Bram watched hiswife’s beautiful face glow in the flames from the bonfire and realized that the panic that had been his silent companion for as long as he could remember had disappeared. If a woman as wise as Georgie could accept him, flaws and all, then it was long past time he accepted himself.
This exquisite, caring, smart, wonderful creature was his. Maybe he should be afraid of failing her, but he wasn’t. In every way that counted, he would always be there for her.
As night settled in, Georgie finally noticed a dinghy approaching from a yacht anchored offshore. “What’s that?”
“My surprise,” he whispered against her hair. “I wanted our wedding night to be on a boat. To make up for the first time.”
She smiled. “You did that long ago.”
Their guests saw them off with a shower of organic brown rice Meg had brought along. As they rode out to the yacht, Bram held his wife tight. He wanted their wedding night to be perfect. Lance had given her a carriage with six white horses, and Bram couldn’t stand the idea of falling short.
As soon as they were on board, he led her through the quiet ship to the largest stateroom. “Welcome to your honeymoon, my love.”
“Oh, Bram…”
Everything was just as he’d arranged. White pillar candles nesting inside hurricane shades cast a shimmering light across the warm wooden paneling and luxurious carpets. “It’s beautiful…,” she said in a way that convinced him she’d forgotten all about the carriage and horses. “I love it. I love you.” Her gaze moved past him to the bed, and she burst out laughing. “Are those rose petals scattered on the sheets?”
He smiled against her skin. “Too much?”
“Way too much.” She threw her arms around him. “I love it!”
He undressed her slowly, kissing all that he uncovered: the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast. He went to his knees and kissed her belly, her thighs, knowing he was the luckiest man on earth. She undressed him just as slowly, and when he couldn’t endure it any longer, he drew her to the bed, and the rose petal sheets.
Which had seemed like a good idea, but…
He pulled a petal from his mouth. “These suckers are everywhere.”
“I’ll say. Even here.” She eased open her thighs. “Do something about it, will you?”
So maybe the rose petals weren’t such a bad idea after all.
The boat rocked beneath them. They made love again and again, cocooned in their private, sensual world, vowing with their bodies everything they’d promised with their words.
The next morning, he awakened first and simply lay there, with his wife cradled in his arms, breathing in her scent, giving thanks…and thinking about Skip Scofield.You’re going to need to help me out, pal. I don’t have as much practice being a sensitive guy as you do.
You could start by losing the sarcasm,Skip replied.
Georgie wouldn’t recognize me.
At least pick your moments.
That he could do. Georgie nestled closer, and he curled his hand over her hip.I’m finally one up on you, Skipper. There you are, stuck forever with little Scooter Brown. And here I am…He kissed his wife’s soft hair.Here I am with Georgie York.
She finally stirred, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her until she’d brushed her teeth. As she stepped naked out of the bathroom, he took in a withered rose petal clinging to her nipple and held out his hand. “Come here, wife,” he said softly. “Let’s get you pregnant.”
She shocked him by waving him off. “Later.”
He eased up against the pillows and eyed her warily as she pulled her video camera from one of the suitcases delivered to the yacht. “Chaz warned me about this,” he said.
She smiled and positioned herself at the footboard of the bed so she was facing him. The morning sun sliding through the portholes buttered her dark hair. He leaned against the pillows and watched her raise the camera.
“Start at the beginning,” she said. “Tell me everything you love about your wife.”
He could see that she was teasing him, but he wasn’t playing her game. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, cradled her foot in his hand, and did exactly as she asked.
Epilogue
IrisYork Shepard was as unhappy as a four-year-old could be. She stood in the middle of her backyard, with her arms crossed over her flat chest, her small foot tapping ominously in the grass, a scowl stretched across her adorable little lopsided face. Iris didn’t like it when the attention shifted too far from herself, and even her adoring grandparents had moved away to talk to Uncle Trev.
