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Thomas Bennett, my precious and loving father, had sent Ethan Blackstone to find me in London so he could rescue me. I now had the rest of my life to be thankful for that fact.
Thank you, Daddy. I looked at the little girl in the painting and felt the connection with her, even with centuries between us. I hoped that Sir Jeremy Greymont’s daughter had enjoyed many long years of knowing her father. Twenty-five years was the amount of time I had been given with mine, and I must accept it with grace for the priceless gift it was.
I refused to be sad in thinking of my dad on my wedding day. He was only a happy thought for me now. He loved me and I loved him. He was still with me somehow, and I was still with him, and nothing could ever take that away from either of us.
? “Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them, okay?” I parked the car and went over to Brynne’s side to help her out. “No peeking, Mrs. Blackstone, I want to do this right.”
“Eyes are closed, Mr. Blackstone,” she said, standing before me. “My package. Give it to me, please.”
I retrieved it from the seat and placed it carefully in her hands. It was light, just a flat black box tied with a silver ribbon. “Ready?”
“I am,” she said.
“Okay, keep them closed, and I’m going to pick you up and carry you.”
“Sounds very traditional,” she said.
“I like to think of myself as a traditional guy, baby.” I scooped her up, careful to arrange her dress so it wouldn’t drag, and started walking up the gravel drive of Stonewell Court. The rocks crunched under my feet and you could hear the sound of the waves on the rocks far below us. It looked amazing and I hoped she liked it. The whole place was lit with torches in old urns, and candles glowing inside glass luminaria on the ground. Even the upper suite was lit up from the inside. Our wedding-night suite.
“I can hear the ocean,” she said up against me, one hand on the back of my neck lightly caressing back and forth.
“Mmm-hmm.” I stopped at what I felt was the perfect place for the unveiling. “Okay, we have arrived at our nuptial destination, Mrs. Blackstone. I’m going to set you down so you can get the full effect,” I warned before tilting her down to stand on her own. I faced her toward the house and covered her eyes gently with my hands.
“I want to look. Are we sleeping here?”
“Not sure how much sleeping we’ll be doing . . . but we will be here tonight.” I kissed her on the back of the neck and took my hands away. “For you, my beauty. You can open your eyes now.”
“Stonewell Court. I thought this is where we were. I remember the smell of the sea and the sound of the gravel when we walked here. It’s so beautiful I—I can’t believe all this.” She opened her arms. “Who did this for us?”
She still doesn’t understand. I brought my hands to her shoulders and kissed her neck from behind. “Hannah, mostly. She’s been trying to work a miracle for me.”
“Well, I think she has succeeded. It takes my breath away.” She turned to face me. “It’s the perfect place for us to spend our wedding night,” she said, leaning into my body.
I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly, surrounded by the glow of torches and the ocean breeze. “Do you like it?”
“I more than like it. I love that we get to be here.” She turned bac
k around and leaned into me again and looked at the house some more.
“I’m very glad about that, Mrs. Blackstone, because after we were here together I couldn’t get this place out of my head. I wanted to bring you back here. The inside needs some attention, but the bones are good and the foundation stone-solid, perched up here on the rocks. This house has been here a long time and hopefully it will still be here a long time from now.”
I slipped the small envelope from my pocket and brought it around to hold in front of her so she could see it.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s your wedding present. Open it.”
She opened the flap and tipped the odd assortment into her hand—some modern, some very old. “Keys?” She turned around, her eyes wide with shock. “You bought the house?!”
I couldn’t hold back my grin. “Not exactly.” I turned her to face the house again, drawing my arms around her from behind and resting my chin on the top of her head. “I bought us a home. For you and me, and for peaches, and any other raspberries or blueberries that might come along later. This place has plenty of rooms to put them in.”
“How many blueberries are we talking here? Because I’m looking at a really big house that must have a lot of rooms to fill.”
“That, Mrs. Blackstone, remains to be seen, but I can assure you that I will give you my very best efforts at filling a few.”
“Ahh, then what are you standing out here for? Hadn’t you better get cracking?” She asked smugly.
I swooped her up, and started walking. Fast. If she was ready for HoneymoonLand then I was not the fool to be delaying matters. Again, not a moron.
