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And I realize then that Damon’s like the male mallard. When he was young, his cousin was badly hurt, and he felt powerless to help her. So he’s making up for it now, protecting the women around him, even if he’s not romantically involved with them. I think of how he heated the pack for me in the car, and how part of the reason he gave me an orgasm was to help me with my cramps. How he bought Sherry flowers and me chocolates, and he bought me the ‘care package,’ as he so beautifully called it. How he just helped Juliette with her laptop. Even how ‘Soft Doms’ are ‘the gentlemen of the BDSM realm.’ No doubt it’s one reason for what he calls his praise kink. He wants to keep them safe, to make them feel loved and protected, and to give them pleasure.
I feel guilty when he says or does nice things, as if I’ve somehow forced him into them by looking pathetic, but I realize then that he enjoys making me feel good.
“Tell me another line of poetry,” I say softly.
He studies my face for a moment, thoughtful, his eyes filled with an emotion I can’t quite fathom.
“‘When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave,’” he says, and smiles.
My heart skips a beat. “Who said that?”
“Shakespeare. It’s fromMuch Ado.”
“Seems appropriate,” I reply, because I quoted Beatrice yesterday. “Although your quote was more romantic than mine.”
He just chuckles, but I’m reminded of his text yesterday,Best believe me, baby girl. I never lie, and it sends a shiver down my back.
“Ready when you are!” Juliette calls from the doorway, and the two of us get to our feet and head back into the room.
“I hope you all have a great evening,” I tell the guys. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“We’re heading toward thirty,” Alex says. “We’ll have two whiskies and a bowl of fries, complain the music’s too loud, and be in bed by eleven.”
I giggle. “See you all tomorrow at the rehearsal dinner.”
They wave, and Juliette and I head out of the door.
She links arms with me as we walk through the building. “Ready for a fantastic night?”
“I am, actually.” I feel a bubble of excitement deep inside, but it’s not just because I’m looking forward to the evening.
I know Damon’s my brother’s mate, and he said he’d never do anything to jeopardize that relationship. But something’s brewing between us. I can feel it in the autumn air. It’s like the glow you get inside when you know winter’s coming, and you crunch through red and gold leaves everywhere you go, and you dig out your sweaters and start cooking, and everything smells of hearty stews and baked apples and cinnamon. It’s warm and comforting and exciting.
The only question is whether I can convince him to put aside his principles for long enough to let the spark of attraction flare into something that might just set us alight.
Chapter Fourteen
Belle
Gaby’s hen night turns out to be a huge success. A dozen of us have a fabulous time at a bar and then a nightclub, drinking, dancing, and laughing. Gaby wears the veil I made her all evening, and it’s around one a.m. before we finally call it a day.
Most of the girls head home, but Gaby persuades her old school friend, Aroha, to stay the night with us at Dad’s place, where she’s staying now until the wedding. And when we find out that Juliette’s partner, Cam, is in Australia at the moment and not coming back until the morning of the wedding, we talk her into staying, too.
The four of us arrive and creep as quietly as we can into the house, which is to say not quietly at all, and make our way into the kitchen to discover that Sherry has left a plate of tiny quiches and another with small muffins, and a note to inform us there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge.
“She knows us a little too well,” Gaby says. “I’ll take the food in. Juliette, you get the glasses. Aroha, find us some plates. And Belle, you open the wine.”
“Yes, boss.” I do as she says and then bring it into the living room. Gaby and Aroha sit on the sofa, and Juliette and I sit on the carpet on the other side of the coffee table. I pour us all a glass of the sparkling wine, and we dig into the quiches and muffins.
“Oh, what a fantastic evening.” Gaby lies back, resting her feet on Aroha’s lap. “I should get married every day.”
“To the same person or to someone different?” Juliette wants to know.
Gaby pretends to think about it, and we all giggle. “There’s only one man for me,” she says eventually.
“But he’s not available,” Aroha adds, “so you’re stuck with Tyson.”
