After glancing between the two of us, Everett said, “Yeah, well, I’ll leave you two alone.
As I swiped my handkerchief under my eyes, I replied, “Thanks, Everett.”
He thumped William on the back before heading out into the hallway. The door closed shut, sending an echo through the silent chapel. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. During the last twenty-four hours, I had wanted him more than anything. I wanted to feel the comfort of his strong arms around me, to press my ear against his chest and hear the sound of his heartbeat, to the feel the warmth of his skin against mine. I wanted him to tell me with the true conviction he possessed that everything was going to be all right.
But now that he was standing in front of me, I remained rooted with my feet to the floor, unable to take that one step—that giant leap—to him.
“I’m assuming that’s the guy who went with you to 1740.”
With a nervous laugh, I replied, “Yes. That was Everett.”
“Based on the way he looks, he could have easily taken Calla out, but from the way I hear it, you managed to do all the damage yourself.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Beating her up—was it all just about revenge for her ruining yours and my career?”
“No. It was also about getting back at her for hurting you.”
“It was?”
I nodded. “Whenever you hurt someone I care about, then I have to hurt you.” In almost a whisper, I said, “I always protect those that I love.”
William took a tentative step closer before he closed the gap between us. That was all it took to break down my resolve. I threw myself into his arms as the sobs overtook me. “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” I murmured over and over again.
“No, baby. I’m the one who is sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here when you needed me most,” he said in my ear. His hand drew slow, comforting circles over my back. I sighed with contentment at the feeling of his touch. I had missed his hands on my body. Not only could his hands light me on fire physically, but they brought soothing comfort when I was emotionally troubled.
“But it’s my fault. I’m the one who drove you away.” I pulled back to look at him. “I wanted to call you so many times…I wanted to see you.” I shook my head. “I was just too stubborn and scared.”
William cupped my cheeks in his hands. “I’m here for you, Sophie—through hell and back and through the good and bad. All you have to do is let me in.”
“I desperately want to. I’m just…” I pinched my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at him when I admitted my weakness, “afraid.”
“Sophie, look at me,” William commanded.
My eyes opened immediately at the forcefulness of his tone. “You don’t have to be afraid. But even if you are, I’ll be strong enough for both of us.”
I surveyed the intensity of his expression. “I know you would walk through fire for me, and not because it was the request of your Mistress. It would be because you love me.” I brought my mouth to his. After a tender kiss, I murmured, “And I love you,” against his lips.
When I started to deepen the kiss, William took me by the shoulders and pushed me back. “What did you say?”
I smiled at him through my tears. “I said, ‘I love you.’ And I do love you, William. More than I could ever have imagined. I was so stupid to think that everything had to be perfect for us to be together, or all the things that had gone wrong meant we weren’t meant to be together. I’ve come to embrace the fact that our relationship is perfectly flawed.”
“You have?”
I stared into his eyes that shone with such love for me. “Yes. I have. There is such beauty in imperfection.”
“While that is true, I chose to believe what we have is perfection.”
“So you’ll forgive me for being stubborn and stupid?”
“Of course.” With a smile, William added, “I’m sure it won’t be the last time I need to forgive you for that.”
I laughed. “No. I’m sure it won’t be.”
“One day, you’ll be my stubborn, smart mouthed wife,” he said, insistently.
Although I knew it wasn’t an official proposal, my heartbeat fluttered at the thought. With a smile, I said, “Yes. I will.”
As William brought his lips to mine, I couldn’t help thinking how my father would be beaming with happiness that we were back together, and that in a small way, he had a hand in our reunion .
In my mind, I saw him standing in front of a brilliant white light with Grand-Maman and Grandpa. As Daddy smiled, Grand-Maman said, “Etre chérie heureux.”
Daddy nodded. “That’s right. Be happy, sweetheart.”
And to honor their love and their memory, I knew I would always try.
