Beauty and the Wolf / Their Miracle Twins

by Faye Dyer, Lois, Logan, Nikki

  ‘You’re a celebrant?’ Bel croaked.

  ‘All legal and binding,’ the man said quietly. ‘We do weddings all the time.’

  Binding. In the real world, maybe. But two people here knew this was only for now, not for ever.

  Flynn reached across her and took her hand, turning her towards him. Her pulse kicked up. This was it … The moment of no return. Once Flynn had her signature on the wedding certificate he’d have equal rights under the law. Equal family standing and equal marriage status. Equal chance of taking Gwen and Drew’s children.

  Her lashes fluttered shut and something shifted deep inside her. The same something that thought standing here with this man felt so right.

  Flynn had every right to contest the decree. He was full uncle to these babies as she was full aunt. He was just fighting for them, too.

  ‘Bel …?’

  Whatever came, they would face it together. It might not be conventional togetherness but it was the first time in years that she felt as if she had someone to stand with her. To understand.

  She opened her eyes and locked onto Flynn’s and, for the first time in months, she spoke the truth. ‘I’m ready.’

  He turned them both back to face the celebrant-guide. The man composed himself with his folder nice and high and met both their eyes in turn.

  ‘Please take each other’s hands …’

  The vows weren’t traditional, a small mercy. Bel wasn’t sure she could have stood straight through all that loving and honouring and sickness and health. They were untraditional, like their venue. Like their marriage. Flynn had even thought to use only first names in the ceremony so that there were no awkward Rochester/Cluney moments.

  Thank God one of them was thinking.

  All Bel could do was drown in the celebrant’s words and cling embarrassingly to Flynn’s hand. Even though it was also the hand twisting hers into this marriage. There was no one else here she could turn to for understanding, no one she wasn’t already going to hurt with her lies. And so she shielded herself for brief moments in the poetry of the vows and dreamed of how it might feel to be truly standing here with a man she loved.

  ‘… and let this sacrifice bind you …’ the celebrant said, pouring a half-glass of what smelled like champagne into the earth ‘… and hold you, as you hold each other.’

  Flynn added a second hand to the first and she struggled to ignore how secure his fingers felt wrapped around her shaking ones. He’d been watching her closely since the start of the ceremony, presumably waiting for any sign she was going to lose it.

  She took another deep breath.

  She would not lose it here in this underworld. The earth demanded her strength. Her eyes lifted to Flynn’s and she let herself be consumed by the grey depths. Was it coincidence that the celebrant had spoken of sacrifice? They were both giving up their freedom for the children she carried.

  ‘Let family keep you …’

  She blinked with confusion. First sacrifice and now family. Was someone trying to make a point?

  ‘… and the earth sustain you.’

  Okay … She glared at Flynn pointedly. He just smiled, fast and tiny. The celebrant moved between them and put his hands on their joined ones.

  ‘The rings?’

  Arthur stepped forward with two white gold bands on a thread of ribbon. One delicate and fine and minutely engraved with swirls, the other larger and thicker. He’d thought of rings. For some reason, she hadn’t expected a ring. Given she’d be returning it in a few months.

  Flynn slid his hand around beneath her left one and lifted it. He concentrated on getting the delicate white gold band safely onto the tip of her ring-finger and then lifted his blazing eyes to hers and held them as he slowly slid the ring down the length of her finger. Until it could go no further.

  As if it was never coming off.

  The heat in his gaze threw her. He picked now to suddenly be angry with her? She searched his expression.

  The celebrant cleared his throat meaningfully.

  Oh … She took the remaining ring in her tremulous fingers and forced them to be steady long enough to get the ring onto Flynn’s. She’d not seen his nails this clean since London. The ridiculousness of that observation made her almost giggle.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes—was he waiting for her to turn hysterical?

  The celebrant spoke again. ‘And so, in the presence of your family and of each other, it is done. You are husband and wife.’ They both stared at him and, for a moment, he looked at a loss. Denise and Alice burst into excited applause and under the screen of their excitement he quietly hinted to them, ‘You may kiss.’

