Chapter 30
Brody
"You chartered a helicopter?" Lark stares down at the passing countryside covered in white. Luckily, the snow had stopped by the time we reached the helipad. Visibility was good so our pilot had clearance to take off.
We’re in the passenger cabin, separated from the cockpit and insulated against the engine and rotor noise.
We changed our clothes into something more suitable for traveling in a side room at the Town Hall. We’re also wearing noise-cancelling headsets with voice-activated microphones, so we can talk easily.
"It was my conversation with Arthur that gave me the idea,” I admit.
“Oh?” She looks at me with curiosity.
“He told me to not waste any more time.”
His exact words were, ‘If you want to spend time alone with your wife, then you should follow your heart.’ I took him at his word and ordered the chopper.
I also asked for our bags to be unloaded from the car and moved to the helicopter.
I intended to take her on our honeymoon after the reception. But I couldn’t wait to be alone with her. With snow falling, and a blizzard on the way, it made sense to leave early and fly out before it hit.
"He was okay with us skipping the reception at his place?" She leans back in her seat.
"He didn’t protest." I reach out to take her hand in mine. "I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you first. I figured you wouldn’t mind getting out of there without having to attend the reception."
She purses her lips. "It would have been good to spend more time with my parents."
When I stiffen, she throws me a sideways glance. "Kidding. No, I didn’t want to be quizzed further by my parents. They met you. They got to attend the wedding. As did my friends. And your grandfather. As far as they’re concerned, we’re married. No one can refute that.”
I rub my thumb over her knuckles. She shivers. And that pleases me enormously. I want her to be aware of me.
I want her to feel as affected by my nearness as I am by hers.
"I’m sorry I put you in that spot. I’d have wanted a little more time for us to get to know each other before the wedding.
But the invitations had gone out, and your parents were planning to come, and since Arthur was pressuring me too, it made sense to do it now. "
She nods, a fold between her eyebrows hinting that her mind is preoccupied.
"What are you thinking?"
She hesitates. “Thanks for not telling my parents about my ex cheating on me. I—”
“I will always be in your corner.” I squeeze her hand.
She swallows. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Our gazes catch. The air between us sparks with awareness. Her eyes are shadowed.
"You can share anything with me, Siren.”
Her lips part. She glances to the side. "I married you because I wanted my ex to feel like he was losing out. And because I didn’t want my parents and my friends to think of me as a loser."
"And I married you so I could inherit." I twist my lips. "It seems to me that I win this challenge."
She chuckles, some of the tension going out of her shoulders.
I lean in, my voice rough. “I’m serious. When I imagine waking up next to you every morning—your hair a mess, your skin warm from sleep—it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels…like home.”
Her throat moves as she swallows, and I continue.
"I also married you because I'm very attracted to you. In a way I haven’t been to anyone else before. Because when I see you, I can’t stop myself from touching you, holding you, and kissing you.
Because my body yearns for you in a way that takes me by surprise.
Because I want you, Lark. I want to make love to you.
More than that, I want to possess you. I want to make you mine. Completely."
Her cheeks turn pink.
"But you know that already."
“Five minutes to landing.” The pilot’s voice cuts in on a different channel through the headphones.
I hold her gaze as the helicopter begins to descend. Within minutes, we’re landing in the garden behind the homestead my family has owned for generations.
The rotors slow until they come to a stop. Then the pilot turns and gives us a thumbs-up through the glass wall separating the cabins.
“Safe to disembark.”
He steps out of the cockpit and walks past us to pull the door open and lower the steps. I’m up and moving toward it immediately.
“Thanks, man.” I shake the pilot’s hand.
“Need help with the bags?” He gestures toward our suitcases, stored in the compartment behind the cockpit.
"I got this. You'd better head back before the weather gets worse." I grab both suitcases and walk down the retractable steps. I place the luggage on the grass, turn and help my wife down the steps.
I wave at the pilot, then grab the bags and head toward the stately Victorian building. Behind us, the chopper starts up again.
I walk up the path that curves into shadow, tall trees pressing in close, dusted with snow. There’s a hush in the woods you get after snowfall, like the land itself is holding its breath.
A few hundred yards in, we pass rows of firs like soldiers under starlight, tips frosted.
I glance at Lark.
She’s stopped walking. And stares. Mouth parted. “Is that”—she shakes her head—"are those Christmas trees?"
"My great-grandmother planted them."
"They’re beautiful." Her voice is hushed.
