Not Flynn’s, though. He hadn’t even glanced in her direction.
‘Thea and Zeke’s wasn’t a conventional wedding, by all accounts, but, since nothing else about their relationship was conventional either, it seems only right that it happened this way.’ Flynn looked out over the crowd as he spoke, as if he was meeting every person’s gaze individually. ‘There’s no point pretending you don’t already know the story. Thea and I were, only last month, intending to marry each other—until Zeke drove back into our lives and reminded us all of something important. The power love has to override all plans, make a mockery of any schedule and lead us to places we never thought we’d want to go.’
Helena’s heart clenched at his words, so similar to the speech he’d made on their wedding day. The tightness in her chest only grew when Flynn turned to gaze directly at her as he spoke again.
‘Since my own marriage, I seem to have learnt a lot about love, and about life. Far more than I ever knew before. And that is entirely down to my beautiful wife, Helena.’ He motioned towards her and Helena blushed at the ‘ahh’s from the crowd.
What was he doing? Keeping up the charade? Making it impossible for her to walk away? Or was it just possible that this was something else? Something more?
Helena held her breath and allowed herself a moment to hope.
‘In fact, I needed so much education that my wife wrote me a memo, to help me make sense of it all.’ The crowd laughed as, from a side table nearby, Flynn picked up a stack of paper and held it up. Helena’s eyes widened. Her manifesto!
She’d poured every hope and dream she had into that pile of paper. Every small detail and moment that would make her future happy. And Flynn had read it, and carried it with him tonight. Did that mean...did he want them to have another chance?
‘I won’t read this aloud, although I think every married couple should have a copy. In fact, I have a photocopy here for you, Zeke!’ More laughter, and Helena grasped at her skirt with clammy hands. She wanted this over. She wanted to know what this was, what he was doing. She wanted to understand.
‘But I did want to quote just a couple of lines.’ He flicked through the pages to a sheet towards the end, and Helena held her breath. ‘Helena wrote: “Love is about more than where it can take you or what it can provide—a marriage, a home, a family, status or money. Love is about experiencing any or all of those things with the one person who makes them worthwhile. Who makes life meaningful.”’
Flynn lowered the paper and gazed out over the crowd at her again, and the hope that had budded tightly in Helena’s heart began to blossom.
‘Helena is the only person who could ever and will ever bring that meaning into my life, whatever our future brings. And I feel so incredibly lucky to have realised that, at last.’
He looked away, smiling out at his audience again, but Helena didn’t mind. Those were the words she hadn’t even known she needed to hear.
‘Life doesn’t follow a plan, any more than love does,’ Flynn went on. ‘Sometimes the best things in life just happen—and so do the worst things. What makes it harder is that sometimes you can’t even tell which is which. But life doesn’t go backwards, and neither does love. You can’t switch love off or pretend it never happened. All you can do is love and live in the now, and look to the future with amazement and joy. And that, my friends, is what I wish for my brother and his wife, and for my mother and Thomas. And, most of all, for Helena and me.’
He stepped down to wild applause, but he didn’t seem to hear it. Instead, he walked straight to Helena, took her hand and placed something in it, folding her fingers over it before she could see. But she knew from the shape, the feel of it, exactly what Flynn had given her.
And she smiled and let him take her other hand and lead her outside.
* * *
Flynn’s heart beat double time as he walked Helena out to the outdoor seating area behind the house. There was a slight drizzle in the air, which he’d normally hate, but tonight it just meant that they were able to be alone.
‘My manifesto,’ Helena said. ‘You know that was just a sort of joke, really.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Flynn said, and tried not to focus on how long it had been since he’d seen her, and how much he had hurt her. ‘It told me everything you felt and wanted. It let me know you, see you clearer than I ever had. That and finally hearing the full story about what happened to you.’
She looked away and Flynn reached out to rest his palm against her cheek, to keep her eyes on him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me in Tuscany?’
‘Because it wouldn’t have made any difference,’ Helena said, and her mouth twisted up into an almost smile. ‘Everything you said was still true.’
‘No,’ Flynn said, as firmly as he could. He had to make her believe this. ‘I judged you as the person I thought you were, without even thinking about you as the woman I’d fallen in love with. I...before I read what you’d written, I was angry with myself for falling in love with you. For loving someone who had done something I considered unforgivable. But now...now I feel I know you better. And I know, even if you don’t, that the woman who wrote this doesn’t have it in her not to love. You think you wouldn’t have loved that child? You’re wrong.’
‘In which case, I still did the wrong thing by giving her away.’ Helena pulled away. ‘So nothing changes.’
‘I changed,’ Flynn said quietly. ‘You changed me. I thought...I thought I had to follow a plan, my rules, my schedule. That anything outside of them was wrong. By my rules, what you did was wrong, yes. But you don’t live by my rules—or anyone else’s. You made the decision you had to make at the time, with the best information you had. And that decision had a big part in shaping who you are today, in making you the woman I love.’