TWO YEARS LATER
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister paused and smiled. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Tears blurred my vision as I watched Ansel tenderly place his hands on his new wife’s cheeks and kiss her gently. Shifting my bouquet into one hand, I swiped the tears away with the other. I’d never imagined my brother getting married at just twenty. Always the cynic, I had rolled my eyes when he had told me he’d fallen in love not even three weeks after he started fall semester at The University of Tennessee. My cynicism grew even further when he told me she was a cheerleader for the university. I couldn’t help picturing some blonde, sorority bimbo who wanted an elevated status by dating one of the football players.
But all my doubts evaporated at Ansel’s first football game. Melanie was auburn haired, not blonde, and she was an engineering major. She was shy and reserved, and she made Ansel toe the line when it came to studying before partying. Either my brother had become pussy-whipped or he had a secret submissive side he hadn’t realized because whatever Melanie said, he did. I loved watching every minute of it.
At Thanksgiving, he had proposed, and she had accepted. Although both their families had encouraged them to finish school, they weren’t having it. They pushed full steam ahead in planning a spring wedding at the farm.
After clearing my eyes, I watched in amusement as Ansel deepened the kiss into one with a little more kick. Whistles and catcalls erupted around us. When Ansel pulled away, he grinned at the crowd. “Just wait until tonight.”
While others gasped in horror, I only laughed at my brother’s antics. The other bridesmaids met up with their groomsman at the top of the altar and the started down the grassy aisle.
I gave my groomsman, my husband, a beaming smile, before linking my arm though his. While keeping a smile plastered on his face, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you haven’t been on your feet too long?”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe we should get you some water before we do the pictures?”
I laughed. “William, I’m not the first woman to be nine months pregnant, you know.”
“I know.” He grinned at me. “But you’re the first one I’ve been married to.”
When we reached the end of the aisle, he bent down and kissed me. Staring into his eyes, I saw deep adoration. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against my lips.
“And you’re so full of it. I look like an obese Smurf.” The cobalt colored dresses looked amazing on the other bridesmaids—the svelte ones that is. While they all had worn gorgeous, strappy sandals, I’d been forced into flats.
“You do not. You look just as beautiful as you did on your wedding day. Maybe more because you have life within you.”
Once again, tears sprung in my eyes. With the pregnancy hormones, it seemed I was always gushing, which I loathed since I hated showing emotions. William had learned to accept my new softer, weepy side. He would just smile and teasingly say, “I vowed to take you for better or worse.”
William and I had gotten married a year and one day after my dad’s death. The superstitious part of me had stuck to the old saying that you shouldn’t make any major decisions until a year after a death. Since I had never been out of the country, William flew us, Ansel and Melanie, and his grandparents to Italy. Although I had initially balked at the idea of a designer dress, William’s grandmother talked me into one. So I stood in St Mark's Basilica, the Cathedral of Venice, in a Cinderella type gown with a crystal beaded bodice and a five foot train. With just the six of us, it was an intimate ceremony. Afterwards, we had dinner at a nearby restaurant.
Later as we were dancing to the music of a street violinist, William said with a smile, “The first time I ever laid eyes on you, I saw you in white just like you are today.”
I laughed. “I think the color is the only similar to what I was wearing then and what I’m wearing today.” With a wink, I added, “But I just might tie you up and spank you tonight.”
His dark eyes flared with desire. “Thank you, Mistress Sophie.”
I groaned. “We talked about you calling me that.”
In the year leading up to the wedding, we had worked at devising what our relationship would look like. Although it was the place that brought us together, 1740 also harbored too many negative memories for us to ever want to play there again. We decided that whatever playing we did, it would be in the privacy of our own home. But we were going to keep things simple--we wouldn’t be remodeling the basement to make a dungeon. Instead, we ordered a new BDSM bed that to the average eye looked like a canopy bed with intricate carvings in the wood. Only William and I knew the difference. There would be no titles like “Mistress”, and playing would only be for fun—William wouldn’t be expected to cater to my every whim, and I wouldn’t boss him around…too much.