Claiming His Bought Bride

by Rachel Bailey

  “You’ll see.”

  They traveled in silence; she could think of nothing to say. She couldn’t start the conversation about finalizing things until she’d seen what he had to show her. And there was nothing else to talk about.

  Her gaze flicked to Damon and she noted the tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the wheel a little too firmly. She frowned. Why wasn’t he trying to convince her to come back? Why wasn’t he trying to touch her?

  He pulled the car to a stop and swung into a roadside parking space in an up-market section of town, where several private galleries were located. She knew the rent was through the roof in this area. Glancing up and down the street a large, simple bronze shop front caught her eye. Lily’s Place—Opening Soon.

  Damon stepped from the car and walked around to open her door.

  She swallowed, confused. “What…” But she didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Too many questions to choose one to lead with.

  “I’ll let your grandmother explain.”

  Damon opened the gallery door with his key and they walked in through the secure entranceway. The airy, white room still had boxes with packing materials spread across the floor, but several sculptures in glass cases were displayed on podiums.

  Drawn to them, she moved, barely aware her feet were in motion. She ran a finger along one glass case, her art-curator’s eye appreciating the simple beauty of the carved marble figures.

  She turned to where Damon waited, but noticed the painting on the wall beside him was a portrait of a Victorian woman, surrounded by children dressed as small adults. The one that had hung in Travis Blakely’s private gallery.

  “That painting is yours.” She forced words through a tight throat, willing reality to return.

  “It was mine. I signed it, and all the other contents of my uncle’s gallery, over to your gran a few days ago. They belong here, where people can see them. Not trapped in a dark room.”

  Damon surveyed the painting wistfully. “Hidden,” he murmured, as if to himself. “Unappreciated.”

  As he’d been? Confused again, her mind warning her not to believe, yet her heart aching to, she looked him over. Yes, there was something different about him. He’d given her a gift she actually wanted.

  The old Damon wouldn’t have even known what she wanted, nor would he have cared to find out. In his world, what he decided was best for her was always the right thing.

  But now, it was as if he’d come out into the light as well, ended the years of being trapped, first by an unscrupulous uncle, and then by his own plans of revenge.

  Becoming the man he would have been, had his parents lived…

  A door opened from the back of the gallery and Gran shuffled in. She looked radiant—more alive than Lily had seen her in years.

  “Darling,” she called to Lily.

  Lily rushed over and embraced her in a tight hug. “Gran, why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

  Gran looked over her shoulder at Damon. “Your husband asked me to keep it a secret. He wanted to surprise you.”

  Slowly Lily turned to look at Damon, then back to Gran. Wanting, wishing—not daring to believe. “So what, exactly, has he done?”

  “He set up the business side and donated his uncle’s collection. He also gave us a fund for purchasing new artwork.”

  “A fund?” Lily’s mind immediately sprang to conditions on the money Damon would have set—a lever for future manipulations. “What are the strings?”

  She felt Damon move up behind her. “No strings. I sold BlakeCorp and put the money into a fund for Lily’s Place. Your gran is the only signatory at the moment.”

  She must have heard him wrong. He’d sold BlakeCorp? It’d been his life’s ambition. “You sold it?”

  “I’d already won—taking it back from the old vulture. But it was a hollow victory.” He looked into her eyes with that unashamed pain and yearning and regret, and she knew his meaning. She knew because it was the same for her. Her success at being independent was empty without sharing it with the one she loved.

  Her hands fluttered up. “But selling it is so extreme…”

  “I didn’t want the reminder. BlakeCorp is my past. The last thing I need is a constant symbol of my mistakes. Far better it be of some use here.”

  Now the fervent promptings of her heart grew louder than the warnings of her mind. Could it be? Were this leopard’s spots changing before her eyes?

  He cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing I want to show you. Come with me.”

  Mind in a whirl, she turned to Gran, who said, “Go on, darling. At least look at what he wants to show you.”

