Protecting the Bride

by Shelley Munro

  “Want a drink?” Cullen asked.

  “Sure. I’ll book the table for dinner. Around seven, okay for you?”

  Cullen nodded. “Want wine or beer or something else?”

  “A glass of wine,” Grace said and grinned at him. “White, please. Might as well live dangerously.”

  They entered the pub together and parted ways just inside, with Cullen going left to enter the bar while she walked right into the restaurant to book dinner. She ended up booking dinner for eight but figured the later hour didn’t matter. They were on holiday and could sleep later than usual if they got tired.

  With all that was going on in her life at present, she could do with more sleep. An afternoon snooze. A nana nap. Grace pulled a face. Perhaps not with Cullen around. She wandered into the bar to discover Cullen chatting with the attractive blonde barmaid.

  Grace muttered under her breath and stepped up to join Cullen, her fists clenched at her sides. A burning sensation filled her chest—one Grace had no clue what to do with—considering she didn’t know where this possessive emotion was coming from. Gah! What was wrong with her today? Why had her thoughts suddenly turned toward Cullen in the romantic sense?

  It was Jeff’s fault. Obviously. His rejection of her—well, not really rejection, but the way he’d taken another woman to bed had screwed with Grace’s mind, hence the weird behavior on her part.

  “Did you get a reservation? Michelle says they’ve been busy this week.”

  “Eight o’clock,” Grace said and forced herself to smile pleasantly at Michelle, the barmaid. “You have a magnificent view from your workplace.”

  “That we do,” Michelle said with an amiable smile. “I hope you enjoy your holiday.” She moved away to pour an older man two handles of lager.

  “Want to sit outside in the sun?” Cullen asked.

  “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

  Cullen led the way out of the bar, opening the door for her. They sat at one of the wooden tables with a red-and-white umbrella shading them. Grace sat with a happy sigh, the view of the gentle waves rolling onto the sandy shore relaxing her. Two seabirds fought over a tidbit near the waterline while closer to her and Cullen, a redheaded man observed his two young children constructing sandcastles.

  Grace sipped her wine—a tart sauvignon blanc. She glanced to her left and spied a supermarket. “Since we’re not having dinner until eight, why don’t we grab a few beers, a bottle of wine, and a few snacks to have beforehand? We can sit on the deck outside and relax before dinner.”

  “Great idea,” Cullen agreed, turning his face to the sun. “We’ll have a wander first and visit the supermarket last.”

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Grace said.

  Cullen grinned, and his beautiful face made her heart beat faster. “Hell, it’s me who needs to thank you for letting me tag along. I’d be working on the house instead of kicking back and drinking a beer with a beautiful woman. It’s great to relax for the first time since I arrived home.”

  “You’re going back,” Grace said.

  “Yes.” Cullen didn’t add an explanation, and she didn’t ask for one.

  Instead, she changed the subject yet again. “I can’t get my head around Jeff dealing drugs from my house.”

  “Yeah, gut instinct tells me he was into something shady—judging by the visitors you’ve had to your place and the gunfire last night. Hopefully, the culprits will move on soon, especially if the police are paying attention.”

  Grace shuddered. “I can’t believe I misjudged Jeff so badly, and I’m furious about him stealing my money.” Her free hand curled into a tight fist. “I wish I could get my money back, but I got the impression he didn’t have it anymore.”

  “He might’ve spent it on drugs to resell.”

  “If he is involved in drugs, that means his overseas trips were drug-related too. As far as I know, he’s an accountant, but what if he lied? Everything he told me is suspect now.” Tears formed in her eyes as she said that, the stupidity she felt at trusting him overwhelming her.

  Cullen set down his beer and reached over to wipe a tear away as it rolled down her cheek. “You might still get your money back. Don’t lose hope yet.”

  “How? I stupidly gave Jeff signing authority on the account. He told me he intended to pay his share into the account the next day.” She sniffed and released a forceful breath. “I’m obviously thick. Stupid for trusting him.”