  Kiss? Bel flicked her focus urgently between the celebrant and Flynn. ‘Uh … Is it still …’ she whispered. ‘Can it be legal without …?’

  A deep frown cut the celebrant-guide’s moderate face. ‘It’s legal, yes … but …’

  ‘She’s kidding,’ Flynn cut in, glaring at her meaningfully the moment the celebrant looked down at his folder. ‘And shy.’

  ‘Of course,’ the man said. ‘How about I just prepare the certificate …?’

  And then he was off, leaving just the two of them perched high in the opening of the earth, with his family and all her lies on one side and a two hundred foot drop to an ancient frigid crater on the other. And a belly-full of babies, which meant there was really only one way she could go.

  ‘It’s just a kiss, Bel.’

  Panic surged through her on painful pulses. ‘I don’t … We don’t … Your family’s watching …’

  ‘Exactly. How will that look? We’re supposed to have made children together and you won’t even kiss me?’

  I don’t care how it will look. I care about how it will feel. How I will feel … Her heart hammered furiously in her chest cavity. ‘You said you don’t kiss in public.’

  ‘This is going to have to be an exception.’ He slipped his hands from hers and slid them up to frame her face. ‘They’re all waiting.’

  Oh, God …

  He inched closer, towering over her, and the excited chatter from his family warped into a high-pitched drone in her ears. She could feel Flynn’s pulse beating as powerfully as hers into her lower lip as he dragged his thumb gently over it, learning its shape.

  The tingles she usually felt on contact with him had dressed up for the occasion, too. They zinged, live and sharp as electric current down into her body and caused what little air remained in her lungs to escape on a shocked breath.

  His eyes flicked down briefly as her mouth fell open, but then he returned them to hers, studying her for the slightest reaction, his own lips parting as he lowered his head. And then their lips touched—his, warm and soft and encouraging; hers, cool and startled and non-participatory.

  She physically jerked at the first touch, but the fingers curled around the base of her skull meant she couldn’t go far. He lingered for a heartbeat before shuffling half a step closer and tilting her face for a better angle. They pressed more firmly against her and his breath warmed the deathly cool of her flesh while her head swam with the earthy scent of him. It felt as if he were stealing her soul through her frigid lips and he slid one hand down around her middle to keep her upright. That brought her hard up against his torso and triggered an uprising in her already struggling heartbeat. It surged so forcefully through her veins … he’d have to feel it pulsing in her lips.

  She broke the contact long enough to suck in a breath and that would have been the time to step back, to end the kiss and this farce of a wedding. But those full, sweet lips were only millimetres from hers and still so warm and inviting, and the body held against hers was so intriguingly masculine, and all the rogue thoughts from Alice’s bedroom came flooding back. Wondering what it would be like to touch Flynn for real, imagining him pressed down on top of her, buried in her kiss, buried in her …

  Even though that was a bad, bad, bad idea.

  Her fingers closed around his jacket. Escape was just a gentle push
away.

  But escape was in the other direction, and Bel’s body stretched back up to close the distance between them. Flynn’s eyes flared briefly as she pressed her mouth back against his but the shock didn’t slow him for long. He forked his free hand around beneath the complicated twists of braids in her hair and realigned his mouth to fully seal them together.

  A proper kiss. A killer kiss.

  His lips nudged hers into movement, opening them wider and dragging back and forth across them. And then his tongue joined the party and Bel was lost in the hot, wet, hormonal haze. Her chest squeezed for lack of air and when she finally breathed in it was mostly Flynn’s exhaled breath.

  He pulled her up harder against him. Hips to hips. Hard to soft. She clung to him hopelessly as the bowels of the earth spun madly around them.

  Behind them, someone cleared their throat tactfully and Bel came screaming back to reality. She tore her lips from Flynn’s and fought to focus her cloudy gaze on the politely averted eyes of his family.