  Lily took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. She turned back to Damon and nodded.

  He turned for the door and she followed, waving a quick goodbye to Gran with a promise to be back soon.

  Damon tucked her into the car and pulled out onto the road. Again, they were quiet on the trip, Lily too bewildered to form coherent thoughts or questions, and Damon once more holding the wheel with white knuckles, the muscles of his neck corded.

  As they turned into the street of the old Blakely mansion, she spoke tightly. “I’ve seen your house before, Damon.”

  “Bear with me a little longer.” He turned into the circular drive and she noticed something odd. The front lawn was covered in new garden beds—all filled with spring blossoms. There were daffodils, roses and daisies, and one large bed in the middle was filled with lilies. Day lilies, peace lilies, climbing lilies and African lilies.

  She caught her breath. From death to life…“How…how did you do this so quickly?”

  “You just have to know who to ask.” Still grim, he turned off the ignition and came around to her door. “Come in. Please.”

  She stepped out and took his hand, unrelenting surprise not allowing her to think clearly. Her gaze swept the front of the mansion, which she’d once thought so imposing. It now had a veranda added to the top story, softening the edges of its profile.

  Damon led her to the door where Thomas waited, a look of relief spreading across his face. “You found her!”

  Thomas reached forward and, for the second time since she’d met him, hugged her. “Welcome home, Mrs. Blakely. The place hasn’t been the same since you left.” He stepped back, face beaming with delight. “And now it will never be the same again!”

  Lily opened her mouth to stop his train of thought from where it was going, but Damon had shrugged out of his coat, rolled up his sleeves and headed down the hall. She managed a quick wiggle of her fingers to the cheerful Thomas before they turned the corner and she lost sight of him and the door.

  Damon opened the first door on the left, the formal dining room. But it wasn’t formal anymore, it was full of life and informality and…love. And it looked eerily similar to the design she’d sketched for this room.

  “How did you know?”

  “I found your sketches after you left.”

  She walked in, touching the back of a wooden chair with a bright lemon cushion, running her fingers along the edge of the slab wood table. “Why?”

  He gripped the back of a chair and gazed out the window for a moment before meeting her eyes. “When I found your sketches, I saw the house through your eyes. I saw its potential instead of its past. It was time for me to let go.”

  She thought she knew what he meant, but needed to hear it from him. “Let go?”

  He walked to the window, leaning against the frame as he answered, speaking slowly. “Travis was a sadistic brute. But I’ve been giving him power by holding on to my anger. By transforming this house to your vision, I’ve reclaimed a part of myself.” He pushed off the wall to stand straight and tall. “I won’t let him own me.”

  Joy for him, for his liberty, spread from her heart to her toes and fingertips. “When? How?”

  “It was you, Lily.” His voice was rough, his gaze intense. “You’ve changed me.”

  Tears filled her eyes a
nd she took a step toward him, but he forestalled her.

  “Let’s keep going.”

  He took her to room after room, each transformed according to her vision. She couldn’t help it—the tears streamed silently down her cheeks now.

  The last room was the nursery. “How did you get it done so soon?”

  “I called in five teams of interior decorators. Thomas oversaw them and John oversaw the gardening team.” He spread his hands. “There’s still a lot more to do—the south wing hasn’t been touched yet—but at least it’s a home now, Lily. A home for you and the baby. You’ve created this.”

  She picked up a cuddly teddy and held it to her chest before replacing it in the crib. “No, you created it. I just had the ideas.”

  “Let’s say we created it. It only needs you and our baby here. And me.” Finally, at last, he touched her, his hands capturing hers, his eyes dark and pleading. “I love you, Lily. I need you. I’ve confronted the ghosts that had been haunting me, thanks to you. You gave me the template to transform myself as surely as you gave me one for the house.”

