by Lund, S. E.
I took in a deep breath and walked over to where she stood, examining something green that I couldn't identify.
"Claire," I said and stood beside her.
She turned and saw me, her eyebrows rising. "Kate…"
We stood in an awkward silence for a moment, and I debated what to say next.
"I spoke with Sefton deVilliers last week," I said, soldiering on despite the tension in my gut. I hated confrontations, but I felt I had to say something. "He told me that you thought Drake and I would break up soon and that you practically encouraged him to pursue me."
Claire frowned and put the vegetable down. She set her mouth as if she were ready to fight.
"You broke Drake’s heart in Manhattan," she said and when I started to speak, she held her hand up as if to stop me. "He told Michael about you, and Michael was worried for him – so heartbroken about the end of your relationship. You seemed too young and fickle for someone like Drake, who's a rock. You can't understand what it's like to be in medicine. You have no idea of the demands. You have to understand, I had Drake's best interest in mind…"
"No," I said, angry. "You had your own idea of what was best for Drake in mind. Drake doesn't want someone like Sam. He told me the other night that he's glad I'm not in medicine. He likes to leave his job behind at the hospital, and come home to something completely different. That means me."
She said nothing, but her face was red.
"Anyway," I said, hoping to smooth things over a bit for Drake's sake. "Drake loves Michael as a friend and admires him as a colleague. I hope this doesn't come between them. They seem to work really well together, and I won't do anything to prevent that. I hope you won't as well."
Claire's mouth opened and she sputtered. "Of course, I would never… How could you think…"
Then I turned and walked away without looking back.
Later, when Drake and I were lying on the couch watching something on television, I brought up my run in with Claire. I recounted the conversation word for word so he knew what we'd said to each other.
"How did she seem?" he said, stroking my hair. "I wonder if she'll say anything to Michael."
"She seemed insulted that I would suggest she might get in between you and Michael. Let's hope that shuts her up."
He sighed and kissed my forehead. "I've had my fill of interfering friends. When we go back to Manhattan, I want us to marry right away so we can end any speculation about our relationship – with anyone."
" Should we invite Michael and Claire?"
"Of course. I want to invite Michael. Claire can come if she wants, but I have a feeling she'll be unable to."
"I'm sorry," I said, truly sad that all of it happened. "I wish things could have been different between the four of us."
"Me, too."
He kissed me, his lips covering mine, his passion for me apparent in his quickening breath, and the hard length of him pressing into my belly. My body responded to his warmth, his strength so arousing. Under his expert touch, all the concern and worry I'd felt since coming to Nairobi, my insecurity about whether I was good enough for Drake, if I was right for him, if he was right for me, and whether we'd be able to work things out to make a future together, faded into nothingness.
Drake pulled away and met my eyes. "We have each other," he said and stroked my cheek. "We love each other. Madly. Deeply. In the end, that's all that matters to me."
"Madly," I said, echoing his words, tears springing to my eyes. "Deeply."
EPILOGUE
Seven Months Later
A year to the day I met Drake at my father's fundraiser, I was in my parent's bedroom at their apartment on Park Avenue.
The master bedroom was huge and decorated in a sparse Zen décor but today, it was crowded. My father sat in his wheelchair and presided over the final touches to my 'costume' for the day – a floor-length white wedding dress with a corset-style bodice, a sweetheart neckline, the sheath covered in French lace, the skirt A-line with a long pleated train that spread out behind me a full five feet. It was far more than I had wanted, especially for a small ceremony at my father's apartment in Manhattan, but he had his ways of convincing me. He helped me pick it out when Drake and I returned from Africa.
"What do you think, Daddy?" I asked, turning around in a circle in front of him. When he got tears in his eyes, and covered his mouth with a hand, I knew I made the right choice.
"Beautiful," he managed, blinking his eyes.
"Oh, Daddy…" I went to him and kissed his cheek, taking his good hand in mine and squeezing. He'd never recovered the full use of his left side, the paralysis lingering longer than we anticipated but he was getting therapy for it and had been making slow progress month by month. His name had been removed from the ballot, but he was determined to try once more in two years.
He wouldn’t walk me down the aisle, but he'd wheel me, and that made me very happy.
When we were alone, I sat on the bed beside him while he sat in his wheelchair, adjusting his cuffs.
