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I know what that says about me, but it’s who I fell in love with, and I don’t want him to change.
“I love you,” I say, stroking over his scar. “Husband.”
A low growl escapes Punky. “Say it again.”
“I love you, husband.”
“And I love you, wife. Mrs. Puck Kelly. I can’t get my head around it.”
“Why?”
He places his hand over mine. “’Cause I don’t deserve ye,” he explains. “After everythin’ I’ve done…it doesn’t seem right that I deserve to be the happiest man alive.”
“You do deserve it,” I correct softly. “Wedeserve this. We deserve to be happy.”
Punky senses I won’t be swayed and nods.
He reaches for my left hand and rubs his thumb over my ring before drawing it to his lips and kissing over it softly. “When did ye do all this?”
“When you were sleeping.”
He smiles broadly.
“I know you wanted to get married at the castle, probably with friends in attendance, but—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “This was everythin’ I could’ve ever hoped for and then some. All I care about is being yer husband. And you, my wife.”
He lays a gentle kiss to the side of my throat, stirring the hunger within.
When my stomach rumbles, however, it seems I’ll need to feed another hunger.
Punky laughs, rummaging through the picnic basket. He retrieves the bottle of champagne and two glasses. With me still propped on his lap, he aims the bottle away from us and pops open the cork. It goes careening into the sky.
The bubbly liquid spills over, but Punky quickly catches it into the glasses. Once they’re full, he offers me one.
“To my parful wife, thank you for makin’ today one of the best days of my life.”
We clink glasses.
The French champagne is delicious, but when I see the array of food Aine packed, I swap the booze for the homemade onion and goat’s cheese tarts.
Punky and I eat happily in silence, enjoying not only the food but our company as well. We haven’t had a day when we’ve focused solely on us, so it’s nice to get away—even for a few hours. I’m not sure when we’ll have the opportunity again, so I try not to think about what tomorrow holds.
But Punky can read me like a book. “It’s goin’ to be all right.We’regoin’ to be all right.”
I want to believe him, but history proves that a curveball is always around the corner.
With my appetite shot, I reach for my glass of champagne and toss it back quickly. I wish I could conceal my feelings better, but I can’t hide anything from Punky.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
He stands, taking me with him as he walks us toward the lake’s edge. I’m holding him tightly, never feeling safer than I do right now.
“I don’t want to ruin yer pretty dress,” he says, lowering my feet to the ground.
He doesn’t hesitate and kicks off his socks and boots before unfastening the buttons on his shirt. When it parts and his smooth flesh is exposed, I forget to swallow. He slips it off while I stand motionless, ogling my very hot husband.
The sunlight illuminates him in a way that’s almost godlike, and that’s because he is—my own personal god.