‘So...you’re saying you forgive me?’ Helena chewed on her lower lip as she looked up at him with those big bluebell eyes.
‘I’m saying that you don’t need my forgiveness. You need to forgive yourself.’
* * *
She couldn’t stop the tears, didn’t even want to. And, as Flynn pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, she knew she’d come home again, at last.
‘Do you forgive me?’ Flynn asked against her hair. ‘The things I said...they were unforgivable, I know. But do you think...?’
‘Yes,’ Helena said. ‘I forgive you.’ But if forgiveness was the start for them, she knew it wouldn’t be everything. They had a long way to go yet.
‘But, Flynn,’ she said, leaning back to see his face, ‘I can’t just forget—any of it. You, or what happened to me. That’s going to take time.’
‘I have all the time in the world for you.’ Flynn set his cheek against her hair and Helena sighed. It felt right. She wanted it to be right. And yet...
‘I can’t promise you anything,’ she said. ‘Well, nothing beyond the fact that I’m apparently always going to love you. Can’t seem to shake that one.’
‘Good.’
‘But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to have children.’ It hurt to say the words, hurt to think it. She’d been happy, imagining her life without kids, until she’d married Flynn. Now, it stung—not just because she couldn’t give him what she knew he wanted, but because for the first time she wondered if she might want it too.
Flynn loosened his arms from around her waist and took her hands in his instead, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of the fingers, still wrapped around the object he’d placed in her palm.
‘I promise you this,’ he said, his expression solemn. ‘There is no schedule for our life together, no plan. Not any more. If it happens one day that you turn to me and tell me you’re ready to try for a baby, I’ll be the happiest man on earth. And if it doesn’t?’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll still be the happiest man on earth because I’ll be married to you.’
; Slowly, he dropped to his knees and Helena bit back a sob. Could he really be giving her everything she’d ever wanted? And could she forgive herself enough to accept?
Peeling back her fingers, he took her engagement ring from her hand and placed it at the tip of her ring finger. ‘Helena Juliette Ashton. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?’
Through her tears, Helena giggled. ‘Isn’t this where we came in?’ she asked as he slid the ring home.
‘It’s the only place I want to be,’ Flynn said, and tugged her down for a kiss.
EPILOGUE
THE TUSCAN SUN shone down as bright as ever, and Helena pulled the brim of her straw hat down to shade her eyes as she watched her niece and nephew chase each other through the grapevines, racing after their new friend Casper.
It had been five years since she and Flynn had first visited Gia’s vineyard, but Helena still felt exactly the same sense of home as she had the first time.
Up ahead, Thea and Zeke quizzed Gia about her growing methods, about how the wine was made, and Gia answered patiently the questions she must have been asked a thousand times before.
Helena tuned them out and focused instead on the warm sun on her shoulders, the buzz of summer insects in the air, and her husband’s hand in her own.
‘This is a wonderful place for a family, don’t you think?’ she asked, and Flynn murmured his agreement.
‘I’m so glad we got to bring Thea and the kids here,’ she went on. ‘It’s good to share this place with them.’
‘It’s been a great holiday,’ Flynn agreed, but Helena knew he was barely listening—too languid and lazy in the sun.
‘Maybe we’ll come back again next year with our own child,’ she said as casually as she could.
Flynn stopped walking and Helena grinned, ducking her head so he couldn’t see.
‘Helena. Are you saying...? Do you think you might be ready to maybe...?’ It wasn’t often Flynn fell over his words. It was kind of nice to hear.
She beamed up at him, loving the amazed wonder on his face. ‘I’m saying it’s a little late for that conversation.’
His eyes widened further. ‘You mean you’re already...? And you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?’
‘I’m fine,’ Helena assured him, taking his hand and placing it on her still flat stomach. ‘We’re fine.’
‘We said we’d talk about this if you ever changed your mind. I don’t want you to feel—’
‘All I feel is happy—’ Helena interrupted ‘—happy and grateful and loved.’
Flynn let out a long breath. ‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She grinned. ‘And you did say you wanted to be more spontaneous.’
‘I couldn’t have planned this any better,’ Flynn said, and kissed her.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE HEIR’S UNEXPECTED RETURN by Jackie Braun.
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CHAPTER ONE
FAT THUNDERCLOUDS ROLLED overhead and spat rain like machine gun fire as wave after wave battered Hadley Island’s sandy beachfront. As it was on one of the barrier islands off the South Carolina coast, the sixteen-mile-long stretch of pristine shoreline was used to the abuse. Mother Nature’s fury, however, was no match for the emotions roiling inside Brigit Wright.