"What did you and Drake talk about before he left Manhattan to return to Nairobi?" I had already heard Drake’s side of the conversation, but I wanted to hear it from my father.
He tilted his head, a faraway look in his eyes.
"He told me to get better. That I was too young to kick the bucket just yet and that he didn’t want to lose the only father he had left." He turned to me and smiled softly. "I said a bunch of really melodramatic stuff that men of our nature don't really like to admit to, stuff about love and family and loyalty, and all that crap. You know."
“No I don’t know. Tell me!” I smiled and shook my head. "You’re both old softies at heart."
"I'll deny that to my dying day," he said and laughed. “But I did tell him that in the end, all the money and power and influence, the career accolades and accomplishments are worth nothing without a woman you love who loves you back. Without love and family, a man’s life is nothing. In the end, it’s love that makes a man happy. I said that if he loved you, he’d put you first.”
“Oh, Daddy,” I said, tears in my eyes. “That’s so wonderful.”
“I meant it,” he said. “Obviously Drake realizes it’s the truth. Hold on tight to him, sweetheart. Love him more than anything.”
“I will. I do.”
Outside the bedroom, I heard the harpist start to play music, signaling that the few guests who were attending must be arriving.
"Guess it's almost time," my father said, his voice filled with emotion. "Better finish up your primping and preening and visit the powder room before we get started."
I smiled through my tears and stood up, deciding to take his advice.
As I waited to use the en suite bathroom, I thought about the wedding. I had insisted that we have less than a dozen guests, most of them friends of my father's and colleagues from Doctors Without Borders. Nigel and his partner were attending as was Dave Mills. Michael had flown in from Nairobi the night before, but strangely, Claire had been unable to come. I felt bad that Dawn wasn't attending, but we hadn't been able to reconcile, despite how happy I was with Drake. It was a hole in my life that would never be filled. Lara attended, demanding to have some role, since it was she who selected Drake for me based on my profile at FetLife.
I wanted to spend the previous night at my father's so Drake and I could follow protocol and not see each other for the 24-hour period prior to our wedding, but Drake wouldn't hear of it.
"I said I didn't want us to be separated again, and I want it to stay that way," Drake said when I suggested spending the night at my father's. "To hell with your silly superstition. I'm a scientist, and there's simply no convincing evidence that allowing the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony leads to a failed marriage."
"But it’s a tradition!' I protested.
"It's a tradition based on a time when the bride and groom had never even seen each other. It was intended to prevent one or the other from running off in horror when they
did. We've both already seen every single naked inch of each other so there's no fear of that. Besides, look what happened to my first marriage. We followed all the rules."
I couldn't argue. Drake had a traditional wedding with Maureen, and had been apart for the night before the wedding. It did nothing to protect their marriage.
I relented and stayed with him the night before the ceremony, but I made it a point to not look at him that entire evening and when we made love, he blindfolded me, which, luckily, was not a departure from the norm given the nature of our bedroom games. Drake tried to make me look him in the eye, but I was successful in avoiding it, studiously keeping my eyes squeezed shut even when he tickled me, making me silly with laughter afterward.
I got up really early the day of our wedding, didn't even look at him once my eyes opened, and before he woke up, I carefully slipped out of the 8th Avenue apartment we now shared. I knew that if I didn't, he'd force me to look in his eyes to make a point.
I didn't want to take chances with Fate, as much as I knew he was right.
So it was that I hadn't seen Drake for almost twenty-four hours when our late afternoon ceremony at my father's apartment approached. Elaine, Heath's wife Christie and I had been sipping champagne cocktails while we dressed to take the edge off our nerves, and so once Elaine was finished with my hair, attaching the veil to a clip in my up do, I had to use the washroom.
Christie was inside the en suite, so I slipped outside the bedroom to the main washroom down the hall, holding my dress up so I didn’t trip over it, but I stepped on the tulle and I fell against the wall trying not to rip it, my dress bunched up around me.
"Oh, Damn…" I muttered as I tried to free my foot from the fabric.
It was then Drake appeared, ruining my plans to avoid seeing him until I walked down the aisle. All I saw was a flash of sober black, a white bow tie, black shiny hair and blue-blue eyes beneath thick black lashes, but it was enough to know it was my husband-to-be. The man who could still take my breath away, he was that gorgeous.
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut.
"Dammit!" I said, covering my eyes with a hand. "I didn’t want to see you yet!"
