Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams

by Christina Skye

Cathlin didn’t move. “So she wanted to assess your ‘lordly assets,’ did she?”

  “It was a lifetime ago, Cathlin. And nothing happened, I assure you. Now why don’t we head upstairs before—”

  The dapper hotelier interrupted enthusiastically. “Oh, yes, Lord Draycott was most specific in his requests. You will find everything molto bene.” He kissed his fingers. “And the flowers, so lovely. I myself shall escort you up.”

  “There’s no need, truly, George. I’m certain we can find our way to the room.”

  “Oh, not just any room. To the penthouse suite, you understand.”

  At that moment a handsome man with mahogany skin and a rum-soft Jamaican accent strode past. “Welcome back, Lord Ashton.” He gave a quick grin. “Things always do happen when you’re here, that’s for certain. I hear they got something pretty special waiting for you and your lady upstairs, mon. Yes, it’s a true pleasure to have you back.”

  Cathlin’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Ashton?”

  “Yes?” Anxious. Definitely anxious.

  At that moment Cathlin decided she’d had enough. She ran her arms slowly along her husband’s shoulders and twined her fingers at his neck. Then she moved to tiptoes, sliding closer with every tormentingly sensual inch of her progress.

  A deep silence fell over the gilt lobby. Bellboys paused over their luggage. Bemused guests slowed their steps. The uniformed attendants at the desk put down their pens and studied the new arrivals with blatant curiosity.

  Cathlin made the kiss long, slow, and roughly the temperature of Cajun sauce piquante.

  When her air finally gave out and she eased away from Dominic, she noted with satisfaction that his pupils were dilated and his pulse was definitely ragged. “Just so you don’t forget that you’re a married man now,” she said silkily.

  Dominic cleared his throat and studied her glowing face.

  Behind them the silence was deafening.

  “Meet my new wife, everyone,” he said hoarsely.

  The sound of clapping broke over the polished lobby as Dominic turned and, with a determined look on his face, tugged his wife toward the gleaming bank of elevators.

  THE PENTHOUSE WAS INDEED prepared. Roses spilled from crystal dishes and china vases, filling the air with lush perfume. The doors to the balcony were thrown open, overlooking the green sweep of Hyde Park.

  Dominic barely noticed. With a supreme effort of will, he pulled away from Cathlin. “I’ll run a bath, then call room service.”

  “I’m not hungry. Not for food at least,” she said raggedly.

  Dominic ran a hand through his hair. “But we barely ate in the car. And after what happened yesterday, you—”

  Cathlin touched his mouth. “No. Not ever again. It’s done, put away in the past, where it belongs. The future is all I want to think about now. The future with you.”

  “But—”

  At that moment the shrill clamor of the doorbell brought Dominic around, cursing. “Yes?” he demanded of the liveried attendant outside.

  “Flowers, Lord Ashton. They’re from housekeeping.” The man held out a huge expanse of white and pink carnations. “Mrs. Morrison said to thank you again for your help with those men who were threatening her son.”

  Dominic gave a distracted smile, trying not to look at Cathlin. “Just a small favor,” he muttered.

  The door had barely closed when the buzzing began again. This time a buxom woman in a neat gray uniform held out a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of etched silver. “For you, Monsieur. Merci mille fois,” she said hoarsely. “Without you, my Pierre would still be undergoing questioning for a crime he did not commit. Thank you for believing when no one else did.” She wiped her eye, pressed a quick kiss on Dominic’s cheek, curtsied, then withdrew without another word.

  Dominic set the bucket on a gilt table beside the balcony doors. As he did, the buzzer sounded yet again. Outside a small and very round man in a pristine white chef’s hat stood moving from one foot to the other.

  “So they were right. You’ve come back, Lord Ashton.” The chef shot a glance at Cathlin, who was watching this parade of gifts with a bemused look on her face. After a courteous nod, he pulled a foil covered box from behind his back. “For you, my lord.” His cheeks grew red. “Not that it’s half enough, not after all you did when those goons came after me. I did owe them a lot of money, of course.” He looked at Cathlin and gave an unhappy shrug. “Gambling debts, you understand. Without Lord Ashton?” The man gave an expressive shrug. “No more crêpes or Grand Marnier soufflés,” he finished grimly. “He is a special man, this one. The truffles, they are small, for I owe him my life. That is why I want to wish you both every happiness.” He pressed Dominic’s arm awkwardly, then backed from the room, eyes misted.