  Drew’s family. He should have been here, too.

  Flynn stiffened up immediately. He didn’t release her far, but he tucked his lips down to her ear and whispered thickly, darkly, ‘Wrong brother, Princess.’

  As he pulled back, Bel stumbled at the glacial ore burning into her where, moments ago, such heat had been.

  Oh, God, had she said that aloud? She glanced at the sharp line of Flynn’s jaw and knew she must have. She blushed furiously at her error and Alice clapped her hands with delight, misreading the colour flooding her cheeks. The whole family joined in, celebrating the newlyweds. Bel took advantage of Flynn’s firm hold and leaned into him since her knees weren’t quite up to the task yet. He at least had the good grace not to drop her on her face.

  Still, no one else had heard. She fumbled to make good. ‘Flynn—’

  The look he shot her would have stilled an earthquake but he disguised it by escorting her to the signing table and waiting while she tremulously signed. He added his own distinctive mark to the document, taking care to position one hand carefully so that neither of his parents saw Bel’s true surname as they signed their witness. They were too excited and emotional to notice.

  She was still not quite steady from his kiss. She tried again. ‘Flynn—’

  ‘Forget it,’ he gritted, not quite meeting her eyes and pulling her closer to him as Arthur took a few photographs on his ancient camera. He released her the moment it was done. ‘I’m sure you weren’t the only one wishing my brother was here.’

  ‘I wasn’t …’ How could she tell him he’d blown all thoughts of anyone else from her mind with that kiss? Until she’d turned and seen the Bradleys surging towards her and remembered exactly why they were here … Why she had a ring on her finger. Gwen and Drew. She couldn’t. Not without sounding ridiculous. And he really didn’t need any more ammunition in that regard. Besides, this was all just a ruse to him. What did it matter what she’d blurted?

  She stared, her feet only now returning to steadiness. ‘So, now what?’

  He glanced at his family, who were moving towards them. ‘Now you put that smile back on your face and pretend this isn’t the worst moment of your life.’

  She wiped her palms down her dress, eyes flickering at the unfamiliar feeling of a ring where one hadn’t been. ‘Flynn—’

  Bill and Denise swept up to them, aglow with congratulations. Arthur and Alice weren’t far behind.

  Later, Flynn mouthed and turned with a big, fat, fake smile into the open arms of his family.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LATER turned out to be much later. The celebratory dinner went on for hours and hours and Bel saw the Bradley clan in full raucous flight. Flynn winced every time a champagne cork hit the ceiling or Denise and Bill danced noisily in the kitchen or Arthur grabbed a pregnant Bel and twirled her across the room. It was all so … country.

  His wife laughed and clapped and appeared to genuinely enjoy being the centre of the universe tonight, although always with the hint of shadow that perpetually clung to her.

  His wife.

  Freaky.

  He’d felt very connected to her standing in that cave listening to the celebrant’s words. He’d certainly felt for her and done his best to still her trembling. This whole thing had been a whirlwind for both of them but at least he was at home, in his element, surrounded by people who loved him.

  Bel had no one.

  But then she’d murmured his brother’s name, almost under her breath. He’d swear she didn’t even know she’d done it. And in truth he had no right to expect any different, given Drew was the reason they were all here, but it really wasn’t the first word he’d hoped to hear from her after you may kiss the bride.

  And what a kiss it had been.

  She spun past in Pop’s embrace, her gauzy dress floating in a cloud around her and wafting upwards to reveal even more of those endless porcelain legs. Long enough to wrap around him twice. As she came to a stop, the dress clung to her curves in a way that accentuated rather than disguised the body beneath it. His eyes raked over her. She claimed her midsection was thickening with the babies but he couldn’t really see much evidence of it anywhere else on her body.

  ‘Dance with your wife, Flynn,’ his nan called from her seat across the room, a knowing smile on her face. ‘Don’t just stare at her.’

