipped the odd assortment into her hand—some modern, some very old. “Keys?” She turned around, her eyes wide with shock. “You bought the house?!”
I couldn’t hold back my grin. “Not exactly.” I turned her to face the house again, drawing my arms around her from behind and resting my chin on the top of her head. “I bought us a home. For you and me, and for peaches, and any other raspberries or blueberries that might come along later. This place has plenty of rooms to put them in.”
“How many blueberries are we talking here? Because I’m looking at a really big house that must have a lot of rooms to fill.”
“That, Mrs. Blackstone, remains to be seen, but I can assure you that I will give you my very best efforts at filling a few.”
“Ahh, then what are you standing out here for? Hadn’t you better get cracking?” She asked smugly.
I swooped her up, and started walking. Fast. If she was ready for HoneymoonLand then I was not the fool to be delaying matters. Again, not a moron.
My legs swallowed up the rest of the path quickly, and then the stone steps of our new country house. “And the bride goes over the threshold,” I said, pushing the heavy oaken door with my shoulder.
“You’re getting more and more traditional all the time, Mr. Blackstone.”