  Dominic stood staring at the foiled box in his hands, shoulders stiff, legs braced. After a moment he sighed and turned to face Cathlin. “I didn’t know they’d, well—” He waved at the gifts.

  Cathlin felt a burn in her throat. “Don’t apologize, you crazy, stubborn man. I’ve been too selfish to see you as you really are. And that, my dear Lord Ashton, is wonderful. Incomparable.”

  “No.” Dominic’s voice was harsh as he sank into a plush damask armchair and tugged Cathlin across his lap. “I’m going to do this right, by heaven. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Another shrill buzz sent lines down his forehead. “Come in,” he called curtly.

  A uniformed teenager stood self-consciously in the foyer. “Lord Ashton? I have the package you requested from Harrods.”

  “Put it on the end table.” Dominic’s eyes didn’t leave Cathlin’s face as he counted out change for a tip. When the door closed softly, he gathered an unsteady breath. “The truth is that I’m a fake, Cathlin. I think I’ve always been a fake. I’ve never belonged anywhere. When I was young I felt too French among my schoolmates here and too English when I went back to my family in France. I learned to play a role, hiding my pain—no, denying it ever existed. That’s why being a bodyguard was perfect. My life evolved into one great act.”

  “Dominic, you don’t have to tell me this.”

  “No, let me finish. I want you to believe that the act ended that day in Italy when those teenagers died. Serita told you about it, I know. I had to face myself then, Cathlin—what I was and what I wasn’t. And that sight made me turn around and never go back. You must believe that. I’m out for good. I will never be what your father became.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me about La Trouvaille?” Cathlin asked gently.

  “Because in a way that, too, was an act. My mind still runs back to the crowded parade grounds where I’m watching the eyes, waiting for the flash of an automatic weapon and steeling myself to take the bullet if it comes.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t change overnight. But it will. One day La Trouvaille will be natural for me. The grass will feel right beneath my feet and the wind over the hill will be the most ordinary thing in all the world. But for now it’s still an amazing gift every second of every day I pass there, and until that changes I guess I’ll feel like a fake.”

  “You are truly blessed, Dominic. I have no doubt that your sense of being blessed is what makes that wine of yours so special.”

  He gave her a slight smile. “Keep telling me that often enough and I might begin to believe you, Irish. Until then—” Dominic held the box out to her “—believe that this is no act. What I feel for you is as natural as breathing—and every bit as necessary.” He took out a ring with three emeralds separated by tiny diamonds and slid it onto Cathlin’s finger, where it rested next to the Ashton family ring which it had been designed to match.

  “This is real Cathlin. My throat goes dry whenever I look at you. My hands get clammy when I see you shove your hair back out of your eyes. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you at that blasted wine auction, so sleek and confident and utterly American. I resented that wine you were so in love with and I wanted to put that same glow
in your eyes.” He drew a ragged breath. “I’m making a mess of this, I’m afraid.” He went down on his knee before her. “I’ve never been good at facing my deepest feelings, much less expressing them. But I want to now, Cathlin. What I feel for you is so real it makes my eyes burn. Somehow you reached into my chest and found the heart I wasn’t sure I had. That’s what I had to explain to you. I had to show you how much you’ve changed my life.” His eyes darkened. “So will you marry me? For us, this time. Because of this feeling, not because of wine or wills or dead ancestors creeping through our heads. Will you, Cathlin?”

  She rose and pulled him into her body, her eyes misty. “I will. Because I love you. Because I love how you try to hide every single good thing about yourself and then get angry when you can’t. For such a big, tough guy, you’re a pushover, Montserrat. And now…” She started to tug at the belt of her raincoat.

  Dominic’s eyes blazed. “No, Cathlin. Not yet. I’m not done.”

