“Well, I was coming back outside after freshening up and they were chatting. I’m pretty sure this is proof that Talon likes him. He told Niles that his real name isLeslie.”She giggles a bit. “I can see why he went with Talon.”
“They would make an interesting couple,” I say, thinking about slender, hipster Niles and my wife’s burly bodyguard. “If they make each other happy, then it’s a good thing.”
Speaking of bodyguards… My eyes narrow as I watch Wyatt speaking into his headset. I wanted to shoot him the moment we dragged his useless hide out of the burning warehouse, but Aftonthreatened to shoot me instead. She’d insisted that he could earn his way back into being trusted. Granted, he’s worked hard and not complained about the lowly - and highly supervised - position he’s been given, but I’ll never have the faith in him that my wife seems to hold.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Edin leading Sam into the boxwood maze near the main house, which looks strikingly like Balmoral Castle and only slightly less intimidating.
“Yes, everyone seems to be getting along.” My grandmother waves at me imperiously, and I kiss Afton’s hand. “There is, however, something very serious to attend to first.”
“Oh?” Her blue eyes cloud. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course, love. We must cut the cake, something you did not get to do the last time.”
“Cake?” she squeals. “Yes! Let’s do that.”
We cut the four-tiered marzipan pistachio cake, studded with flowers from the estate’s gardens. She demurely feeds me a bite, and I lean closer. “I want to smear this cake all over you and lick it off.”
Afton makes a high, inarticulate noise.
“Shall we bring a tier of the cake with us?” I carefully bring the fork to her lips and watch her swallow the bite, licking the cream from her lips.
“Yes please,” she groans quietly. “We should go. You, me, and the cake. Right away.”
***
Stonner - Scottish slang for an erection
Chapter Forty-Four
In which there is Arm Porn, romance, and fireworks.
Afton…
The helicopter flight takes the same route as our last date on the boat, and the first glimpse of Mason’s enormous yacht gleaming like a pearl in the Atlantic is thrilling. What’s different this time is that I’m holding my husband’s hand, so happy to be with him. To be here.
When we land, Mason goes to speak to the captain and the yacht’s engines roar to life. I watch the shore recede and fade into the distance as he comes back with a look of satisfaction.
“Were we in a hurry?”
“Yes,” he says decisively. “I don’t want my idiot cousins coming up with any clever ideas to celebrate our wedding night. They never work out well.”
“I’m fine with that,” I say boldly. “I’m looking forward to being alone with you.”
The smile he gives me is positively devilish.
Chef Jacques - who I am wondering if he’s forced to live on the yacht - serves us a meal created with all his specialties. “The wind is a bit much,” he says, straightening his jacket. “So, I believe you’ll be more comfortable in the dining room, yes?” The dining room could seat twelve, but the dark grey walls and silver accents make it feel more intimate.
I’ve been too nervous to eat all day, so the pan seared diver scallops and leeks are magnificent, as is thebayaldi de legumes, the asparagus with a citrus champagne vinaigrette, and thecoq au vin.When Jacques triumphantly brings in yet another tray, I have no room left.
“Please, no more,” I beg him as he deflates a bit. “This is perfection. You are a master. An artist. But there's a wedding cake waiting for us in the stateroom!” Mason is trying to hide his laughter in his snowy white linen napkin.
“Well,” Jacques sniffs, “I did have a lovely cheese board with figs, apples, and a bowl of locally sourced honey for the finish. But I see I cannot compete with thecake.”He nearly spits out the word and now I’m hiding under my napkin, too.
He takes our plates and leaves after I praise his genius a few more times. Mason is lounging elegantly in his chair, running his finger over his lower lip. The lanterns set around the table cast a golden glow over his face, lighting up his blond hair and I am amazed all over again that this man is mine.
“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you.”
A high, inarticulate noise escapes my lips and suddenly, my mouth is dry but my pussy is wet. I’m hot and cold and the look in his jade eyes is avaricious.
