Chapter 48
Harper
After that meeting, Margot joins us for dinner. Thankfully, not in the big dining room, but in a smaller family room adjoining the conservatory.
James leads me to a chair in the middle of the oval-shaped table and sits down next to me.
Tristan is seated next to me.
Phoenix and her husband Connor Davenport face me.
Gideon, Beckett and Briar take up the remaining seats.
Rowan had a work emergency and sent his apologies. As for Lachlan, he’s away on another trip with Doctors Without Borders. But my husband told me that he messaged, to say he was sorry he couldn’t make it.
When the waitstaff come by to fill up our water glasses, James takes the carafe from them and tops up my glass.
Margot finally takes her seat. That’s when the waitstaff begin to pour the wine. "Red or white madam?" one of them asks me.
"I’ll do it." My husband takes the bottle of white, looks at it, and shakes his head. "Not this one. Get the New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc; that’s what my wife likes."
My heart melts a little. He really has clocked what I like. It also makes me feel a little unbalanced. First, he’d apologized for Margot. Then, almost kissed me in his room. Now, this… It’s almost as if he cares for me.
Which he does. In his own way. Perhaps, I’ve always known that. But he’s actually showing it to me through actions. That’s something I didn’t think would ever happen. It’s what I yearned for all those years when I romanticized the thought of him as my dream man.
A sudden lump of emotion crowds my throat. I look away.
"Are you okay?" James murmurs.
"Very much." I take a sip of my water.
"He’s taking care of you?" Tristan nods in my husband’s direction.
"He’s definitely trying his best."
"It takes him a while to trust people." Tristan reaches for his glass of red wine.
"Is that how he was growing up, too?"
Tristan hesitates. "He was more open. More hopeful. Going into the Marines changed him."
"It’s why you didn’t want him to join?" I guess.
Tristan’s gaze darts to mine. "He told you that?"
I nod.
First surprise, then understanding filters into his eyes. "He has feelings for you." He looks delighted by it.
"Umm, I wouldn’t go that far." A flush steals up my cheek. I look down at my plate trying not to show the emotions that churn in my belly.
Tristan is the only person at this table, aside from James and me, who knows the true state of our relationship.
But in this? No, he’s mistaken. James may have begun to thaw enough to show the more caring side of his nature toward me.
But that doesn’t mean he loves me. He might never find it in himself to love me, given how closed off he is.
How much in control he likes to be. Like even showing a hint of his needs makes him vulnerable.
I know him enough to understand that he hates that.
"Hmph." Tristan firms his lips. "It seems news of your wedding has definitely calmed the investors."
I nod, relieved that he changed the subject. "James mentioned that they backed off as soon as he sent them the wedding certificate." The fact that the bookings at The Edge have picked up again and that we have no free tables for the next three months could have helped. My chest fills with pride.
Yes, agreeing to a fake wedding helped with the first. But it’s my hard work, the long days and treading a steep learning curve to upgrade my cooking skills, which has contributed to the second. I can take credit for both.
"Stop monopolizing my wife." James puts his arm around my shoulders and draws me as close as our chairs will allow.
I’m so surprised that a laugh bursts out of me.
"Stop it." I pat his massive chest.
"Can’t. I miss touching you." I swing my head around and stare into his eyes. And the genuineness in them makes my pulse skitter. Oh God. James being charming to me is lethal. I don’t stand a chance.
I feel myself drawn into the depths of those azure blue eyes.
Another flush steals up my face. These Hamilton men are a hazard. They should come with a warning sign.
"Aww, you guys are so cute together." Phe beams at us from across the table.
Connor puts his arm around Phe and kisses the top of her head.
"Not like the two of you ever stopped snuggling up to each other." Gideon’s voice is half admiring, half envious.
"Something for you to look forward to." Margot narrows her gaze on her grandson.
"Let me enjoy my freedom." Gideon lowers his chin in mock surrender.
"You’ve managed to get the oldest brother here married off. Why not take the time to enjoy your victory, Mother?" Tristan reaches for his glass of wine.
"You’re next in line, dear." Margot’s tone is saccharine sweet.
Tristan chokes on his wine. He sets down his glass and dabs his lips with his napkin. "How did I come next? It should be Gideon who's next."
"No, I should have turned my sights on you first, but never too late." Margot’s eyes gleam. I can literally sense her mind racing ahead as she plots how to get Tristan married off. The woman’s formidable.
God forbid whoever comes up against her in the boardroom.
Margot looks around the table. There’s no need for her to clink a glass to draw everyone’s attention. It’s clear that she’s the matriarch, and we are here to do her bidding.
The waitstaff bring in the first course: a fresh Dorset crab, avocado, shaved fennel, and micro herbs with a light citrus vinaigrette.
It’s delicious. And I’m suddenly hungry. I inhale it. Then realize James’ gaze is on me. I look up at him. "What?"
"You have something here—" He reaches over and scoops up the morsel which must have been sticking to the corner of my mouth.
Goosebumps erupt on my skin. My stomach clenches. That was…not necessarily seductive, but oh God, it's a gesture that definitely seduced me.
And when he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it, heat flushes my skin. My heart stutters.
He’s not supposed to make gestures that leave me faint. And hot. I raise my napkin and dab at my upper lip. "Is it hot in here?"
"You’re hot, Ember."