  Cullen reached for her hand. He curled their fingers together and stared at her. She sensed this scrutiny, even though Grace kept her gaze downward.

  “Grace, look at me,” Cullen said in a deep voice.

  When she didn’t obey, he used a forefinger to raise her chin. His gaze was intense and bored right into her. She was certain he glimpsed her fragility, the disbelief that Jeff would do this to her. Her hurt. Her rage.

  “Let’s make a deal,” he suggested.

  “What sort of deal?”

  “We both agree not to mention the toerag again, and certainly not while we’re having fun on Stewart Island.”

  Grace dragged in a harsh breath and released it on a long exhalation. This time she met Cullen’s gaze directly. “All right. I agree. Not one mention of Jeff. He is my past, and that is where I must consign him.”

  8

  RELAXING HOLIDAY

  Cullen relaxed fully for the first time in months, this sleepy hamlet the polar opposite of the barren desert region where he’d lived and soldiered only three weeks ago. Color snared his attention in every direction he glanced. The vibrant greens of the native trees and ferns. The turquoise-blue sea. The red-and-white umbrellas shading them from the sun. The white sand and the two toddlers shoveling sand into yellow plastic buckets. Even the scents soothed him: the sea air, the rich aroma of coffee wafting from the restaurant, along with enticing food smells. Fish and chips, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  His attention turned to Grace, and her warm smile, as their gazes connected, twisted yearning in him. Not something he was ready to admit or embrace, but he was aware of the emotion simmering within him—the longing for roots. Security.

  Uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts, he swallowed the last of his beer and stood. “Another drink, or do you want to wander now?”

  “Walk,” Grace said.

  Cullen held out his hand to Grace to help her stand. She hesitated, but he maintained his patience and waited for her to touch him. A long second later, after she’d raked him with her gaze, she placed her hand in his. She gasped at the first contact, but Cullen didn’t let her retreat. Instead, he went for distraction.

  “You have callused hands.”

  “Occupational hazard,” Grace muttered, now standing at his side. She furtively tugged to get him to release her.

  “I’m frightened,” Cullen said. “Please hold my hand until the fear passes.”

  An inelegant snort escaped her. “You’re a soldier. Nothing scares you.”

  “Not true,” Cullen said. “I fear the vehicle I’m in will hit an IED—improvised explosive device,” he explained, “or that a sniper will get in a lucky shot, and I’ll never see you again.” Cullen wondered if he’d gone too far when she frowned at him.

  “Me?”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  “We pretended to be married at the lodge where we’re staying,” he added.

  “I loathe lying.”

  “And yet you didn’t correct the lady.”

  “Having to make the explanation is worse. I come off like a loser, and people feel sorry for me. It was bad enough explaining to the wedding vendors I had to cancel.”

  “Which is a roundabout way of me telling you that fake husbands and wives hold hands and take the physical contact in their stride,” Cullen finished on a triumphant note.

  “Humph!” Grace said. “Let’s check out the shops and the museum before we hit the grocery store.”

  They wander
ed down a side street and passed a café and one or two tour operators before Cullen spotted the one he wanted. “How would you like to do a Nature’s Pantry tour?” he asked. “It’s a three and a half-hour walk through the bush where they show you native plants, which are great for medicinal or culinary purposes.”

  “I saw this tour, but J—the person who was to come with me hates walking.”

  “It sounds like fun to me,” Cullen said. “Let’s see if we can fit a tour into our schedule.”

  They could, and after paying and getting their tickets, Grace pointed out the museum. “It’s brand new and recently opened after they grew out of the old one.”

  “Why don’t we save that for later in the week? In case we have a rainy day,” Cullen suggested.

  Nobody could call the township of Oban large. Cullen retook possession of Grace’s hand, and they wandered onward past a shop selling clothing made of merino wool. They weren’t far from the jetty now, where the ferries disgorged their passengers.

  “That’s where we catch the boat for blue cod fishing,” Grace said.