  “Yes you are. I’ve heard enough explanations for one day. Besides, if we stand here any longer that buzzer is going to ring again and a dozen new people will flood in with gifts. Then we’ll never have any privacy. Just go put out the Do Not Disturb sign.”

  An arrested gleam in his eyes, Dominic did as she asked.

  When the sound of jetting water drew him into the vast marbled bathroom, he saw Cathlin’s raincoat discarded on the floor and her body half-hidden beneath a froth of bubbles in the creamy marble tub.

  Dominic’s mouth filled with cotton gauze. “I hope the ring fits.” Sweat broke over his brow. “I tried to estimate your size.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “And about La Trouvaille, we can split our time there. I have a handpicked staff who can manage things at the vineyards during the slack season. If you prefer to focus your work here in London, then—”

  “Dominic?”

  “What?”

  Her toe climbed from the froth. “London’s out.”

  “It is? So you want Philadelphia? We could manage it, I suppose. Tricky, but not entirely impossible.”

  “Dominic?”

  “Yes?”

  White foam slid back to one sleek calf. “Not Philadelphia either.”

  “No?” He nodded, after a moment’s reluctance. “I understand, Cathlin. Your job is very important. I never meant to take it from you.”

  “Not anywhere but with you, at La Trouvaille.”

  Dominic’s eyes took on a rush of primitive, elemental shock. “Truly?”

  Cathlin rose slowly, foam in every sleek curve, her eyes awash with love. “Truly.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Without a doubt. And now I’ve got a confession of my own to make.”

  “I knew it. You’re already married?” His voice was husky.

  Cathlin shook her head silently.

  “You’re wanted for armed robbery in three countries?”

  She kept approaching; as she did Dominic’s hands kept getting tenser.

  “Be quiet and let me confess, tough guy.” When she moved into him, it felt as natural as ice cream melting on an August afternoon.

  “I’m listening,” Dominic said hoarsely, his body hardening instantly at the wet pressure of her naked skin.

  “What I’ve been trying to tell you is that you can guard my body anytime you like, Officer. In fact I’ve been having fantasies about your guarding me. Ever since that first day at Seacliffe.”

  “No kidding.”

  Her hands feathered over his broad chest. They kissed, long and slow. Linen fell and cotton fled. Skin melted against hungry skin.

  Two bodies met the scented waters. Dominic’s foot accidentally triggered the jets, which screeched into activity, water and foam flying everywhere.

  He groaned as he sank into her, his blood churning, hot and wild as the water jetting around them.

  Cathlin arched against him, endlessly pliant, endlessly welcoming. She sighed huskily, taking the whole demanding length of him.

  Dominic closed his eyes, fighting for sanity. “But the ring—are you sure it fits? If not I can—”

  Her ankle eased over his thigh. Her muscles tensed, catching him up in a rush of pure, exquisite torture.

  Cathlin’s eyes gleamed. “As a point of future information, Officer Montserrat, this is as perfect a fit as I ever expect to find anywhere in this life.”

  And when she spoke, the emerald and diamond ring Dominic had slipped on her finger was nowhere in sight.

  EPILOGUE

  France

  The Garonne Valley

  IT WAS A PLACE OF SUN AND stone and heat. The sky was shimmering and cloudless as the wind ran over the green hills, rich with orange blossoms and lavender.

  La Trouvaille spread over the hillside and covered the valley carved out by a curve of the Garonne River. Every fertile inch was consigned to neat rows of grapes that hung on emerald vines.

  A bird screeched angrily. Tired and dusty, Dominic Montserrat pushed from beneath a layer of leaves and surveyed the netting he had been tying to keep off pests. “That should do it.”

  “Now you’re going to rest.” Cathlin’s face was tanned and radiant as she eased out of the spot where she’d sat to help him. Of course, Dominic could have turned the backbreaking work over to one of his staff, but by habit he chose the hardest work for himself. Cathlin had long since given up trying to persuade him to do otherwise. Stretching her shoulders, she sat back and surveyed her dusty, but very satisfied, husband.

  “Not yet. There are three more rows yet to finish.”

  Cathlin sniffed. “I knew you’d say that. That’s why I took matters into my own hands.”

  “What matters?”