  She sniffed and blinked, wanting to brush the tears aside, but to do so would mean letting go of his hands, and she wasn’t letting him go again. Ever. “Damon, I’m so proud of you,” she whispered through a ball of aching joy in her throat.

  “Wait, there’s one more room I want to show you.” Still grabbing tight hold of her hand, he set off for the rear of the house, almost at a run. She laughed as she rushed to keep up.

  He pushed through the double doors of the mansion’s private gallery, but inside it was empty.

  “Everything has gone to Gran’s gallery,” she said.

  Damon dug his hands deep into his pockets and met her gaze. “I always had an interest in art as a child. It started when this gallery was a place of refuge from my aunt and uncle. I read books about art, learned on my own.”

  “So that’s why you knew about Monet’s cathedrals.”

  “Yes.”

  “But what happened? Why didn’t you follow up on your interest?”

  He cleared his throat. “Travis found me here hiding one day.” His hand absentmindedly ran over a scar on his left arm.

  Oh, God. Her heart bled as if pierced with a dagger. She’d thought it was a sporting injury. She gently brushed the scar with her fingers, as if to soothe the damage. “He did that to you?”

  She’d known life must have been horrible for Damon as a young boy but she’d never truly faced how grim things were until seeing and understanding the full force of this evidence now.

  Damon looked at the mark, seemingly surprised at the information he’d given away. “Yes.” He shrugged.

  She leaned down and gently kissed his scarred forearm, then wrapped both hands around it. “I’m glad he’s gone, or I’d kill him myself.”

  He searched her eyes, then a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “Afterward—” his voice was hoarse as he threaded his fingers through hers “—even this room was tainted. I gave up my interest in art, but you allowed me to reclaim that, as well.”

  All thoughts of Travis instantly gone, joy bubbled up and overflowed. Damon may have given her gifts today, but more, he’d shown that she’d given him something priceless. No longer did she feel useless, a decoration in his life…or unloved. “Damon.”

  He swallowed. “You know your gran has dreams of employing you to run the gallery. Be the curator. You could select staff, take the baby to work with you. Choose your own hours. Or help her find a curator if you’d rather stay at home and be a full-time mother.” He shrugged. “I could even help look after the baby. I’d like that—if you want.”

  The options opening before her were wonderful. Miraculous. And she melted just a little more inside at his hopes of helping with their baby. “I can’t think of a single person who’d be better with our baby. But one more thing. Tell me you didn’t really sell BlakeCorp. It meant more to you than anything.”

  He turned to her, his eyes fierce. “You mean more to me than anything. You and our child. I didn’t want any question of that. I still have my own company and I’ll still probably work long hours, but I swear to you, Lily, I’ll always put you first. You’ll be my number one priority…if you’ll have me.”

  She bit her lip and took a small step closer to his heat and essence and solidity. “You truly sold BlakeCorp…for me?”

  He leaned in that last inch and encircled her in his arms. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.” His voice rasped with raw emotion. “Tell me I got this right, Lily. Tell me I’ve given you what you want most. If I didn’t, just ask me for it and I’ll give it to you.”

  “You just did. All I ever wanted was you, all of you.” She hugged him tight, overcome by the emotion. “I love you, Damon. More than I thought I could bear. I’ve been in my own private hell loving you so much but not being able to be with you. You’re all I want—you, me and our baby. Our family.”

  He pulled back, and his whole face broke out in the kind of smile she’d never seen from him before—just simple happiness, no shadows of the past haunting him at last. “There’s nothing I want more than that, either. To live with you and our child in our home. Except…”

  Her heart skipped a full beat. “Except?”

  “Except maybe to live in our home with you, our baby and our next baby.”

  She grinned, and threw herself into his arms, holding him tight. “Oh, yes, that’s a vision of the future I can support.”

  He lifted her chin for his kiss and she sighed, not needing a single thing more than what was in the room with her at that moment.

