11
RAPHAEL
Idid not sleep. Well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate. I slept intermittently. Every creak of the house drew my attention. The storm passed sometime before dawn, leaving the estate unnaturally still.
Belle was downstairs. I had chosen that room deliberately. It was on the first floor, so there were no stairs. Plus, it would give her more privacy. I told myself it was logistics. By seven-thirty, I had already reviewed the marriage statutes for the county, contacted my attorney, and confirmed the process could be expedited. Paperwork was straightforward, but waiting was not.
I stood outside her door . . . well, pacing more than standing.
Yet I found myself counting seconds between sounds from within.
At precisely 8:02, I heard movement. Fabric shifted, and floorboards adjusted under cautious weight. Then the door opened a fraction.
Belle’s hair was loose, slightly tangled from sleep. She blinked against the hallway light. She looked soft.
“What are you doing?” she said immediately, pulling her arms around her soft curves.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?” she asked.
That was a good question. Why was I lurking outside her door? I didn’t even have the answer to the question. I thrust the crutches toward her.
She stared at them. “Absolutely not.”
“You require stabilization.”
“I require caffeine.”
“Both are possible.”
She looked down at the crutches again. “Where did those even come from?”
“I had them delivered.”
A little huff of laughter sounded from her as she shook her head, “Of course, you did.”
She leaned against the doorframe instead of taking them. “I am not hobbling around your estate like Tiny Tim.”
“You’re currently hobbling around my estate like a liability.”
I prepared for snark, but what I got was a laugh. A full loud laugh. “You really are something else.”
I stepped forward slightly and placed the crutches firmly into her hands. She took them, and her balance shifted immediately, more stable. She took a tentative step. The crutches absorbed the strain. Her expression shifted, just slightly.
“Don’t say anything," she said.
“I didn’t say a word.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Where are we going?”
“My office.”
“Why?”
“To proceed,” I said plainly. I wasn’t sure where the confusion was. She said last night she would marry me this morning. It is morning.
“With what?” She looked up at me with questioning eyes, and her pink plush lips parted. My attraction to her, coupled with this wedding, could be a problem, but this was for her.
