By the time Westman was out of the picture, our wedding plans were already deep in motion, and press releases gone out to the gossips rags. Too late to call any of it back, or change the guest lists, so we’d just gone along with what had been originally scheduled. Big wedding, numerous parties, weekend guests, a noisy send-off to our luxurious Italian honeymoon—all carefully constructed to publicize Brynne’s status as the wife of elite security, connected at the deepest levels to the British government.
And apparently, the trend of inviting select members to stay overnight to wish the happy couple off the morning after, was the “in thing” at the moment. I suppressed the urge to scoff at the idea. I couldn’t wait to get away with her. Just us. Alone in our own little world where everything was safe and peaceful and we could catch a breath.
I smiled at her and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “It was mine, my beauty. Blame me.”
She tilted her head up and cracked an eye open. “Blame you for the fact I’m sleepy due to a very busy wedding night, or the big hectic wedding neither of us wanted?”
I laughed at her logic. “Both. Guilty on all counts, Mrs. Blackstone.”
“Okay, so your punishment is getting the shower ready and carrying me in, because I don’t think I am capable of walking just yet. You know what your orgasms do to me.”
I did know very well. She usually fell asleep for a few minutes. “I don’t know if I can either after that epic shag, but I’ll give it my very best.” I carefully rolled her off me and hauled myself up to sit at the side of the bed. “More than just a little motivated here, baby. My plan is to whisk you away where I can keep you all to myself.” I picked up my mobile from the bedside table and checked the time. “And to make that happen, I have exactly five hours to get you on a plane with me bound for the Italian coast. If I must have breakfast with a slew of people in order to get us the hell out of here, then so be it, but know this…if I could manage it, we would’ve already snuck away and been long gone by now.”
Brynne’s only response was to observe me from the bed as I left to go get the water started for our shower, and she hadn’t moved at all by the time I’d returned; just lying there tangled in the sheets, looking soft and flushed from shuddering in my arms only moments before. So beautiful to me, I had nothing else to compare her against. Brynne was the definition of beauty when she looked like this after I’d just had her.
Her eyes drew over my body, seeing and evaluating as she often did when I was naked. My girl liked a little leer when the opportunity presented. And if we hadn’t just shagged to within an inch of our lives, my damn c**k would’ve been standing at attention begging right now, with the way her eyes were on me. Brynne could express so much without ever saying a single word. How in the hell she managed to be so off-the-charts f**king sexy by just giving me a look, I will never know. I was just the lucky bastard who reaped the benefits, I suppose.
We stared at each other, neither willing to look away, when she gave up one of her barely-there, signature smiles. The kind of smile that shows just the hint of gladness, but with Brynne, it tells me she is happily content with sunny skies in our immediate future.
“You are absolutely adorable right now, Mr. Blackstone.”
I shook my head at her. “I can think of few other words to describe me at the moment, baby, and adorable is definitely not among them.” Barking mad maybe, but no f**king way “adorable” fits the bill.
“But to me you are,” she said. “So frustrated at being forced to be social, and having to put on a show for those people, as you call them, who just happen to be our closest friends and family, and only want to wish us well and send us off on our honeymoon in style.”
“I know,” I admitted. “I just don’t want to share you right now…with anybody.” And I didn’t. At least I was honest about it.
Brynne held her arms out to me, and I reached down to pick her up, settling her against my chest, cradling her bum in my hands as she wrapped her legs around my hips. I walked us into the bathroom, kissing her sweet lips the whole way, counting the hours until my wish would be granted.
OF course there were jibes and catcalls when we showed up to Hallborough for the morning-after breakfast-slash brunch. Ethan would’ve had us climb out the window and slip away if he could’ve gotten away with it, but I’d convinced him we didn’t have a choice but to show up. I reminded him how happy it would make everyone to see us this morning, and in the end I’m pretty sure he agreed with me, because I had my methods of persuasion, and felt it was my prerogative to use them if I needed to. But as we walked in to join everyone, the knowing looks on their faces, the inner speculations about what Ethan and I had been doing the night previous was a little too invasive for my tastes. I loathed for people to think private thoughts about me. I understood very well why I had hang-ups with that particular idea; it didn’t change anything for me. I still felt that way.
As I tried to smile and look happy, realizing the people in the room were imagining all the sex I’d just enjoyed with my husband, put me on the defensive. I had to agree with Ethan’s earlier suggestion. The window escape plan sounded pretty damn appealing right about now. He must have sensed my reluctance, because he gave my side a little squeeze and whispered, “Four more hours, my beauty. We’ve got this.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my head and in we went.
