Page 330 of Romeo

This woman was mine. My wife. My old lady. My everything. And I’d protect her, possess her, keep her safe and satisfied for the rest of our lives.

Anyone who tried to take her from me would have to go through me first.

And I’d kill them before I let that happen.

She was mine.

Forever.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Fiona

I woke to the quiet rasp of a zipper somewhere near the foot of the bed. For a few seconds I stayed exactly where I was, eyes closed beneath the thin gray light pushing around the curtains, trying to decide whether I cared enough to find out what Jasper was doing. My body felt heavy in that pleasant, unfamiliar way that brought pieces of last night slipping back into my head before I could stop them. Heat climbed into my face, and I pulled the sheet higher even though Jasper had already seen considerably more of me than a bare shoulder. Another zipper sounded, followed by the muffled thump of something being set on the floor, and curiosity finally won.

Jasper sat at the foot of the bed in jeans and a black T-shirt, tying one of his boots. Both of our bags were packed beside the bedroom door. He must have felt me staring because his head came up, and the concentration on his face softened into a smile that made something inside me turn over.

“Mornin’, wife,” he said.

Wife.

I had heard the word plenty of times yesterday. Father Benoit had used it. Jasper’s mother had used it. C.C. had used it while giving her brother grief. Somehow it sounded different in the quiet bedroom with Jasper looking at me as though he still couldn’t quite believe he had gotten away with marrying me.

I smiled before remembering the bags. “You’re doing it again.”

Jasper followed my gaze toward the door. “Packin’?”

“Kidnapping me before breakfast.”

His smile widened as he finished with his boot. “Pretty sure you packed your own bag last time, Ma Belle. Then you walked out of Granny’s house and climbed onto my bike on your own.”

“I was emotionally compromised,” I reminded him as I pushed myself higher against the pillows. The movement pulled at muscles that had very definite opinions about what I had done with my wedding night, and I sucked in a small breath before I could hide it.

Jasper noticed immediately. His teasing disappeared as he shifted toward me. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I moved more carefully, annoyed by the way his eyes followed me as though he expected something to be wrong. The ache had nothing in common with what I felt after the parking lot. There was no fear attached to it, no memory I wanted to push away. If anything, remembering exactly why I was sore made it difficult to keep looking at him without blushing. When he continued studying me, I narrowed my eyes. “If you start treating me like I’m made of glass, I’m throwing a pillow at you.”

The concern in his expression changed into something warmer. “Wasn’t thinkin’ about glass.”

Of course he wasn’t.

My face got hotter, which only pleased him more. “Go away.”

“Can’t.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead, his mouth lingering for a second before he murmured, “Married you.”

I caught his wrist when he started to straighten. The wedding band on his hand brushed against my fingers, and that distracted me all over again. I had seen Jasper’s hands plenty of times during the last year, sometimes in pictures, sometimes wrapped around mine, sometimes imagining them doing things I absolutely did not need to think about while trying to have a serious conversation. I had never seen a ring there. Now the plain band looked as if it belonged on him, and I wondered how long it would be before I stopped noticing it every time he reached for me.

Apparently not this morning.

Jasper looked down at my fingers around his wrist. “Somethin’ you like?”

“Maybe.” I rubbed my thumb over his ring before meeting his eyes. “Why are you already dressed and packed?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my left hand, where Granny’s ring rested on my finger. “Thought we’d spend a few days alone.”

I glanced toward our bags again. “We’re newlyweds. I’m pretty sure people expect us to want to be alone. We shouldn’t have to flee the state.”

“We ain’t fleeing the state.”