Page 122 of Captive Ruin

She gives me the look she always gives when I’m being indefensibly optimistic. “When I’m gone,” she continues with a firm voice, “I want you to mourn me for… about five minutes. And then go and find yourself someone you can love.”

I shake my head. “I’m not a man others want.”

“I want you,” she says wistfully. “Find someone to make you smile, Lukas. The way I used to. Do it for me, if not for yourself.”

“You’re smiling,” Amelia observes, breaking me from my reverie. “Why are you smiling? It’s not dark.”

“Am I?” I say wistfully. Maybe I was. “Just a memory.” One I’ve thought of several times in the past months, but it’s never made me smile before.

“Of what, torturing a kitten?”

“No, not exactly.”

Amelia gives me a strange look but doesn’t push again.

A few minutes later, Tony pulls up at the town hall in Rhinebeck, an attractive brick building in a small village, far quieter than the busy county clerk’s office. We’re the only ones here; I took pains to ensure that.

Tony climbs out, swiftly checking the area, and I walk around to Amelia’s side. She tries her door, discovers it won’t open, and glares at me when I open it for her.

“Child lock?” she says contemptuously, ignoring my offered hand as she climbs out. “That’s affirming.”

“I should’ve gone with the cuffs, shouldn’t I?” I take her hand and place it on my arm, holding it there while Bastien’s Rolls pulls up behind my Maybach, and his security spills from the third vehicle.

Amelia gives me that cute deer-in-the-headlights double-take she does so well, a slight tremble running through her. Then her jaw clenches. “I cut them all up.”

“Two weeks ago,” I murmur as the six security guards fan out, dividing the area between them with competent efficiency. “You don’t think I’ve bought more since then? They gave me a loyalty card.”

Amelia doesn’t respond. Instead, she watches our bodyguards with a furrowed brow. “Are we… safe?”

“Just a precaution.” I don’t want her worried. Not today.

Jorge peels off to check the town hall, while I hold Amelia and we wait for Bastien. He steps out of his Rolls, two of his guards flanking him.

Amelia’s hand clenches on my arm and she glances about, down the street in both directions. Then she takes a steadying breath, straightens her spine, and fixes me with a glare like this is all my fault.

She’s frightened, masking it with fury. I can feel it in her grip and see it in the line of her jaw. Yet she’s standing here anyway, chin raised provocatively, ready to marry a man she still half-hates, because she’s telling herself it’s to protect her sister.

I’m not convinced that’s the whole answer. I hope it isn’t.

“Ready?” Bastien asks.

I glance at the town hall as Jorge emerges, giving me a nod. “I certainly am,” I say with feeling. “Let’s do this thing.”

Amelia stumbles as we walk to the door, bracing herself with her grip on my arm. I’m ready to catch her if I need to, but she stands tall, daring me to interfere or make a comment.

“Uneven sidewalk,” I murmur. “If you’d twisted your ankle just now, I’d have had this town’s entire public works department fired by the end of the day.”

Her lips twitch despite her attempts to hide it with a scowl. “Even you couldn’t do that.”

“Would you like to wager?”

“I’ve got nothing to bet with,” she says. “You’ve already taken my ass.”

I grin at that, unable to help myself. “I’m going to enjoy being married to you, Miss Anderson.”

“And I want a book on toxic plants for Christmas.”

Within, the carpets are threadbare and the décor is dated, but I don’t care. This is a formality to bind this woman with something more permanent and scissor-resistant than the cuffs I’ll be using tonight. Judge McKinnon is the town officiant, and he gives me a nervous look before hiding it behind an insincere smile.