My flush deepens. "Stop. You’re…making me blush."
"And you look more beautiful when you do." My pulse rate picks up further. I shoot him a sideways glance, to find he’s looking at me with a half admiring, half loving look. What is he up to… Why is he…oh. Oh.
He’s performing for his family and, especially for Margot.
Some of my apprehension fades.
I decide to play along.
"I love it when you praise me." I tip up my chin. "And even more when you take care of me."
His eyes flash. The tendons of his throat move.
Then he rubs his fingers over the top of my arm.
It feels like he’s branding me with his warmth and arousing me at the same time.
It also feels so good to be held so close to him.
To be the cynosure of his attention without having to vie for it with the rest of the brigade.
His gaze drops to my mouth. He begins to lower his head, when the waitstaff replace the plates in front of us with the main course.
He gets an herb-crusted lamb loin with spring vegetables and rosemary jus, and for me, it’s pan-seared sea bass with fennel, citrus and olive oil.
"I know you prefer not to eat meat."
I have no problem cooking it. I simply find it too heavy and prefer not to eat it, if I have a choice. I didn’t think he’d noticed it, but I should know by now that my husband misses very little about me.
"Thank you." I smile at him with gratitude. "Your dish does look good, though."
He scoops up some of the vegetables with rosemary jus and offers it to me. "Try it."
I open my mouth, and he slides the fork between my lips. I lick it off the tines. The rosemary bursts with flavor on my tongue. The vegetables are fresh and crispy. And James Hamilton feeding me in front of his family? It adds a certain edge to the flavor.
I’m aware of Tristan smiling next to me. Of Phe clasping her hands in delight. And Gideon and Beckett watching us with surprise on their faces.
"It’s good to see James and Harper happily married." Margot’s voice cuts through the room.
James’ expression shutters. He slowly places the fork down, and reaching for his glass of red wine, takes a sip.
I sense the tension radiating off of him. My chest tightens with empathy. I place my hand on his powerful thigh and squeeze. The muscles turn to stone, then slowly relax.
I glance up at him and find his gaze fixed on Margot, his expression one of polite interest.
"I’d like to welcome Harper to the family." She nods at me. Something as close to approval, if I could call it that, clings to her features. "As for you James, you delivered on your part of the deal. And now I must deliver on mine."
Every muscle in James’ body turns to stone. But his face doesn’t show any change. His self-restraint is admirable.
"As of half an hour ago, your inheritance has been signed over to you." She raises her glass. "Use it wisely."
We’re in the car headed home from dinner.
"Are you happy?" I shoot him a sideways glance.
He raises his gaze from his phone. "You mean because of the inheritance?"
I nod.
He puts his phone away, then glances out the window, getting his thoughts in order.
"I thought I’d be excited, even elated, to receive my inheritance so I can use it to expand the business, but can I be honest?"
"Of course."
He turns to me.
"The money coming in is good, but it feels empty."
I frown.
"Yeah, I know. This is what I’ve been waiting for most of my adult life. And now, it feels anticlimactic."
His eyes turn haunted. "The money doesn’t change the fact that I will always be the boy who was given up because his parents didn’t want him.
It won’t bring back the brothers I lost while on mission.
I thought it might—" He hesitates. "That it might make me feel a little happier. Maybe it would settle something inside of me. But it hasn’t. "
The downward droop of his mouth punches the air from my lungs.
This isn't the Ice Commander. This isn't the perfectionist chef who terrorizes his kitchen. This is the lost boy underneath, who’s still waiting. Still hoping that someday, his birth family will want him back.
My throat tightens.
He never had control over that, did he? Being abandoned. Being given away. It was not his choice. Not his fault. And then he joined the forces, where every decision was made for him. Where orders were absolute. Where autonomy meant nothing, and obedience meant survival.
No wonder, he's built his entire life around control. No wonder, he grips it so tightly, he's strangling everything around him. His kitchen, his staff, this marriage, me. Restraint. Discipline. That’s the only thing that's ever been his.
It's not about being difficult. It's not about being cold.
It's about never, ever being powerless again.
My heart cracks open for him. For the boy who wasn't wanted. For the soldier who couldn't question orders. For the man who's so terrified of losing control that he can't let anyone close enough to matter.
Including his own wife.
"James," I say softly.
He doesn’t answer.
His shoulders draw back. The expression on his face empties as that familiar mask settles over him again.
The walls go up.
The lost boy I glimpsed only moments ago disappears.
The Ice Commander returns.
The shift is so swift, it almost steals my breath. He’s not going to let me in. Not easily.
But I’m not giving up, either.
We’re sitting close enough that his thigh presses against mine. The warmth of him seeps through the fabric. I breathe in the faint scent of sea salt and leather that clings to his skin.
My stomach flutters. My chest tightens.
I want to comfort him. I want to take whatever weight he carries and ease it somehow.
I lift my hand, brushing my fingertips over his cheek.
For a second, I expect him to pull away.
He doesn’t.
To my surprise, he turns his head slightly, leaning into the touch as though he’s been starved of it.
My palm settles against his chest. Beneath it, his heart beats hard and fast, betraying the calm exterior he’s fighting to maintain.
So much emotion churns beneath that controlled surface.
I sense his need for me. More than he will ever admit.
But I feel it.
Without letting myself think further, I lean forward. And press my lips to his.