Edward blinks at me, as though this never occurred to him. What is he, an adolescent? Dr. Flynn indicated as much. This must be what he meant. It's a lot to process.
"The ivory tower," he murmurs.
"What?"
His lips twitch, a smile threatening to overwhelm his confused expression. "You used to chide me often enough that I'd locked us away in Escala, largely out of the public view. It suited us most of the time, and myself all of the time... I didn't desire anything different. You called the place my ivory tower, insisting that I hid there purposely, in an effort to avoid real life."
"I did?"
He nods. The smile breaks through, and he glances up, as though he's thanking the heavens. "You always were the best medicine." His eyes return to mine, his knotted fingers loosening and he picks up my hand. "We'll do whatever you want, baby. I'd rather you work from home though, please. We'll get out more. I'm letting my fears get the better of me again. It's something I've worked very hard to overcome these past few years." He swallows, his eyes boring into mine. "You have no idea, how hard it is to give up control. But I'll do it, for you. So long as you're safe about it."
Oh, I think I'm getting the picture. I sigh and decide to change the subject. I open my arms, and after only a moment's hesitation, he crawls under the covers again, snuggling up next to me. I run my fingers up and down his arm. "So tell me about where we're going. What will we do there for a week?"
He sighs, pressing a feather-light kiss to my temple. "Just be together. Talk about things; get to know each other again. Relax."
I smile. "That sounds nice."
"Nice?" There's a teasing edge to the word.
"What's wrong with nice?"
He laughs. "I ought to teach you the real meaning of the word. Again."
I wonder what he means, but I sense it will be another long story, and I'm rather tired. "Mr. King, you sure are a man of many moods today." I try, and fail, to stifle a yawn.
"Guilty as charged. Now sleep."
~oOo~
"I can't believe you've never been on a roller coaster," I say, incredulous. Edward gapes at me as though he's deciding whether to laugh or retort, and in the end it's the former. He's been in such high spirits these last four days, gazing at me as though it's our honeymoon, and maybe it is, a little.
For me, it's so much more, holding hands as we meander through hundred-year-old towns, past weathered, smiling faces, endless clay pots bearing leafy, red flowers, and stopping to watch friendly stray kittens play, though Edward discourages me from petting them. In this place, each wine has a story, every street a colorful history. Kate could write a book from what I've absorbed this week alone, and Jose's photographic perspective would keep his gallery in business for years. I don't mention these musings to Edward; this experience is just for us, for him and for me.
We eat, quite a lot actually. Food is the culture here, and I've never seen Edward more relaxed. I wonder if it was part of the reason he chose Sicily, but whatever the reason, this corner of the world is truly amazing.
"Why is that so hard to believe?" he teases. "It's never been something I aspired to. Have you?"
"Of course." I try to ignore his slightly uneasy expression. "But you must have been to a county fair," I continue.
"Nope. I had rather fine-tuned interests in my youth." He traces the tablecloth with his index finger, and it's distracting. I wonder offhand if he's doing that on purpose.
"Okay," I try to change the subject. "Like what?"
He takes a calming, deep breath. "I enjoyed playing the piano, reading, and staying active, mostly."
I nod. "You're not giving much away."
He sighs. "I wasn't in the best place as a child. Emotionally, anyway. I had the greatest family any adoptee could ask for, but it's hard to be part of a perfect family when you're not perfect." He's wistful for a moment, and then smiles bashfully. "I'd rather not talk about my childhood, if that's all right."
"Okay." I can give him that. "What should we talk about, then?"
We instead launch into a discussion of his recent business ventures, of his various efforts to improve life in struggling countries. He's so passionately illustrative; I knew he was bright from the beginning but this... It's a whole new level of brilliance I've never seen from him. I'm enraptured. I wonder at times whether he's told me these things before, but I don't feel for a second that he's humoring me; he's far too excited.