Duties to our guests aside, I was very aware of how Hannah had gone over and above in her efforts on our behalf, along with our wedding planner, and the perfectly timed assistance of Elaina, had ensured our gig had gone off without a hitch and I couldn’t be more satisfied with how everything had turned out.
Only one thing was missing. Well, one person…but there was nothing to help me with that one. Love you, Dad.
The formal hall at Hallborough was casually set up with several tables dressed in cream linens, purple flowers, and old silver, that had to be worth a small fortune. The fact that Ethan and I would soon be country neighbors with Hannah and Freddy, and their three beautiful children, was something that made me very happy. Having a family to love and support you meant everything to me. They had done so much for us already. I looked forward to being closer and spending more time together.
So I found myself standing amid all the splendor, with my husband beside me, making the rounds, thanking everyone who’d stayed over at Hallborough to celebrate with us. He looked gorgeous as usual without barely any effort, his damp hair curling at the neck of his thin creamy sweater, paired with faded jeans and buttery-soft loafers in camel. Ethan did casual just as skillfully as he did suits. Mouthwatering.
After our shower, we’d dressed quickly and driven over to greet our guests one last time before taking off. We’d insisted on a very casual and informal gathering this morning, thus our simple outfits of jeans for Ethan, and a white eyelet sundress with leather wedges for me. I ended up wearing my hair down, because he had indeed laid a significant hickey on the side of my neck, and I certainly didn’t feel like sharing it with others the morning after my wedding night. It would only serve to feed more fuel to their imaginings of how I’d earned it. Nope. I was too private for that kind of nonsense. And Ethan’s remorse later over marking me up, after the fact, always struck me as a little surprising too. For a man so dominant during sex, he sure worried about me a lot. I had told him over and over that if he ever went too far, I’d let him know, but I’m not sure he really and truly believed me. Oh, Ethan, what am I going to do with you?
He never took his hands off me the whole time. As we chatted from place to place in the room, he always had an arm tucked around my waist, or a hand at my back. He would press kisses into my hair and brush up and down the side of my bare arm with his hand if we were idle. He just seemed to need it, and for whatever reasons, the idea that he needed to touch me in order to feel comfort, was extremely powerful in my own journey of emotional healing. I felt much loved and very cherished as we made our way around to thank everyone.
Even my mother managed to be happy for us.
“Oh, darling, what a pretty dress you’ve chosen to go away in. I love the cutwork at the hem,” she gushed.
The cutwork at the hem? Seriously? “Ahhh, thanks, Mom. You know me, I like things brutally simple,” I told her as I accepted a hug. It wasn’t lost on me that Ethan and my mother didn’t really acknowledge each other. They had a wary truce of sorts for the moment, both of them intelligent enough to get through the wedding without adding to the drama. Poor Ethan; he’d inherited a monster-in-law, and now had to tolerate her for life.
My mother frowned at my answer, just a tad mind you, but still qualified as a frown by my standards, her unlined face not even hinting to her true age of forty-four. She looked much younger. “But you could wear anything right now, Brynne. You should take advantage of it while you still can.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, my mother realized her mistake and started fidgeting with my hair. She’d managed to bring up my pregnancy, and avoid it like the white elephant in the room that it most definitely was, both at the same time. Bravo, Mom. Why couldn’t she be even a little bit more like my Aunt Marie? Marie didn’t judge, didn’t make me feel like an irresponsible slut for getting pregnant before I was married, and didn’t pretend she wasn’t going to be a grandmother in another six months. “I don’t know why you don’t wear your hair up, darling; it would give just the right touch of elegance to that neckline—”
Mom’s eyes widened. And then she dropped the bun of my hair she’d been arranging like it was radioactive waste. As my hair settled back down around my neck, she shoved Frank forward to give his congratulations. Guess the giant hickey had freaked her shit right out. Was it bad I had to stifle the urge to tell her how good it had felt when Ethan gave it to me?
I wished for a tiny moment I could indulge in one of those mimosas people were drinking with their breakfast.
My stepfather, Frank, kissed me on the cheek and told me I was a beautiful bride. As much as I tried to appreciate his gesture I felt a sudden clawing ache for my own father, who wasn’t here. And whom I’d never see again.