Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
brONWYN
Pippa returns to the compound, accompanied by her tiny baby, after only a couple of days.
Their presence spurred Saint into action to finish building their house a couple of hundred yards behind the clubhouse.
For now, Jade sleeps in a bassinet in their room.
I have to wonder how a baby crying at all hours is going down with the rest of the men who live alongside them, especially as their neighbours are the club’s top officers.
The lineup now includes Piston, who, when Short had moved out, had drawn straws with Stalker and won the rights to my man’s vacated room.
It wouldn’t surprise me to discover my theory was right, that Bullseye, Freak, Tempest, and Piston had ganged up on the VP.
Something had definitely given him the much-needed kick up the ass to roll up his sleeves and get the new family’s residence completed fast. It had only needed decorating, carpet fittings, and the new furniture they’d already ordered delivered and put into place.
Delayed because the master of organisation went into labour a week too soon.
Finish it, he did. And today, seven days after Pippa and Jade came home, the club is holding a joint baby welcome and housewarming party.
In the clubroom, of course, Pippa doesn’t need a mess in her new house.
I think some of the loudest cheers, when the guests of the hour enter, are from the men previously living in close proximity to Saint.
Stalker is particularly happy that he’s moving into Saint’s room at last.
After the presents have all been opened and admired, or laughed at with some of the slogans adorning Jade’s new clothes, I notice Short leaves me and makes his way over to where his prez is talking to his VP.
Nursing my wine, my eyes are drawn to him, idly wondering what they’re discussing, particularly when Bullseye slaps Short’s back, and Saint shakes his hand before pulling him in for a man hug.
Then Short starts making his way back, but halts in the middle of the clubroom. At a gesture from Bullseye, the music is suddenly turned off. The abrupt change in the atmosphere halts all conversations and has brothers looking around, as if wondering whether there’s a threat.
“Bronwyn, come here,” Short calls out.
That, of course, gets curious eyes on me. While hating being the centre of attention, I’ve no recourse other than to obey. When I’m standing in front of him, he falls to his knees. My eyes widen, wondering what the hell he’s doing.
“Bronwyn, I’m taking advantage of all our brothers being here today.
” Whatever he wants to say, I just wish he’d get on with it.
I shuffle my feet, becoming more embarrassed by the minute.
“I think I fell in love with you the moment you came to the club. I couldn’t act on it then, as a few brothers saw and warned me away. ”
“Believe I did, Brother.” Saint’s voice rings out, breaking the tension and causing a few laughs.
“You were too young, too innocent for a jaded brother like me. So, I tried to keep my distance. But then you came to me to claim the help I’d offered you, and introduced me to Trip.
I saw you, not as a pure girl who should be placed on a pedestal and left untouched, but as a strong woman, who could stand by my side.
“You’re my ol’ lady, you wear my patch. Now, in front of my club, my brothers, I want to ask you to become my wife.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a ring box, and shows it to me.
The ring is not overly flashy or ornate, traditional if you like, a single, not-unsubstantial cushion-cut diamond set in a simple gold band. Practical, and just the type I’d have chosen for myself.
My voice has deserted me. I thought being his old lady was enough. I didn’t even know bikers did traditional marriage. But him asking, and so publicly, has such an effect on me, I feel weak at the knees.
It’s his public declaration of love, a commitment in the civilian world for life.
“Fuck, Bronwyn, you’re worrying me.” Short starts to frown.
It’s the impetus I need to throw myself at him. “Yes, a hundred times yes.” It’s then he slides the ring on my finger, and how he found out my size, I’ll never know, but it’s exactly right. Pulling my hand back, all I can do for a moment is admire the new weight on my hand.
Short doesn’t let me admire it for long. While a chorus of congratulations ring out around us, he pulls me to him and places what I can only describe as a kiss of claiming on my lips. He devours me, pulling me back over his arm, ravishing my mouth in a way that borders on indecent.
Everything else disappears around me. All I can feel is him, all I can see is my amazing man, and all I breathe is air tinged with his scent.
As the shouts and foot stamps eventually die out, Short at last loosens his hold on me, but it’s only to hold out his arm, and to let a laughing Trip run into our huddle.
“There’s one thing more,” Short states, looking earnestly at me. “I want to adopt Trip officially. Make him mine for real.”