The hotel he's chosen is a rugged little bed and breakfast tucked away on a side street, but the balcony of our suite overlooks the coastline. It's breathtaking. Security is relaxed; Sawyer and a local guy named Antonio follow discreetly behind as we weave through ornate, historical structures and local shops. We've already purchased, at Edward's insistence, several items to take back as gifts. They're more extravagant than I'm used to, even now, living this high society lifestyle, but Edward seems to think they're appropriate, so I go with it.
Today, he's brought his camera. It's a very technical thing, black with lots of buttons and knobs and I'm sure a setting for every light level and scene, and I've caught him again and again, snapping a picture of me when I wander away, distracted by something antique or intricate, and smiles bashfully when I catch on, his long lashes brushing slightly blushed cheeks. The man is adorable.
We snack on little fried squids, a popular item here in Messina, and they're surprisingly good, not slimy as I'd expected. Other tourists, and it's not hard to spot them, also seem taken with this local delicacy. I wonder just how touristy Edward and I look, but as the locals seem to celebrate its visitors, I banish the musing immediately.
"You look beautiful today," he whispers to me out of the blue, draping his arm around my shoulders. I don't feel exceptionally pretty today but I smile up at him, leaning into his hold and tentatively curling my arm about his waist, and he grins back. He likes this. Suddenly he glances up and his expression falls.
"Shit, Krissy!" he exclaims, yanking me aside and I stumble, twisting and lurching over the clay brick sidewalk.
He pulls me tightly to his chest, righting me, and a get a faint whiff of clean linen and soap.
I blink, and his gaze turns to blazing bewilderment. I don't know what's just happened, but his expression has me mesmerized... wait, where are we? Peripherally, the building immediately over his shoulder is no longer whitewashed stucco, but cold, gray concrete, and the sun is no longer shining. Crap... my stomach flips.
It's happening again.
I absorb what details I can but seemingly suspended in time and at such close range, there isn't much else to see. I hear traffic though, and his scent... it's positively intoxicating.
And then he's above me, his mouth moving, and my ears begrudgingly return to function, like the volume slowly being turned up.
"Krissy? Talk to me, love, please," he implores, his voice bearing an edge of anxious fright. Over his shoulder, I see Sawyer keeping the concerned onlookers away.
"Baby, please."
"I'm okay," I gasp. "I knew it was happening." I test my somewhat fuzzy brain, less muddled than before, and realize I'm not quite as tired as I've become accustomed after an episode. Edward lifts me in his arms and carries me to a waiting car. He slides in beside me. I note that Antonio is at the wheel. How did he get the car so fast? And how long was I out?
Edward's arm is curled protectively around me, his other hand at my cheek, turning my face toward his. "Your eyes look all right," he notes. "How are you feeling?"
My eyes? Oh... his mom must have told him what to look for, I venture to guess. "Less tired. You were holding onto me on a city street, that's what I saw," I tell him. "What really happened?"
"A vendor's cart swerved, nearly knocked you down. When I pulled you back... that's when it began."
"How long this time?"
"Barely twenty seconds. The shortest yet, I think."
"Wow." Am I getting better, perhaps, or at least adapting to what's happening? Maybe they'll get so short that
I won't even pass out anymore. That would be far more convenient and less embarrassing. "Do you have any idea what I saw?"
He looks out the window for a second. "You once tripped and nearly fell into the road in Portland, after we first met. That might have been it; I pulled you back that time as well."
"Oh," I sigh. "Thanks. For both times."
He chuckles. "Anytime, baby." Some of his humor has returned I think, though his eyes still appear pained.
Edward insists on carrying me up to our room, setting me upon a cushioned lounge chair on our balcony. It's still quite warm in the late afternoon, and the sea breeze feels nice. I close my eyes, allowing time to process the experience, and a cold glass is pushed into my hand.
"Drink this."
I don't think chilled juice is going to stop the flashbacks, but it seems to make Edward feel better, or at least, like he's taking proper care of me. I down the beverage in a few gulps and pat the edge of the cushion, and he sits down beside me, taking the empty glass and picking up my hand. "Feel all right, love?"
"Fine. I promise." Jeez, how he worries.
