Grayson's Vow

  "Turns out, Jessica Hawthorn was interested in investing in the family vineyard."

  I tilted my head, looking at him with confusion. "She did?" I'd only met with her so briefly. She'd agreed to give me the money to fund my plan, but she had been terse and dismissive.

  "Yeah." He smiled and there was a note of wonder in it.

  "And," he continued, "I want you to know that I came to all the conclusions about my feelings for you, and all the ways I've acted like a complete jackass, before I found out what you did for me, for us," he paused, "outrageous as it was," he didn't seem to be able to help adding.

  I swallowed, my smile fading as I looked down. "I schemed and plotted . . ." I looked up into his eyes. "I had to, Grayson. I didn't know if you'd truly take my father's deal or not, but if you did, he would have ruined your name and all the progress you'd made in fixing your reputation, and if you didn't, you'd be penniless. And it was all my fault. I had to fix it. I had to try." Tears sprung to my eyes.

  He stepped toward me, a tender smile appearing on his face. "I know, little witch. And we have a lot to talk about on that subject. But first I want you to know that I was wrong when I said you were anything at all like your father, or mine. You do plot, it's true," he smiled and ran a finger over my cheekbone, "but your ideas are filled with love and a joy for life, just like you. Nothing bad could come from you, Kira, because nothing bad is within you."

  Relief and happiness flowed through my veins unheeded. I shook my head. "I won't plot anymore," I insisted. "I mean . . . unless it's something very, very important." I shifted my eyes to the side. "Or, well, unless—"

  My words halted and my eyes shot to his face at the sound of his soft chuckle, his gaze filled with gentle amusement. "Okay," he said quietly. "I love you, Kira. I'll never stop saying it. I'm ready to brave the thorns. I'll plunge myself on them for you."

  "Sounds painful," I breathed.

  He laughed. "I'm hoping it was a metaphor. Charlotte," he said in explanation. Ah. Yes, Charlotte. She'd been calling and checking on me every day and although I hadn't confided my most recent Very Bad Idea until it was over and the tape had been sent to the news, she'd kept me going with her wise advice and words of comfort, and most of all offering her grandmotherly love.

  "The rose," I said. "I got that one, too."

  His lips tipped up in a boyish smile as he brushed a lock of hair away from my face. His expression became sadly contemplative. "I wish I had been truly ready to live by her words. We might have avoided these past few weeks."

  Emotion overwhelmed me and a tear rolled down my cheek. Grayson used his thumb to swipe it away. I caught the glint of silver and looked more closely at his hand as it fell away. "You found the ring?" I breathed.

  "Yes," he said. "And if it's still mine to keep, I'll never take it off."

  I nodded. "Yes, it's yours," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for keeping the secret about my father and your case from you. I never meant to hurt you. I love you, too. I never stopped. I never will. My dragon."

  Relief passed over his features before he asked hoarsely, "Can I hold you now?"

  I nodded my head vigorously, stepping into his embrace. He smiled against my forehead, rubbing his rough, masculine jaw on my skin. "Come home with me, Kira," he whispered. "Come back home. Please. Let me prove that I can be the husband you deserve."

  I nodded against his chest, breathing in the achingly delicious scent of fresh rain and my husband. My husband who loved me and wanted me to come home with him. The misery and grief and fear of the past weeks suddenly overwhelmed me and I gasped out a sob, burrowing my head more firmly against him. His arms came around me, and he nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head. "Please don't cry, Kira," he whispered. "I don't ever want to be the cause of your tears again."

  I nodded, grasping his shirt and looking up into his expression, raw with love and tenderness.

  He took my face in his hands, bending to kiss my mouth. I kissed him back hungrily, glorying in the taste of him, the feel of his lips on mine. I'd missed him so much. He leaned away, kissing the tears as they ran down my cheeks, his breath hot on my skin. Raising my mouth to his, I kissed him again and again, tasting the salty essence of my heartache on his lips, rejoicing in the way our kisses made it sweet again. Both of us were breathless as my tears finally abated.