Now I’m crying. Happy tears for once, but they still streak down my cheeks as I hug both my man, my husband-to-be, and my son to me. “Yes,” I reply, when I’m capable of speaking.
As if on cue, Jade lets out a loud cry. It’s like she’s annoyed that the attention has been taken off her. It breaks the tension and makes people laugh.
Short stands, one hand held out to me, the other to Trip, as he pulls us both up. “Now you'd better start planning a wedding.”
“Can I have the floor now?” Saint’s voice rings out. “Pippa, get your ass over here.”
His woman gets up, passes Jade to a more-than-willing-to-hold-her Trixie, then goes to stand by her man.
“You better not be doing what I think you are,” she hisses, but loud enough for us all to hear.
Saint obviously isn’t going to pour his heart out the way Short did for me, as he simply produces a ring from his pocket and says, “Was planning to do this, but fuckin’ Short got in before me. Now all I need to hear from you is a yes.” He flicks the box open and holds it toward her.
“Seeing as you’ve already bought the rock, I don’t see I have much choice in the matter.” She pulls the box toward her, brings out the ring that has diamonds and emeralds in it, and slides it on her own finger. “Satisfied?”
Saint snorts. “I take it you’re agreeing to be my wife.”
“Only if you don’t fuck things up.”
“Oh, babe. I’m sure to do that. Every day of the week and twice on Sundays.” He grins at her. “But just think of all the make-up sex we can have.”
That seems to strike a chord with her, as her face brightens up. “How could I turn down an offer like that?”
I can’t remember if I ever dreamed of getting married as a young girl.
By the time I was eight years old, any thoughts of a happy matrimony had been snatched from me.
I never spent time imagining a handsome prince whisking me away, or a wedding day full of silk and lace trimmings.
I hadn’t the first idea where to start planning our special day, where it would be held, or who would officiate the ceremony.
But even if I had no inkling myself, it seemed like there were many around me who were more than willing to help.
Pippa made the great suggestion that we have a joint ceremony here at the club.
A biker wedding, which I couldn’t even envisage.
Short was worried I was getting swept along by the tide, but when I explained to him that I had no dreams to fulfil, and that I wouldn’t be disappointed with anything she proposed, he stopped worrying.
It’s four weeks later, and I and my fellow bride are getting ready in Bullseye’s room, easily the biggest in the clubhouse.
Pippa’s dress is a goth version of a wedding gown, black satin covered in black lace.
I’ve gone with the traditional white, but instead of a bridal style, it’s a plain sheath that hugs me and makes the best of my curves, emphasising the features that had made my dad put me on a diet, but which my fiancé loves.
With no fathers to give us away, Pippa and I walk together down the aisle, through all the chairs, hired in for the ceremony, and toward an archway of flowers, set up in the newly mowed grounds to the back of the clubhouse.
The sound of bikes arriving has been going on for hours, and I’m amazed at the number of men who’ve by now taken their seats. As we slowly proceed to the traditional notes of the wedding march, I have time to glance around, amazed at what I see.
There’s Lunatic and Hardcore, and another couple of brothers I don’t recognise, one in particular looking forbidding and stern.
The famous Big Daddy? It could be. Behind them sit Rhino, Token, and a rather dazed-looking Blitz, so I assume they’ve flown in from Georgia again.
And as if that isn’t enough, on the other side of the aisle sit the Texas brothers, Renegade, Rebel, Hazard, and LoneStar, who’s got his Stetson perched on his head.
Men, sitting behind him, wearing Kings of Anarchy cuts, whom I don’t recognise, complain that his hat blocks their view.
By the time I come level with him, with a scowl, he’s removed it and is holding it in his lap.
As my head swivels again, I see more men who are familiar.
Bigfoot, Prez of the New Mexico chapter, who’s sitting with an arm around a woman.
If I remember rightly from the conversations around the club, she must be Sammie, his old lady.
Next to them sits Baffle, with his own old lady, Nell.
There’s also Jester, Grease, and a guy who looks just like him, who I assume is his brother, Glitch, and Dime.
Only Smooth is missing from the guys who’d ridden to help us kick the asses of the men the MDMC had sent.
Wryly, I think with the numbers present, today’s not going to be the day anyone fucks with the Kings.