  He held his drink up in salute and she matched it and then turned her eyes happily back to the celebrating family. Flynn’s followed.

  She moved like a dancer, not like a pregnant woman. Bending, flowing, twisting …

  His whole body tightened and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Before long, the music slowed and Arthur released Bel and turned to search out someone a few decades closer to his own age to slow dance with.

  Without even meaning to, Flynn pushed to his feet and crossed to stand before her.

  She lifted wide eyes to him. ‘Is it time to go?’

  She hoped not—it was written all over her face. Was that the cause of the shadows under her eyes? Was she anxious about moving back to his house with him? There was no real reason—it wasn’t as if it was a real wedding night. Doubly so with the spectre of his dead brother hovering all of a sudden.

  He held out a single hand.

  The wide eyes creased with confusion. ‘Really?’

  ‘I believe it’s customary for the bride and groom to dance at some point.’ Though not usually under sufferance. ‘I won’t bite.’

  She stood and joined him in the heart of the living room where all the furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and let him draw her into his hold. The music was quiet enough to talk over, but loud enough that they could do so unheard by the others. His parents had moved into their own slow dance in the country kitchen and his grandparents spread out on the sofa.

  Bel stood stiff and awkward in his arms and kept her eyes low.

  He leaned closer, lower, and whispered, ‘Relax. You look like I’m walking you to the guillotine.’

  She was like a furnace in his arms and heat leached into him wherever they touched. She straightened her spine and pressed herself closer to him, lifting her eyes to his.

  ‘About earlier—’

  No. They were not going to talk about that now. Here. He shook her a warning look. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Her answer was immediate. ‘Overwhelmed.’

  ‘It’s done now. You can relax’

  ‘No. I won’t be able to relax until this is all truly over.’

  His lips tightened. ‘When you’re back in London?’

  ‘When I’m back in the real world.’

  ‘This is the real world.’

  ‘Yours, maybe. For me, this is like living someone else’s life. A fantasy life. Like I just warped in here one night and no one has noticed yet that I don’t belong.’

  He’d worried for the first few weeks that she wore her heart too clearly on her sleeve, that she wasn’t as proficient in pretence as her socially skilled s
ister. But as time wore on he’d convinced himself she was coping. Carving a niche for herself. Perhaps she was a better performer than he thought if she was still actually feeling so disconnected. You wouldn’t know it to look at her. She looked as if she’d been living here her whole life, surrounded by his family and connecting with their land.

  The idea immediately resonated in its rightness. He frowned and pushed the thought away. ‘You’re doing fine.’

  ‘Fine.’ She sighed, exhaustion manifesting as dampness in her blue eyes. ‘Such a beige word. I had hoped you’d recognise how hard I’m working. At least give me that much credit.’

  He slowed to almost a standstill. It wasn’t her fault he’d crossed a line at the ceremony today. Forgotten why they were really there. The swell of her abdomen low against his was the reminder he needed. He tucked her closer into him and murmured, ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m performing from sunrise until sunset. The only time I can be me is when I’m alone.’ The moisture threatened to spill over.

  His hands tightened on hers. ‘Or with me.’

  She looked at him strangely then. ‘Not even then. Not with how you feel about my family.’

  He glanced around to make sure their conversation was still private. ‘Okay, look. I’m willing to accept that you aren’t cut from the same cloth as your sister—’

  ‘Gwen,’ Bel spat, managing somehow to keep her face fairly neutral. But her eyes blazed. ‘Her name was Gwen and though you didn’t like her I loved her with everything I had. She deserves to be remembered by her name.’

  Flynn studied her pale face and finally saw what he suspected he’d been missing all this time. It hurt her when he bagged her sister. And he did that a lot.

  He picked his path carefully, still hurting from her slip-up earlier today. ‘You’re different to Gwen. I can see that.’

  The music changed and the next song was fast and loud, giving them more cover to have this long overdue conversation. The older Bradleys all retreated to the comfort of the kitchen for a drink.