  When he pulled his mouth from mine, his eyes moved over my face as he whispered, "You could be pregnant."

  I blinked and then shook my head. "I'm not," I said, recalling the day a week ago when my period had come. I'd been partially relieved, but mostly disappointed and I told Grayson so. "I thought even if you didn't want me anymore, at least I'd have a small part of you forever."

  "Kira," he said hoarsely, pulling me to him again and hugging me tightly.

  I looked up, my eyes meeting his. "Take me home," I said.

  **********

  After walking a grinning Kimberly to her car and hugging her goodbye, Grayson and I packed my suitcase and got into his truck, heading home. Home. At the thought of the word, my heart leapt with joy.

  I'd pick up my car another day. For now, I couldn't bear to be apart from my husband even for an hour.

  We spent the car ride updating each other on everything that had happened since we'd parted.

  Grayson listened to me explain the plan Harley, Priscilla, and I had all come up with, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I don't know whether to kill all three of you, or to build a shrine to your courage," he gritted out.

  "I personally like the shrine idea. I mean, if you're taking votes." I gave him my most brilliant smile.

  His eyes caught mine and he smiled back and then laughed softly. "That damn dimple may have just saved you." I laughed, flashing it at him again.

  "I think Harley deserves a promotion," he said. "He's obviously gifted at task juggling. Not only was he helping you, but he organized a whole crew of men to come work at the vineyard even though I couldn’t pay them at the time."

  "I know." I smiled. "Charlotte told me."

  He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. "So I was the only one left out of the loop? Apparently everyone knew everything going on except for me."

  I put my hand on his arm. "Never again," I said. "From now on, all my plots will involve you."

  "You're not supposed to plot anymore," he reminded me.

  I bit my lip. "Oh, right . . ." He leaned his head back and laughed.

  As we drove through the gates of Hawthorn Vineyard, Grayson grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

  We pulled up to the house and Charlotte came outside, clasping her hands to her chest in delight. We both got out and she descended the stairs, taking me in her arms and hugging me so tightly I laughed, struggling to breathe.

  "How's Walter?" I asked.

  "He's wonderful! He comes home tomorrow." And then she hugged me again. Feelings of gratitude and contentment flowed through me. I was home. At last, my heart whispered. At last.

  Harley, Virgil, José, and several men I didn't know came walking toward the house, apparently just finished with work for the day. They were laughing and joking and called out greetings when they got close. Sugie came running up behind them, chuffing excitedly, and for a moment, time slowed as I grinned around at them: my family. A group of misfits and underdogs who, together, had brought a failing vineyard back to life, and turned the table on two very powerful, corrupt men.

  "Hey Harley," Grayson called out. "Call your woman. She needs to join us. I have about a thousand toasts to make to her."

  Harley grinned. "Will do, my man."

  We decided not to watch the news that night. The world would wait. After we had all enjoyed a family dinner full of boisterous laughing and talking and many, many cheers all around, Grayson and I retired to our bedroom. He made love to me first fiercely and quickly, and then again, slowly and sweetly, relief flowing through me at being filled by him again. As I lay in his arms afterward, I felt limp with happiness and love
.

  "Kira," he murmured, turning to me, "I want you to know that I've made a new vow—one I intend to live by for the rest of my life."

  "What?" I whispered, sensing the importance of the words he was about to say.

  He tipped my face up to his. "We're married, and there will be times when we disagree or fight, or even question the other. There will be times when loving you brings up every fear inside me. But my vow is this: no matter what happens, I will never leave the room until we've worked through it." His eyes moved over my face, his expression gentle and vulnerable. "And by that, I mean I won't draw away inside myself either. I'll stay present until we've solved the issue between us, no matter how long it takes. I don't want you ever to worry I'll push you away again. I vow that to you with my whole heart."

  I felt a deep ache of tenderness as I nodded up at him. "I vow the same."

