Squinting, she eyes me suspiciously. “How long have you had this?”
“Just open the damn thing before I pass out again.” I blink sluggishly, determined to stay awake long enough to get through this. “I’ve had it for a while now.”
Taking a deep breath, she opens it, slipping her hand inside. When she pulls it free, the ring glimmers between her trembling fingers. I bought it when I was in South Africa.
I motion for her to give it to me. When she does, I grab her left ring finger and slip it on. It looks perfect, like it was made for her—because it was.
“I love you, Ingrid. When I get out of here, I’m going to marry you.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it, then smirk. “Actually, when I get out of here, I’m fucking you for about a week solid. Then once we’ve recovered, I’m marrying you.”
Leaning forward, she cups my face gently. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” A slow, lovely grin spreads across her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Kiss me,” I rasp. “And no. I don’t need to ask when I know you’ll say yes.”
With a roll of her eyes, she speaks the most beautiful words I’ll ever hear. “I love you, even though you’re an arrogant arse.” Then her lips take mine, way too gently, but I’ll make up for that later.
I must have passed out again. The next time I wake, I hear people mumbling, arguing as quietly as they can.
I recognize both immediately.
Not surprised. My mother doesn’t bend. Her need for control is insatiable. She storms in, a whirlwind of ambition, that fills every room she enters.
But I believe she may have met her match. My sweet little cupcake isn’t budging. She stands firm, unshakable, and the fire within her makes my love for her burn brighter.
“I’m not leaving. I don’t care what you say,” Ingrid states matter-of-factly.
“You aren’t family. You can’t be in here. And you will neverbefamily, you can’t be. You aren’t from the right bloodline,” my mother declares crossly, meaning every word, although she’s wrong.
“Shut up!” I open my mouth to shout, but the words catch in my throat. “She’s my soon-to-be wife. She stays.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” my mother scolds, reaching down to pat my cheek the way she did when I was a boy. “You’re delusional.”
“No, Mother. You’re the delusional one.” I swat her hand away. “Ingrid is my fiancée. Accept her or leave. Simple as that.”
“Calm down.” Ingrid slips in on my other side, her touch featherlight on my face, her eyes full of quiet devotion. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
I don’t slap hers away, and my mother notices. Her glare could cut glass, but she keeps her mouth shut.
“I don’t need you getting all worked up.” Ingrid’s tone is soft, but the fire in her eyes burns fiercely as she locks onto my mother. “The doctors will make us leave if you do. Is that what you want?”
I shake my head, the world swimming around me in a dizzying blur. Damn.
“Ingrid, this is my mother, the Duchess Geneva Falcon Blomquist. Mother, this is the love of my life, Ingrid Lennox. Be nice to her. One day she will give you grandchildren, maybe even a grandson if you’re lucky.”
That shuts her up. For now, at least. I know she’ll try to convince me to come back to her way of thinking. It won’t work. She’ll soon accept that, and if she doesn’t, then it will be her loss, not mine.
Ten days later,I walk—or rather roll—out of the hospital beside Ingrid. Instructed to take it easy. No strenuous activity for the next six weeks. He changed it when he realized I was a man who didn’t know what taking it easy meant. That includes sex.
Fuck that shit.
The second I’m alone with my girl, I’m stripping her naked. Burying myself so deep inside of her, she’ll wonder how she survived without me.
We’re loaded into the back of an SUV. One of my men is driving. If I’m stuck being chauffeured around like an invalid, I’ll make damn sure the ride is worth it.
Grabbing Ingrid’s hand, I tug, encouraging her to play. “Get over here.”
“No. Youwillfollow my rules, or I’ll call your mother.” She lifts her eyebrows, displaying her dominance, and damn if my cock doesn’t notice.
“I can’t fuck you with my mother hovering,” I grumble, reaching down to adjust myself.