  “Lunch, for a start.” Cathlin pulled a hamper from beneath a neighboring vine. “Caviar. Wild strawberries.” Her eyes rose to Dominic’s face. “Belgian lace napkins. Unless, perhaps you’ve forgotten a certain drive to London in a certain limousine?”

  “Oh, Irish, I haven’t forgotten. Not in a thousand years.”

  “Good. Then relax while I open this bottle. You might remember it from a certain London wine auction? Château d’Yquem 1870. Marvelous texture and wonderful finesse.”

  “It was a very expensive way to get your attention. And not very effective, as I recall.”

  “You might be surprised about that.” Her eyes turned thoughtful. “I thought you had to be the best-looking man I’d ever seen.” Cathlin touched the smudge of dirt at his chin. “I still think so.”

  Heat swept between them. The distant hum of a tractor, the backfiring of a truck, the high shrill cry of a hawk, all melted away to nothingness as Cathlin stared at Dominic’s deeply tanned face and thought how lucky they were to be alive and together and here in this beautiful valley filled with golden light.

  Happiness. She had finally begun to trust that it wouldn’t go away, that she had the right to be happy. The change hadn’t come immediately. She still awoke sweaty and breathless sometimes, expecting to hear Joanna Harcliffe’s cool, hypnotic voice telling her that she was the cause of her mother’s death.

  But now that Cathlin’s shadows had faces, she was finally able to fight them. Every day brought greater strength and deeper understanding. And every velvet night brought new textures of pleasure shared in the arms of the man beside her.

  Happiness. Cathlin smoothed the soft blue linen of her dress and looked out over La Trouvaille. The reddish soil was warm and pungent in the sun and the grape leaves whispered in their neatly trellised rows astride the hills above the river.

  “Dominic?” Cathlin’s fingers moved in restless circles. “I have to talk to you.”

  “I thought we were.”

  “No, really talk.”

  The seriousness of her voice made him sit up, frowning. “You miss England, don’t you? Blast it, I knew keeping you cooped up here at La Trouvaille was a bad idea. I can—”

  “It’s not that.” Her fingers went back and forth on the sun-warmed linen.


  “You want to go back to Philadelphia?” He took her face between his palms. “You should have told me, Cathlin.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Her eyes darkened.

  “Say it. Whatever you want, we’ll manage it somehow, I promise.”

  “It’s not a matter of my wanting. That is, not myself alone. It takes two to manage what I’m talking about, Dominic.”

  “Two? Is something wrong, Cathlin?” He sat up sharply. “Damn it, if you lifted those old casks after I told you not to—” Abruptly he went very still. “Two. Are you trying to tell me that you’re—that we’re—” He swallowed.

  “I am. A baby.”

  “A baby?” He looked at her face and then his eyes slid inexorably to the slender waist where her fingers were still moving restlessly. “A baby,” he whispered, half disbelieving. “You’re sure?”

  Cathlin nodded. “I got the results today.”

  A moment later she was gathered to his chest, his lips pressed to her hair. “You should have told me sooner!”

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  His fingers tightened and Cathlin felt a long sigh of contentment heave from his chest. “Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any better. You are seriously altering my gloomy view of the world, do you know that?”

  “You’re glad? Truly?”

  “I have no words to tell you how glad.” Their fingers locked. “I only hope she looks like you,” he said in a besotted voice.

  “I hope he looks like you.”

  “Sweet God, a baby. I think I need a drink,” Dominic said blankly. “Aunt Aggy will be ecstatic. She’s got chest upon chest of baby clothes she’s been saving neatly in lavender. I think she’d just about given up hope on me.”

  “You are a hard man to tame. I nearly gave up, too.”

  Dominic gave a crooked grin. “I’ve been conquered territory from the first moment I saw you, O’Neill. My heart shattered the second I saw you slithering past me in that black velvet suit.”

  “Slithering! I did no such thing. How dare you—”

  He cut her off with a kiss, fierce and hard, possessive and protective at the same time, as if he couldn’t quite trust his good fortune and needed to persuade himself this was not some kind of dream. When he finally pulled away, his face was hard with desire. “Let’s go back.” There was no mistaking his intention.