  He smiled gently. "And sometimes we'll meet halfway, but other times, I'll come to you. And I'll try my very best to put my pride aside so I know when I need to be the one to do that."

  "Me too," I whispered, tears flooding my eyes. He leaned forward and kissed my eyelids, causing the tears to flow down my cheeks. He kissed my tears away and then pulled me closer against him, nuzzling his face into my hair.

  And these vows, made in private whispers in the dim light of the moon streaming through our bedroom window, felt sacred and real, for these vows were based on truth and love.

  EPILOGUE

  Eight Years Later

  Grayson

  "What exactly are you doing, little sprite?" I asked, staring down at the seven-year-old girl crawling through the grass. Her head popped up, cascades of auburn hair falling down her back, deep brown eyes blinking up at me.

  "I'm pretending to be a caterpillar," she answered.

  "Ah," I said, holding back the smile that tugged at my lips. "Yesterday you were a daisy, and today you're a caterpillar."

  She came up on her knees, putting her hands on her small hips. "Grandpa Walter says you can't truly understand someone else unless you see the world through their eyes."

  "Does he now?" That sounded just like Walter, the man who had taught me everything I knew about being a good father. "Well, I don't know if he was referring to daisies and caterpillars."

  "But they're my favorite!" she insisted. "I want to understand them most of all!"

  I chuckled. "And what have you discovered so far?"

  "Well, daisies look up at the sky all day and watch it change. They must think the world is a very pretty place. Caterpillars just look at the ground." She frowned. "Caterpillars must be very disappointed with the world."

  I laughed, picking her up in my arms and smiling into her serious little face. "You know what I see? A pretty little girl with a very compassionate heart. Now, where's your little sister? I have something to tell the both of you."

  "She's playing dress-up in the cottage. Daddy, did you put another baby inside Mommy?"

  My eyes widened and I paused. "How did you know that?"

  "You had that same look on your face when you told me you'd put Celia in mommy's tummy."

  "What look is that exactly?"

  She scratched her arm, her expression contemplative. "I don't know. Kind of like how Sugie looks when she catches a stick."

  I laughed out loud, picturing the mostly proud, but slightly shocked look on Sugie's face when she accomplished something she found brilliant. "Well, you're right. And, guess what? It's another sister."

  "Another sister?" Her face broke out in a grin, showcasing her missing tooth, and the endearing dimple she'd inherited from her mother. "That's a lot of girls, Daddy."

  I grinned. "Yup." Happiness flowed through my heart. It didn't seem that life could hold any more joy than it did right now, and yet somehow, every day it grew just a little bit more. All because of a girl who once bravely walked into my office and proposed marriage. All because I'd finally had the courage to surrender to my sweet little witch and in return, she'd given me a houseful of spirited girls who climbed trees, pretended to be caterpillars, sassed me back on occasion, put me in my place very regularly, reminded me often I was definitely not the ruler in my own home, and generally drove me to distraction.

  I set Isabelle down and we entered the small cottage where, once upon a time, a very beautiful witch had lived, and found four-year-old Celia outfitted as a princess, sipping tea at the miniature table in the front room. Several years ago, we'd had the cottage cleaned, updated, and turned into a playhouse for our girls.

  "We're going to have another sister!" Belle shouted.

  Celia's plastic cup stopped halfway to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. "Another sister," she said, jumping to her feet. She wobbled toward me on plastic heels and threw herself into my arms as I bent to catch her. "Thank you, Daddy. I wished for a little sister."

  I smiled into her beautiful heart-shaped face, her green eyes bright with happiness and the slight bit of mischief they always held. "It's my job you know, to make all your wishes come true."

  Her expression turned thoughtful as she twirled a lock of her dark hair. "Can I have a pony then?"

  I used my index finger to bop her on her nose. "And," I qualified, "not to spoil you rotten."

  "Hmm," she grumped, but I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She was already plotting a way to get that pony.

  I laughed and the three of us went up to the main house where Charlotte was in the kitchen. I took a deep inhale, the air fragrant with a sweet, lemony scent.

