Page 18 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)

Dancing Lights

T he sky is bright as the lights dance overhead. The air is crisp but the blankets and mulled wine stave off the cold as I sit out on the deck of the cottage with my wife.

My wife.

Strange how those two words fill me with a sense of satisfaction. It must be knowing that I did something my own way. Getting married wasn’t my choice, but I got to decide exactly who, exactly when, exactly where.

When I was a boy, I imagined my wedding—odd as it may seem.

I was dragged to so many society weddings with my parents, like an accessory, rather than their son.

They were all precisely the same. Extravagant trappings, pretentious food, free-flowing alcohol.

It was about the clothes, the display, the spectacle, not about the actual couple.

I hated it, swore when it was my time, it would be different—I was nine and didn’t know any better.

The ceremony was brief—very no nonsense, like my bride.

But the setting was ethereal, surrounded by the natural beauty of the park.

Not a single piece of tulle or silk in sight.

It was like something from Tolkien. I felt as if I were the heroic knight.

That I’d come to this magical glen for a secret marriage to the fair princess before riding off to war .

Fantastical thoughts. Silly even. But our wedding was as close to my childhood dream as possible.

Nic splays across the Adirondack chair next to mine. Wrapped in a blanket, knees slung over the wooden arm, she looks deep in thought but happy. Her diamond catches the fairy lights outside the cabin as she cups her mug of wine.

A flash of guilt sinks in my gut. I should have told her about the money first, like I’d planned. I could say I tried, but I certainly could have tried harder. When Nic got excited, I let myself be swept up in it.

Divorce isn’t an option for me. I mean, legally, sure, but I made a vow to Nic and I plan to hold to it.

I’d be an idiot to let her walk away. Her charm and easy nature perfectly balance my lack of personality. She is a much more strategic choice for me and the Bancroft line than any title-hungry social climber my parents would have chosen.

Someday my mother will see that.

What I mean to say, is that I do not expect a situation where the prenup would have been necessary, but I still wish I’d given Nic all the information before she made her choice. Starting a marriage with a lie, even a lie of omission, is an ominous beginning.

“So, my lord. How’s married life so far?” My lower stomach clenches. I’ve always hated it, but I could get used to hearing her say it.

“No complaints so far. But maybe give it a couple more hours.”

“Rude!” She flails one long limb to kick my shin.

I chuckle. “You knew that about me. Buyer’s remorse, already, Lady Ravenscourt?”

She shakes her head. “Is that what I am now? Lady Ravenscourt?”

“Technically, the Viscountess Ravenscourt, or informally simply Lady Ravenscourt. When my father dies, it’ll be Countess Silverbrook. Does it really matter to you?”

“No.” Her cheeks darken in the dim light. “Actually, I was thinking about keeping my maiden name if it’s all the same.”

“Because of your business?”

“That, but mostly for my father. His last name is all I have left of him. I’ve recovered some of my mother’s childhood items from my grandmother’s house, but everything of my father’s was lost.”

“I’m so sorry. You were young when they died, right?” She nods. “What was it like with them?”

“It was amazing as a kid. I told you my father was an artist. He worked on these incredibly detailed animations for a studio in America. Mom stayed home with me and taught the neighborhood kids piano lessons for some extra money. I remember the house was always full of laughter and music. And so much color.”

That sounds amazing. What would it be like to grow up in a family like that? With warmth and shared interest? “That must have been quite the shock after you moved in with your grandmother.”

She gives a dry snort. “You could say that. She wasted no time shipping me off to boarding school. Boy, was I a regular fish out of water! It was Paris, though, so I found an artist community like back home. I made it work.”

“I can see that. You’re incredibly strong, Nic. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”

She looks away, her shoulders hunching. I have no idea what I said to upset her, but I find myself wishing I could take the hurt in her eyes away. I scan our surroundings as I search for something to say to restore the lighter mood. Overhead, the aurora borealis dances, giving me inspiration.

“Aren’t the lights beautiful? There are many legends about them.

Some say they are a bad omen, others the tails of giant arctic foxes.

Most say they are souls. My favorite myth is Norse in origin.

King Oden sent his Valkyries to lead fallen warriors to Valhalla.

The lights are reflections off the armor of these fierce women. ”

“Why is that your favorite?” I glance at her, but her eyes focus on the flowing colors above.

“It’s a story about your worth being defined by your actions, not by the clothes you wear or the things you buy. Rushing headfirst into battle wasn’t enough, you had to earn it with your honor. Every man had an equal chance of being found worthy.”

“That does sound nice.” With a slight gasp, she springs to her feet and runs towards the door.

“Nic? What is it?” Carefully putting down my mug, I rise to follow her, only for her to appear again in the doorway. “Everything alright?”

“You inspired me to take a picture. Stand right there by the railing.” She fusses with the back of the camera.

Wadding up her blanket, she sets it as a cushion on the chair and balances the camera with the lens pointing up at me.

With the click of a button, she rushes over to me, grabbing my shoulders and positioning me how she wants.

“Hold still, it’s only a ten-second timer. ”

Her eyes reflect the green lights above as I stare into them. Steam rises between us from our breath in the cool night air. She’s so beautiful. I lean forward… CLICK.

Rocking back, she dives for the camera and checks the screen, tsking. “Not quite right. Your jacket is too bulky. Take it off.” She’s pulling her chunky sweater off as well.

“Pardon? Do you realize how cold it is out here? Do you want me to freeze my bits off? It is technically our wedding night—and you want me to spend it with frozen balls.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughs, “I’ll warm up your balls when we get inside.” Her sultry voice is enough to ensure blood flow stays squarely in my groin, avoiding any further danger of sperm-cicles. “This one is going to capture longer. You need to hold completely still.”

She squints at me, then up at the sky. Her eyes widen and she rushes back inside, reappearing with a tiny stool which she places in front of me. Flitting back to her camera, she double-checks the angle, clicks the button, then rushes to step up.

I look up at her, waiting for directions.

She bends at the waist until her lips are a whisper’s breath away. Her hands hover just beyond my shoulders, like she’s frozen, reaching for me.

I stare into her eyes. Everything else fades away as emotions dance like the lights overhead.

My breaths come faster, the steam rising again.

We don’t move, don’t say a word. Simply stand inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes as the seconds drone on.

I’ve never felt something so intimate before.

No parts of our bodies are touching, but I can sense her within me.

A feeling in my chest builds, one I have no name for.

CLICK.

Nic blinks, then dives for the camera to check the shot. She’s beaming as she looks up at me. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She slinks up to me all sex and confidence. “Come on, hubby, a promise is a promise. Let’s go defrost the family jewels.”