  “Looking forward to that. I can’t recall the last time I went fishing. Ready to hit the supermarket? It looks as if we’ve covered most of the town.”

  Grace smiled. “I like that it’s not big.”

  In the supermarket, Cullen took custody of a green shopping basket. The aisles weren’t wide, so to his regret, he had to release her hand.

  She scurried ahead, choosing items to place in their basket. Crackers. Cheese. A carton of dip. Crisps. A packet of sweet biscuits. Two bottles of wine and a six-pack of beer. Grace hesitated when they reached the confectionery shelf.

  “Which one is your favorite?” Cullen asked.

  Grace sighed. “Whittaker’s chocolate. I’m a patriotic New Zealander at heart, so I adore their products. No, I won’t get chocolate. I’ve been eating enough lately.”

  “Your favorite?” Cullen reached for a bar of plain milk chocolate and chucked it into the basket. “I haven’t had chocolate for ages.”

  “Berry and biscuit,” she blurted.

  Cullen grabbed one and placed that in their shopping basket too. “We’re going to be busy with lots of outdoor activities. It might be nice to have an energy boost.”

  At the checkout, Grace argued about who was paying.

  “Cupcake,” Cullen said and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. He almost laughed when he noted the widening of her pretty green eyes. The blaze of shock at the intimate caress. “Now that we’re married, we don’t need to argue over who is paying for what.”

  While she was doing a creditable goldfish impression, Cullen pulled his wallet from his pocket and placed four twenties on the counter.

  “Put the change in the charity tin,” Cullen said, gesturing at the small sign beside the till.

  “Thanks,” the male checkout operator said with a smile.

  Grace unfurled the shopping bag she’d placed in her pocket and quickly packed their groceries.

  “Let me carry that,” Cullen said.

  Grace gave the checkout man a rueful smile. “We’d better buy one of your bags. The wine and beer will be heavy.”

  “Brilliant plan,” Cullen said. “I’ll carry those. I bet you’ve forgotten the hill we have to climb before we get back to the lodge.”

  Grace groaned. “Point taken. I’ll work that chocolate off with no trouble walking up and down that peak several times a day.”

  Cullen was used to lugging equipment and belongings up mountains, but Grace’s face turned bright red, and her breaths came in hoarse pants before they reached the top.

  She staggered into their room, and after dropping her bag of shopping on the floor, she fell onto the bed.

  “I assumed I was reasonably fit since I’m on my feet for hours each day. I was wrong,” she said with a gasp. She rolled over onto her back and glared up at him. “Don’t laugh. You’re not even breathing hard. For you, it was an easy stroll down the road.”

  Cullen chuckled at the accusation.

  “I said don’t laugh. If I’ve got sore muscles, I won’t be much fun tomorrow.”

  “You can soak in the bath, and I’ll give you a massage. You’ll be fine.”

  Grace got a peculiar expression on her face, intriguing Cullen and prodding at his curiosity. “Where did your mind go?”

  “Um…” She bit her bottom lip, drawing Cullen’s avid attention.

  “Grace?”

  “I was imagining your hands on me,” she murmured. “Wondering how rough your calluses would feel against my skin.”

  He cocked his head, sensual awareness throbbing to life in him. “You like that idea.”

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “My brain is faulty. You’re younger than me, but I keep forgetting that. Now change the subject before I embarrass myself any further. If I don’t shut up, you’ll be sorry you ever agreed to this farce.”

  “I’m having fun,” Cullen said, which was nothing less than the truth. “Do you want me to run the bath for you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That would be lovely.”

  Cullen wandered away but didn’t let himself smile until his back was to her. Little did Grace know, but he had her in his sights, and if he had his way, there’d be loads of touching and intimacy. This was a great start to their honeymoon—the best.

  He discovered a jar of bath crystals in the bathroom and added a generous handful to the water. They frothed into fragrant bubbles immediately, a light floral scent flooding the bathroom. With the water still running, he returned to Grace.

  “Do you want a glass of bubbles while you’re soaking?”

  “We didn’t buy any.”