She didn’t get to do any Christmas things because I was a Grinch. Then her ex cheated on her, and she ended up marrying a guy with no use for Christmas. But I don’t want her to miss out on her favorite part of the year. The least I can do is give her Christmas, in my own way.
“We can pick one tomorrow if you want to decorate. There’s a box of ornaments inside,” I say without taking my gaze off her flushed features.
"That would be amazing." Her eyes shine.
Behind us, the helicopter takes off. The downwash stirs pine needles and lifts the hair on my head.
The whup-whup-whup of its blades fades as it recedes into the distance.
Now it’s just us. Peace envelops me. Tension I didn’t realize I’d been carrying fades from my shoulders. We keep walking.
The path opens up into a clearing, and there it is: the chalet that’s been in my family for generations.
Glass and timber, pale stone and golden light glowing from inside.
The lake stretches out behind it like a sheet of obsidian, the late afternoon light reflecting off the surface.
There’s steam curling from the outdoor hot tub on the deck.
And through the window, I catch sight of the fire, already lit.
“Jesus,” she breathes.
It was worth having the caretaker go that extra mile. I make a note to transfer a hefty tip into his account.
“I wanted you to feel like you’ve stepped out of the world,” I murmur. “Just for a while.”
We reach the steps of the chalet.
She tucks her hair behind one ear and looks up at the house. “It’s beautiful." Her eyes are wide with disbelief.
"It belonged to my great-great-grandfather. Been in my family for generations."
I key in the password on the panel next to the door. The door clicks open. The caretaker should have stocked the refrigerator and the pantry, lit the fires in the living and bedroom, and made sure there's a supply of wood to last us through the stay.
I drop the bags inside the house, then straighten and step back outside.
"Hold on." I scoop her up in my arms and step over the threshold.
"Ohmigod," she squeaks. "That’s so romantic."
"I aim to please." I hook my ankle around the door to swing it shut behind me. Can’t risk the cold getting in. Then head for the staircase.
"This is beautiful." She takes in the spacious hallway.
Through the doorway on the left is the sitting room with its cozy furniture and the dancing flames throwing light over the walls.
Warmth envelops us. Along with the scent of cedar, smoke, and pine. Lark’s eyes search mine. “You did all this for me?”
“I did it for us.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. Her breath hitches. "That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"And I’m only starting." I hold her gaze, wanting to bend and capture her mouth. But if I did, I’d be sidetracked. Once I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop. And I don’t want that to happen…yet. I want to make sure I get her settled in first.
I force myself to look away and focus on my steps.
Reaching the first-floor landing, I head past the guest bedroom and toward the main bedroom. I shoulder open the doors and, walking halfway to the bed, stop and lower her to her feet.
“This is amazing.” She clasps her fingers together and takes in the room. A large bed faces the fireplace. To one side, a wall of windows overlooks the lake, the view framed by thick curtains.
The fire crackles warmly, surrounded by a seating area with a couch and two armchairs.
A shelf of books lines the wall beside the fireplace, with a small table and chair beside it forming a cozy workspace.
The décor is masculine yet warm. There are deep carpets underfoot, and soft light spills in from the windows and from the lamps switched on around the room.
Then her brow wrinkles. "We’re sharing a bedroom?"
"Did you think we wouldn’t?"
I slide a hand inside my pocket, watching her gaze bounce around the space.
Then she steps toward the window and peers outside.
The chalet is in Lechlade, bordering the Cotswolds Hills, which can be seen in the distance.
The clouds are heavy with the promise of more snow.
She wraps her arms around her waist and shivers. It’s both beautiful and cold out there.
"There’s a storm coming." I walk over to stand next to her.
"Is that why you hustled us onto the helicopter?"
"I wanted to get here before it broke." I wrap my arm about her shoulders and pull her to me.
She instantly melts into my side.
Her jasmine and coconut scent teases my nostrils and tightens my balls.
It feels like there are little sparks of fire flickering through my bloodstream.
Damn. This woman drives me crazy. As if she senses how close I am to throwing her down on the bed and making love to her, she looks up at me from under her heavy eyelids. "I can’t believe we’re married."
"Believe it." I bend and take her lips, tasting her, sharing her breath, squeezing my arms around her and pulling her close, so every inch of her is plastered to me. By the time I step back, she’s flushed and panting. There’s a dazed look in her eyes which makes my lips twitch.
A sense of satisfaction fills my chest. She’s my wife. Mine.
I release her and step away, because to not do so would mean giving into the basest of my urges.
"You’ll find swimsuits and bathrobes in the closet. Why don’t you get changed and meet me at the hot tub?"