He nods, offering a gentle smile, but then his expression falters, and behind his eyes I see raw anxiety, his breaths shorten and he starts to shake. He turns his face away.
"What is it?" I worry that I've done something. He was a model of composure less than a minute ago. I palm his cheek and turn his face back toward me. "Talk to me, Edward, please."
He draws a shuddered breath. "It frightens me to death when I can't wake you." His voice cracks, his face crinkles and he forcefully stifles a sob. Oh, sweet Edward, these bouts of unresponsiveness have traumatized him into one of his polar mood swings. My heart breaks for him. I pull him down to me, holding him as best I can, and he cries quietly in my arms. He needs this, this outlet for his pent up emotions, and while it's unnerving to see such a strong soul in a rare moment of weakness, I don't mind. I stroke his soft hair and whisper what reassurance I can.
He quiets after only a moment, thumbing the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry. That rarely happens."
"Don't you dare apologize," I tell him. "I have to remind myself how hard this must be on you. I wish I could grasp just how hard."
"I'm all right, baby. That took me by surprise. Things often do, where you're concerned." He offers me a small, brave smile. There are so many shades of his personality. Shades, hmm… it feels a familiar concept. "Are you hungry?" he interrupts my train of thought.
"Sure," I concede. I'm not really, but he might cheer up if he sees me eat; he does endeavor to feed the world… might as well start with his broken wife.
~oOo~
"I want to take you somewhere special today," Edward announces softly, almost bashfully. I've just taken in a mouthful of soft-cooked eggs and toast, and have to consciously chew and swallow before I'm able to respond. The time it takes gives me the opportunity to work up something equally subdued.
"You'll have to be more specific, Mr. King. Everywhere we've been this week has been special." I look up at him from beneath long lashes. His almost inaudible intake of breath isn't lost on me.
"It's a surprise."
Oh! "Do I generally like your surprises?" The words are out before I can stop them. I don't think I've ever been this feisty. What's wrong with me? Whatever it is, it has my husband hooked. My husband. God, that word is laced with exciting possibilities.
"As a matter of fact, you do." He smiles... seductively?... and we've not even finished breakfast. His expression slides into one of deep consideration, and he rubs his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip. It's quite distracting.
It suddenly dawns on me that he could be undressing me with his eyes, and I him, but he has the advantage of knowing what's under there. How did we get here exactly? Oh, right... surprises.
"So... what does this surprise entail?" I bat my lashes, and feel absurd. I've never seduced anyone before, at least not in my broken line of memory, and I feel rather stupid doing it now.
"We'll, Mrs. King, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, now would it?" His eyes have darkened. He could be a predator under the disguise of the world's most beautiful late-twentysomething. Hmm, that brings a good question to mind.
"How old are you?"
He laughs. "That's quite a change of subject." He stops when he sees my lost expression, and his smile turns to one of apologetic amusement. "Thirty one."
"And I'm..."
"Twenty four."
"I know, I was just doing the math, jeez."
A hint of concern was his over him. "You're in quite a mood this morning, baby. Anything I can do?" He reaches across the table and takes my hand, running his thumb over my fingers.
I wonder idly if it bothers him that I haven't worn the rings, as he grazes my ring finger. I really had given the idea serious thought. It needs to feel right, and perhaps one day it will; it just doesn't yet. I swallow, shaking my head. "Sorry. Just another random tangent."
He nods sympathetically. "We'll go once you've finished, all right?"
The car winds over gravel roads, up hills and along small, mostly-dry streambeds dotted with those opportunistic red flowers, I think they're the same ones I'd seen all over the towns. Edward has opted for shorts today, and I think it's the first time I've seen just how lean and sculpted his legs are. And his feet… oh my. His sandals are the rugged kind, showing the light dusting of hair on each toe. I've never been vain, quite the opposite... but there's something to be said for the science of attraction. He looks ready to go traipsing across the countryside, but as he's approved my similar, more feminine sandals and choice of white cotton eyelet skirt, I doubt we're set to stray far from the road. I pause to rethink after we get out of the car, and he straps on a green backpack.