Unmindful of the worsening storm, she continued to walk. In the pocket of the yellow rain slicker she wore, she fisted her hand around the already-crumpled piece of paper. Printing out the email hadn’t changed its content.
Miss Wright, I will be arriving home the day after tomorrow for an extended stay. Please have my quarters on the main floor ready.
—KF
Two curt sentences that still had her blood boiling.
Kellen Faust, heir to the Faust fortune, was returning—coming “home” as he’d put it—to continue his recuperation after the skiing accident he’d suffered four months earlier in the Swiss Alps.
If the news reports she’d read about his fall were even remotely accurate, then Brigit supposed she should feel sorry for him. Along with a concussion, dislocated shoulder and broken wrist, he’d snapped his ankle, mangled his knee and shattered the femur in his right leg. Four months out and the man was still in the midst of a long and very painful recovery. Even so, she didn’t want him here while he did his mending, potentially meddling in the day-to-day minutia of running the exclusive Faust Haven resort. Brigit preferred to work without interference.
Kellen’s family had a large home outside Charleston, as well as an assortment of plush real estate holdings sprinkled around Europe. Why hadn’t he picked one of those places to do his recuperating? Surely they would be more accommodating to Kellen’s large entourage and the other assorted sycophants who enabled his Peter Pan–like existence.
Why choose Faust Haven? This wasn’t his home. It was hers, dammit! Just as Faust Haven was her resort, the name on the deed notwithstanding. While he’d spent the past five years hotfooting around Europe, living off what had to be a sizable trust fund and enjoying the life of the idle rich, Brigit had been hard at work turning a tired and nearly forgotten old-money retreat into a fashionable, five-star accommodation that offered excellent service and amenities and, above all else, discretion, in addition to its panoramic views. As such it was booked solid not only for the current calendar year, but for the next three. Brigit had made that happen. And she’d done so without Kellen’s help.
Now the heir was returning and he wanted his quarters readied. His quarters? During the time she’d managed the resort, Kellen had never set foot on the island. It was Brigit’s understanding that he hadn’t visited the island since he was a boy. So she’d made the owner’s private apartment on the main floor her own, and had turned the manager’s rooms into a luxury suite that commanded a handsome sum.
Where was she going to sleep now? She might go to bed after most of the guests were tucked in for the night and rise long before they awoke, but that didn’t mean she wanted to bunk on one of the overstuffed couches in the lobby or the big leather recliner in the library, no matter how comfy she found it to be for reading.
Muttering an oath that was swallowed by the wind, she stopped walking and looked back in the direction she had come. The cedar-shingled resort stood three stories tall—four, really, given the pilings that raised it another twelve feet above sea level to protect it from flooding. Natural sand dunes dotted with clumps of gangly grass buffered the structure from the worst of the Atlantic’s abuse.
Home.
Kellen might refer to it as such, but for Brigit that truly was the case. It was here she’d come after her nasty divorce. Pride battered, feeling like an epic failure. The sea air, the sense of purpose, both had played a key role in ushering her back from the brink of despair.
Her gaze skimmed the balconies that stretched out from every room to maximize the view. Even though it was early afternoon, the lights burned brightly in the windows, beacons of welcome to any guests who had braved the worsening weather and boarded the last ferry from the mainland before the storm halted service. Once travelers reached the island, of course, they would still have to navigate the winding roads over the hilly center of H
adley Island to the eastern shore where the resort was situated. But even accounting for the slow going, those guests would be arriving soon.
With a sigh, Brigit headed back. She had a job to do and she would do it. Right now, her priority was to see that all new arrivals were comfortably settled in their rooms. Once that task was accomplished, she would work on figuring out her own accommodations for the duration of Kellen’s stay.
By the time she reached the resort, any part of her body not covered by the slicker was drenched. She had hoped to have enough time to change into dry clothes and do something with her hair before the first guests arrived, but a full-size black SUV was pulling up under the covered portico at the main entrance as she came around the dune.
The driver hopped out, as did another man, who came around from the vehicle’s passenger side. Both were big and burly. Bodyguards? It wasn’t a surprise. A lot of the inn’s guests were important people—Hollywood A-listers, business magnates, politicians. Before either man could reach for the handle, however, the rear passenger door swung open.
Brigit covered her mouth, but a gasp still escaped.
Kellen Faust. The heir was early.
She’d never met Kellen in person. They exchanged emails and texts a couple times a month, and occasionally a phone call. But he’d never come for a visit. Now here he was. In the flesh. And he wasn’t at all what Brigit had expected.
Every photograph she had seen of him—and the guy turned up in print and online media reports with as much regularity as the tide—showed a handsome young man with sun-lightened brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes, a carefree smile and a body honed to perfection under what had to be the capable tutelage of a well-paid personal trainer.
His Very Convenient Bride Page 17