  “I packed a bottle in my bag,” he said. “I put it in the fridge while you were unpacking.”

  “That was sneaky. Bubbles sounds lovely.”

  “Get in your bath, and I’ll bring it in for you.”

  She stared at him for a long moment but finally shrugged. Cullen grinned again. It wouldn’t hurt if she let loose and got tiddly.

  He gave her a few minutes before he opened the champagne and poured a glass. “Grace, are you in the bath?”

  “Yes.” Grace’s voice sounded muffled.

  “I’m coming in,” he said, tapping the door and opening it at the same time.

  Grace sat in the tub with bubbles up to her neck when he walked into the bathroom. He smiled, enjoying this intimate moment. The first of many, he hoped. He handed over the wineglass.

  “Sorry about the glass, but our room didn’t come equipped with flutes,” he said.

  Grace sighed. “Thank you. This is so decadent. I never have time for this sort of relaxation. Work is busy, and then there was the wedding plans and organization.”

  Cullen bent over to place his finger across her lips. Her eyes flared with shock, and he fought back a smile. “No mentioning the wedding or the J-word. Okay?” He lifted his digit a fraction.

  “Sorry, it slipped out. The champagne is delicious. I don’t have it often.”

  “Enjoy and take your time. I’m going to sit outside and enjoy the view with a beer. Come and join me when you’re ready.” He started to leave and paused. “Would you like music?”

  “I don’t listen to music often either. That sounds perfect.”

  He nodded. “Won’t be a sec.” He returned in seconds with his phone and chose a quiet playlist. A ballad poured out, and they shared a smile.

  “Thank you, Cullen.”

  “No problem, cupcake.” He left then, grabbed a beer, and settled outside. The late afternoon sun still held warmth, so he whipped off his shirt. Grace had done well choosing the accommodation. This view over Oban and the sea was stunning. He rose to grab his camera and returned to take a couple of photos. After the desert climate where he’d spent the last few months, this was paradise, and he intended to take advantage of every minute.

  A pair of tuis squawked at each other in noisy protest, the territorial birds flapping their wings and
chasing each other from tree to tree. One of the blacky-brown birds, with their distinctive tuft of white throat feathers, gave way and fled to find a more peaceful haven.

  Beyond, in the township and the bay, people and boats arrived and departed. This was a view he could watch for days without becoming bored. He sipped his beer and pondered his next move with Grace, highly satisfied with his progress. This holiday was the best thing to happen to him. Grace, too. He’d needed a sense of purpose, and now all he had to do was capitalize on this opportunity.

  * * * * *

  Jeff stomped into the dingy motel unit and chucked what remained of his possessions on one of the two single beds. The bitch! What the hell had she been thinking? Tossing his stuff out of the house without a by-your-leave. And the way she’d marched into the bedroom and sprayed that crap on him and Julia. Surely, she realized he was a man with needs?

  Grace had suited his purposes because she worked a job that kept her busy. Even better, she’d had a financial cushion. That she’d been rubbish in bed hadn’t bothered him. He’d fucked her once a week and continued hooking up with his current lady friends. He stroked his chin and grinned, an image of Julia sucking him off filling his mind. Suction to rival a vacuum cleaner and the way she’d taken him so deep down her throat. Man, he didn’t regret bedding Julia for one moment.

  His grin fled as Grace slipped back into his mind.

  The bitch.

  Because of her, he had his associates on his tail, and if they caught him, he didn’t fancy his chances of escaping with his life. It was Grace’s bloody fault for placing him in this position, and he would not let her get away with kicking him out of her home.

  He’d had a good thing going with Grace, and he refused to let her screw up his life.

  But what to do?

  His statues had disappeared.

  With the help of his hidden camera, he’d tracked down most of the people who’d grabbed his gear. He’d retrieved one statue, and he’d approach the man who’d grabbed two more tomorrow. Given the camera angle, it’d proved challenging to work out which two of the four statues they’d taken. One of his four gnomes was still missing.