"Are we hiking?" I ask, more than a little uncomfortable with the idea, my subconscious reminding me of the statistical probability of falls and injuries where I'm concerned.
"Just a bit of trail walking. I'm fairly certain you can handle it," he smirks, holding out his hand and I take it, trusting him, but doubting myself. He has his work cut out for him. If I walk away from this without at least a few scrapes, it'll be a blasted miracle. I hope he knows what he's in for.
It's a worn, hard-pack dirt trail, probably one frequented by tourists, but hardly what one would consider 'touristy.' The surrounding foliage is hardy and green, with the increasingly familiar red-flowered bushes poking out here and there. The trail widens and the first line to the left opens on a stone wall, and in the distance I see a valley populated by a smattering of rustic, clay roofed buildings, and further out, the Tyrrhenian Sea. It's breathtaking. We pass the occasional cypress, the only flora I can identify by name, and I'm reminded of the comment made by Diane Lane's friend in Under the Tuscan Sun. It makes me smile.
Edward is mostly quiet, taking everything in, I suppose, pointing things out to me once in a while and answering my silly questions. He's very knowledgeable. I wonder to myself if there's anything he doesn't know or can't do; he seems a wealth of talent and information, and again, I'm feeling inadequate.
"All right," he sighs, exasperated, "what's the face for?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't give me 'hmm,' Krissy. Out with it. What's bothering you?"
"Me?" I scoff. "I could ask you the same."
He sniffs. "I don't know what you mean." He drags off the backpack and pulls the zipper with distracted fingers. He digs for a moment, retrieving an aluminum water bottle and hands it to me. "Drink," he instructs.
We've not been walking a half hour, but I comply. I see Sawyer lurking about thirty meters behind, toting his own pack, and eyeing every direction suspiciously, but with subtlety. Until now I thought we'd been alone. I suppose Edward's paranoia knows no bounds, we're half a world away from home, for heaven's sake.
I finish drinking and hand the bottle back, and he takes his turn. While he rummages in his pack, I walk over to the stone wall and lean on it, taking in the view.
> "Krissy," he breathes.
I look back at him over my shoulder, but he's already behind me, snaking his arms around my waist, pulling me back a bit.
"I don't like you this close to the edge without me. Your record is rather colorful when it comes to accidents." His lips are at my neck. I've worried him again it seems, and he's covering his anxiety with gentleness. It's so much better than the usual tone of admonishment; he really is trying.
"I didn't mean to worry you," I say.
"You never mean to, baby." He kisses the top of my head. "But regardless, you do worry me, often."
I sigh. "Maybe it's just you, worrying. I don't think I would have spontaneously hurled myself over the wall."
Edward laughs softy. "Perhaps not. But with you, I'd rather not risk it." He's quiet for a moment, rocking me from side to side. I feel him smile in my hair. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It is," I agree. "Thank you for this, Edward."
"Anything for you, Krissy."
I lean back into his hold, and he tightens his arms around me. "You really mean that, don't you?"
"I do." He sighs into my hair, and then loosens his hold, maneuvering himself between me and the wall. At first I think it's out of concern for my safety, but then I see... his eyes are blazing.
"It means so much that you're here with me, Krissy," he breathes. He looks down, bashfully, and a smile touches his lips. When he raises his eyes to mine again, they're warm and wanting. "I spent a long time last night lying awake, pondering the best way to ask you something," he begins. "I'm really nervous, which doesn't help. I want to deserve you again. I dare to dream of our future beyond the immediate; I want to give you everything your heart desires..." he scoffs, "and I can't believe the number of times each day I use the word 'I'." He sighs. "Krissy, I hope you have at least a sliver of an idea how deeply I feel for you. You deserve everything you want to have and do, and it's my hope that you'll allow me to give you those things, or at the very least, be there for you on your journey. I promise to spend every day, every hour, helping you to fulfill your dreams, no matter what they are or how they evolve, and to support you, wholeheartedly, to hold you dear in my heart, to cherish and protect you, if you'll have me."
The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel Page 30