  Epilogue

  L ily finished wrapping the oil painting she’d just sold and looked up to check on Pearl. In her favorite pink “gall’ry” dress—floor length, with a full “twirling skirt”—her three-year-old daughter was dancing across the room, showing an elderly couple around Lily’s Place.

  A laugh of pure love escaped. She could barely believe her life, and her child’s, was so perfect. Five years ago, she never would have dared to dream so big.

  “She’s sweet. Is she yours?” The businessman in front of the counter smiled and took the wrapped package.

  “Yes, she is.” Lily beamed at her customer as she returned his credit card with his receipt. “Enjoy your painting.”

  Maree, the full-time saleswoman, was talking to a middle-aged woman, and four other people browsed quietly through the permanent display section in the next room, so Lily sneaked over to eavesdrop on her youngest saleswoman in action.

  The elderly man was looking at the landscape Pearl pointed to, and the woman leaned down to ask Pearl, “Why do you like it so much?”

  Without missing a beat, her eyes wide with the importance of the conversation, Pearl replied, “It’s got nice purple at a-top.”

  Both customers lifted their gazes to the top of the painting. The man nodded. “She’s right. That pale lavender in the distance balances the painting’s depth and palette perfectly.”

  Lily’s heart swelled with pride. She supposed it was hardly surprising Pearl picked up knowledge about art after the amount of time she’d spent in the gallery since her birth, but she seemed to have an incredible affinity with colors and composition for a three-year-old.

  A whoosh to her left caught Lily’s attention as the front door slid open and Damon strode in, gorgeous in a charcoal business suit, pushing a baby buggy. Lily’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him and their baby. A love for her husband swelled up, so big it felt as if it overflowed her heart, spilling into the air around her.

  “Daddee!” Pearl ran across the tiled floor and launched herself at Damon, who caught her in an effortless move and swung her into the air.

  Lily’s face broke into a smile. She loved her work in the gallery two afternoons a week, but her favorite time of the day was when Damon dropped in with baby Michael to pick them up, and she had her husband and two beautiful children in one place. Damon had been so supportive—delegatin
g work and taking one afternoon off to allow Lily this time in the gallery. The other afternoon, today, Gran had Michael, and Damon collected him on the way home.

  Damon sidestepped the buggy, still with Pearl in one arm, and reached for Lily. “Sweetheart,” he murmured before kissing her lips slowly and tenderly.

  Lily melted as the familiar rush of desire almost made her knees buckle. His effect on her had only deepened over the years—she could still barely stand to see him and not touch him, even if just holding his hand. She wound an arm around his neck and held him closer.

  “I missed you,” he said against her lips.

  “And me?” Pearl chirped. “Did you miss me?”

  Damon’s smile for their daughter made Lily’s heart sing. “And you, munchkin. So much that Michael and I had to come and get you.”

  “Yay!” Pearl hugged her dad tighter as Damon released Lily to push the buggy through the gallery and into the staff area out the back.

  He checked on Michael, who was sleeping soundly, then deposited Pearl back on the ground. “And to give you some news.”

  Lily glanced at her darling eight-month-old, her fingers twitching to pick him up, but hating to disturb his sleep.

  “News?” Pearl asked, voice excited.

  Damon nodded. “Gran is coming over to spend the night with you and Michael.”

  Lily smiled and her skin tingled with anticipation. Another of Damon’s impromptu nights out. She could never guess when the next one was coming or where they’d be.

  “In fact, Gran is at our house now.” He turned from Pearl to Lily, and dropped his voice. “So we just need to change and then we’re going out.”

  Gran’s health had improved so much, probably from a lack of stress as much as anything. But still, it was reassuring to know that Thomas and Melissa—who now worked together in running the household—would be around to do any work, leaving Gran to have fun with Pearl and Michael.

  “So what should I wear? Where are we going?”

  He grinned, used to her fishing for their destination. “Dress up…but make sure it comes off easily.” His gaze turned to smoldering as he raked it up and down her body.