"Well, nice to see you, too, Ms. Bennet," he said, his voice filled with humor. "Falling over in the hallway are you? I don't see any high heels on you this time. Or any bloody knees and hands but I do hope you're wearing some nice garters and stockings…"
I grinned at the reference to that first time we met, but kept my hand plastered over my eyes so I couldn't see him. "Only my usual deft footing to blame, I'm afraid. Please go away so I can go to the washroom without seeing you."
"You already saw me," he said and I felt him trying to free my foot from the hole I had made in the tulle despite my efforts to avoid it. He took my hands in his, prying them away from my eyes. I kept my eyes shut regardless. "If you’re right, you might as well accept that our marriage is over, and we might as well break up right now."
I opened my eyes at that, only to see his huge grin.
"I knew that would work," he said and held me out at arm's length. He turned me around in a circle, the train of my dress twisting so that I had to bend down and fix it. When I stood back up, the train in my hand, his eyes moved over me, stopping on my cleavage, which the strapless bodice was unable to entirely keep restrained. He made a little sound in the back of his throat when I fixed it, pulling the bodice up a bit to cover myself.
"Is that better?" I asked, adjusting my breasts.
"You look…" he said and shook his head slowly. "You look like you're covered in icing sugar and ready to be licked all over. How will I make it through the night?"
I smiled, pleased that he approved. "Do you like it? My father picked it out."
Drake clicked his tongue. "The man has wonderful taste." He moved closer to me, his arms slipping around my waist, pulling me against his body. "Speaking of taste, I want one…"
He kissed me, his mouth covering mine, his lips warm and soft. His touch sent a thrill through my body, igniting a fire that I knew wouldn’t soon burn out. His hand slipped over top of my dress, up from my waist to my bust, his fingers tracing the upper curves of my breasts.
"It's a beautiful dress, but to tell you the truth, I can't wait to strip this off you."
Then he reached into a pocket in his tux and handed me a white jewelry box with a white ribbon tied around it.
"Your neck is bare..." he said and caressed my collarbone.
"As you commanded," I said. The previous night, he'd instructed me not to wear my collar. I wondered why at the time, but now I knew. He had something else for me to wear.
"Since you slipped out this morning before I was able to give this to you, I had to sneak past the guards to get this to you before the ceremony."
I took the box and untied the ribbon, my fingers trembling. Inside was a necklace in white gold, the necklace encrusted with tiny diamonds, a large red teardrop diamond dangling from the center.
"Oh, my God, Drake." I held the box up, the diamonds sparkling in the light.
"Come here," he said and pulled me into the bathroom and in front of the large mirror. He took the necklace from the box and went behind me to place it around my neck. The large diamond hung below my throat.
"It's beautiful," I whispered, barely able to speak.
"Look at yourself," he said, his face next to mine. "You're beautiful, future Mrs. Katherine Marie McDermott Morgan."
I smiled at him in the mirror. He seemed really pleased that I decided to take his name and keep my father's as well. I realized that it was the perfect compromise. It touched me deeply that he wanted people to know I was his wife.
"Hopefully, every man you meet will think this necklace is just an indulgent extravagance on my part, but this is your new collar." He adjusted it on my neck. "Now you'll truly be mine," he said, his voice soft.
"I already was yours, Drake," I said, choking up.
I looked at my reflection – my hair was done in a soft up do, the veil behind me, the necklace around my throat, the lace of my dress catching the light. Drake stood behind me, his eyes moving over my reflection, his expression one of pure possession. He moved his hands over my shoulders and down to my hands, threading his fingers through mine, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
Then, he released my hands and slowly turned me around. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
He'd broken all his rules for me, to be with me, to have me.
I was his and he was mine, completely.
THE END
To my dear readers:
Now that you have finished my book, won’t you please consider writing a review? (US Store: http://tinyurl.com/UUSA2014 UK Store http://tinyurl.com/UUK2014 ) Reviews are the best way readers discover great new books. I would truly appreciate it!
S. E. Lund
About the Author
S. E. Lund is a writer who lives with her family of humans and pets in a century-old house on a quiet tree-lined street in a small city in Western Canada. She writes erotic and contemporary romance and paranormal romance. You can find her on Twitter @selundwriter , on Facebook as well as on Goodreads.
Information on upcoming releases is available at www.Selund.com