What Doesn't Kill You(41)
Claire nodded, fresh tears stinging her eyes. Eric let her go, slipping back inside the room. Taking in a shaky breath, she gave herself a minute to recover. Then she went to share the good news.
FOURTEEN
After some fast talking, and an invitation to every staff member who cared to accept, the wedding party gathered in the small hospital chapel, attendees spilling out into the hall.
Annie sat in a wheelchair to Claire’s left, holding a wide-eyed and sober Elizabeth. Eric and Zach stood up with Marcus, Zach rumpled and pale. Claire knew the last hours had caught up with him, that his side was aching. He refused to miss any of it, no matter how much he hurt.
Cinda smiled at everyone, finally returning to Claire and Marcus.
“Are we ready to continue?”
Laughter filled the chapel. Claire took Marcus’ hand, leaned in to whisper. “Last chance to escape.”
“You are stuck with me, witch. For better or worse.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “Thank you.”
“My motives are purely selfish.”
“Thank heaven. So are mine.”
Laughing, he pulled her in and kissed her. “We are in for an interesting life, you and I.”
Cinda cleared her throat. “I will let you know when we reach that part of the ceremony. Now please step away from the bride.”
More laughter surrounded them. It was not the wedding Claire planned, but it was exactly the wedding she wanted. Family, friends, people who shared both the good and the hard times with her, now shared the joy.
She floated through the ceremony, coming out of the haze long enough to grasp Marcus’ hands and say “I do.”
Then he had her in his arms, kissing her, with the cheers of the people she loved filling her ears, filling her heart.
*
Claire and Marcus slipped away, finally checking in at the cliff top bed and breakfast an hour later.
“Marcus.” Claire leaned against the carved post of the canopy bed, so exhausted she had trouble standing up straight. “I’m afraid our wedding night is going to be a disappointment.”
Laughing, he gathered her into his arms, kissing her until her knees turned to rubber. Fortunately, the bed was right behind her. Clever Jinn.
He lowered her to the overstuffed duvet. It enveloped them; a cloud of silk and crisp cotton linens. Claire felt her exhaustion slide away under his touch, the heat of his skin an addiction she never wanted to shake.
His hands traced down her waist, along the curve of her hips, sliding over the velvet of her dress.
“I believe, sweet,” he whispered against her throat, that sand rough voice sending shivers through her. “That you are beginning to recover.”
“I feel a second wind coming on.”
He smiled against her throat, kept kissing his way up, pausing at the corner of her mouth. “Have you ever thought of having a baby?”
“I—what? Where did that come from?”
He lifted his head. “As Zach would so succinctly state: duh.”
Claire pushed hair off her face and sat. “I never—even if there had been someone, I didn’t even know if I could.”
Marcus rolled on to his back. “And now?”
Sighing, she studied his face. He looked incredibly sexy, long and lean in all black, sprawled across the pristine white duvet. His wild black curls spread around his head, so much a part of him she couldn’t think of him without an image of them, framing his face, brushing his shoulders, the ever present silver hamsa winking at his ear.
“Now—I don’t even know what I am, and you are Jinn, so—”
“We would create in intriguing child.”
Claire smiled at him. “Already have one, thanks.”
He reached out and pulled her toward him, tucking her in against his side. “And he will be fine.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes, let his warmth seep into her, the weight of his arm soothing. “He scared me, Marcus. I almost lost him to that maniac. I want to protect him, lock him away, but I know he would hate me for it.”
Zach was at Annie’s—a compromise they argued about, long and loud. Claire won because he still hurt, and couldn’t hide it from her. She expected to get an earful when he felt better.
“He will be fine,” Marcus said. “That boy has nerves of steel. I never thought to be impressed by him, but I am. Now,” he tilted her chin until their eyes met. “We celebrate us.”
“Marcus.” She kissed him, savoring the taste of him, the scent that surrounded her. Musk, sand, exotic spice—uniquely him. “What did I do to deserve you?”
He didn’t answer, just returned her kiss with a passion that knocked the breath out of her, and rolled across the bed with her until she lay under him.