  "Grammy Charlotte," Celia called. "We're having a baby sister!"

  Charlotte laughed and caught Celia in her arms as Isabelle hugged Charlotte's waist. "I know, my loves; I heard the wonderful news. Should we celebrate with a lemon bar, fresh from the oven?"

  "Or maybe two?" Celia tilted her head and smiled prettily.

  I laughed. "Watch that one."

  Charlotte grinned as I kissed her on her cheek. "Have you seen Kira?" I asked.

  "I think she went out back," she said, setting Celia down. "You go find her, I've got these two." She smiled happily, and I left knowing how overjoyed and thankful she felt with a houseful of little girls to spoil and coddle and love. And bake treats for.

  I winked at her and went in search of my wife, having an idea where she might be. As I walked down the hill, I looked out over the grapevines beyond, my chest swelling with pride. Eight years ago, we'd brought this vineyard back from the brink of ruin with the money Jessica had given me, lots of hard work, and plenty of loyal friends. Since then, we'd grown more successful every year, even winning several awards for the wines produced. Hawthorn Vineyard was thriving, and I was especially proud of the fact that we now employed almost two hundred people, many of whom were ex-cons just looking for a second chance, looking for someone to believe in them. Harley, now my director of operations, had inspired that idea. And a few other businesses in Napa had even followed suit when word got out about how loyal and hardworking our employees were.

  Kira's gram's money had eventually been unlocked, long before the trial was over that put Cooper Stratton behind bars for a whole laundry list of crimes. Frank Dallaire had never been proven guilty of participating in anything illegal, but as he knew better than anyone, in politics, perception is everything. No one wanted to be linked to the suspicion that surrounded his name. He disappeared from the political landscape and, as far as we knew, was no longer involved in government at all. Nor was he involved in our life.

  Thankfully though, we weren't lacking for family, including Shane and Vanessa. They now had two boys who visited often and always left looking slightly stunned after our girls ran roughshod over them, playing tricks, forcing them to play dress-up, and participate in slightly naughty escapades.

  "I thought I'd find you here," I said, turning the last corner of the well-tended maze. I smiled as I joined Kira on the bench in front of the splashing fountain where she sat with her hand on her tiny baby bump. The emeralds from her wedding ring flashed
in the sun, reminding me of the day I'd slipped it on her finger as we'd renewed our vows in a small sunlit ceremony under the apricot tree in our vineyard. I'd wanted to give her a real wedding day, one filled with love, joy, and family—and that's what I'd done.

  My wife smiled, shooting me the dimple, and causing my heart to flip. "It's my favorite place, the heart of your lair. I always know you'll find me here, dragon."

  I chuckled softly and gathered her to me, lifting her onto my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and put her forehead against mine. "Another girl," she sighed happily.

  I nuzzled her neck. "Hmm," I murmured. "Another woman to keep me under her thumb. It's almost like you planned it this way."

  Kira laughed. "No, not planned it, just dreamed it. Dreamed of this life you've given me." She took my face in her hands and kissed my lips. "Thank you," she whispered against my mouth.

  Gratitude and love overwhelmed me, and I brought my wife even closer, hugging her to my body and inhaling her sweet scent. And in that moment, I knew I would never again believe life didn't hold miracles. With her love, my beautiful little witch had transformed a place once filled with loneliness and pain into a place filled with joy and dreams. As we held each other, the age-old phrase whispered through the trees, the roses, and the grapevines beyond: In Vino Veritas. In wine there is truth.

  But the greater knowledge that now lived in the peaceful silence of my heart was: in love there is truth.

  And the truth that love had taught me was you can only be strong once you are brave enough to break, and that pain makes more room for love within. I was grateful for it all, because that was the beautiful balance of life.

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I had a lot of help writing this book.

  Huge love and thanks to my storyline editor, Angela Smith, for helping me hone up the plot, and for believing in this story—even more than me at times. Thank you for being there from the first word to the last.