Love in Fantasy (Skeleton Key) (29 page)

Nothing in the world will ever be as sweet as those words coming from Pippa St. Claire. Actually, there is one. This can only be topped by Pippa Hudson.

How do the mighty fall? Love knocks them on their ass.

I said it. I’ve given myself to Oliver completely. I don’t feel panic. There is no fear. I only feel free, as though a great burden has been lifted off of my heart. And, the look on Oliver’s face will be burned into my memory forever. He looks as though he just stepped through the gates of heaven. I expect him to haul me into his arms and kiss the daylights out of me; I am greatly anticipating it. But, he picks up my hand and turns it over, kissing the palm, and replacing it in my lap. My brain starts sputtering, though it hasn’t reached my mouth yet. Doesn’t “I love you” usually give a closing act involving a grand kiss and a finale?

“Have patience, baby.” He grins, obviously seeing my perplexed state. “I’ll be right back.” He walks away. And still, I sit here in a speechless state of shock, which is quickly turning into disgruntlement.

He returns a minute later with a small, black velvet bag and puts it into the previously kissed palm, before sitting close to me again. There is an air of anticipation about him; I can almost see it pulsing around him. I pull the ribbon tying it together and open the little pouch. Turning it over, something hard and cool falls into my waiting hand.

It’s a little book, made of varying colors of quartz and it hangs from a beautiful chain. Oliver reaches out and turns it over, before pushing my hand close to my face, encouraging me to inspect it closer. I then notice each side of the little “book” is inscribed. One side says,
The greatest love story of all
, and the other says,
Was the day I fell in love with you
.

“Oliver it’s—I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.” I’m crying now and I don’t even bother to try and stop.

“Open it.” The minute he says it, I spy the tiny hinges and catch. It’s a locket.

Flipping the lock up, I open the book into two halves. A ring rests in each side. One is a thick, platinum band with diamond chips every few centimeters, all around it. It’s clearly a masculine ring and I know in an instant how perfect it is for Oliver. The other ring makes me breathless, which then morphs into choking due to all of my tears. I wave Oliver off when he starts to look worried. “I’m fine. I swear, I’m ok,” I say with a watery smile. “I’m the best ever.”

The band of the ring is pavé diamonds all the way around, and another circle of them around the round diamond in the middle. From all the years of listening to my sister talk about jewelry, I’m pretty confident I’m staring at three karats-ish. It’s completely stunning, but even more, it’s exactly what I would have picked for myself.

I hear the sound of Oliver taking a deep breath, and I look up to see him holding out his hand, palm up. I’m tempted to hold the ring close and not let him take it, but then images of me as Gollum, petting the ring and talking to it, prompt me to hand it over with a sigh.

Oliver closes his hand around it and stands up, then he faces me and goes down to one knee. “Philippa St. Claire, I could make all the flowery speeches in the world, but they would all boil down to one thing; you’re mine. So, I’m going to skip them.” He pauses and his eyes narrow in warning. “Will you marry me?”

I consider teasing him, but decide it would be a really bitchy thing to do. Instead, I tackle him while screaming yes, then kiss the daylights out of him. See what I mean? Grand kiss and a heart-pumping finale playing so loud it threatens to burst your ear drums. But, you don’t care because you’re too busy being enthralled by the epic kiss.

We break for air and he starts to slide the ring on then halts. “What about everything else?”

“Everything else?” What is he talking about?

“You’re going to have my babies,” he states.

“I can live with that,” I say in a serious tone, though I’m sure he can see the humor in my eyes because he smirks and starts to slide it on—oh, for the love of. . . “What now?”

He gives me a speculative glance, once again holding the ring away. “You know this means you have to honor and obey? Emphasis on the obey, Pippa.”

“Now you’re just pushing it, Oliver.”

His grin rivals the sun and when the ring is finally resting all the way on my finger, it’s the most comforting and addictive shackle in the world.

Dearly beloved, I need to fuck my wife, so hurry this shit up.

I
’m pretty sure I just ended up on my mother-in-law’s hit list.

After Pippa agreed to marry me, the plan was to take her home and then pick her up to get married today. At the last minute, I realized what a chance I was taking by sending her home. Not a chance on Pippa, no, I was worried Marianne St. Claire, her mother, would find out about my plan and keep Pippa hostage until she’d been allowed to put together a wedding.

Not. Happening.

I put a mental chastity belt on her and put her in a guest room.

Far. Far. Away.

I considered putting her in our room, and I would sleep elsewhere, but I knew, just the thought of her in our bed . . . I’d be fucked. No, let me rephrase.
She’d
be fucked. I spent the night tossing and turning, cursing out Wilhelm because I should have been in a fantasy with Pippa, naked.

After all the help I gave her sisters, I never expected to be sold out. It doesn’t matter if they don’t know I was behind it, could I get some loyalty here? But, here I am, facing a mother on a mission, determined to keep me from marrying my woman until she gets her way, while her sisters look on with a mixture of guilt and laughter. Their men, however, are full of understanding and sympathy. And, yet, not one of those cowards step forward to help me out. Let’s not forget Pippa, who is standing behind me, laughing her pretty little, soon to be red, ass off.

Finally, to avoid manhandling Marianne, I turn to Preston and give one last attempt at diplomacy. I glare at him. “I’ve proven my worth, and I’m not waiting any longer.” I narrow my eyes in warning.

Preston flattens his lips, his eyes sparkling, clearly trying to keep from smiling as he turns to his wife. “Sweetheart, I think it’s safe to say Oliver will be marrying Philippa today. If you want to attend the wedding, I suggest you step aside and simply let it happen. If you push it, or threaten him with a dungeon again, my guess is he’ll be out the door on the way to the nearest country with no extradition agreement.”

“Mom.” Pippa’s amused voice chimes in from behind me. “Dad’s right. Besides, I want to get married today.” Looks like Pippa just redeemed herself enough to get out of her spanking. “But, Oliver and I would be more than happy to let you throw us a reception.”
I take it back.
I give Pippa a dirty look, shaking my head vigorously. She ignores me and, damn it, I suddenly don’t give a fuck what I have to suffer through if I can just fucking marry my woman in the next fifteen minutes!

Marianne looks like she is considering her options and I decide to stop that shit right now. “Attending the wedding and a reception. Final offer. Take it or leave it,” I growl. Yeah, I don’t wait for her decision. I pick up Pippa and walk around Marianne while she sputters.

Now, let me be clear, my relationship with Pippa, my desire to marry her, it isn’t all a ploy to get her in bed. Although, I know it may seem like it right now. However, I’d like to point out how long I’ve waited and remind you how romantic I’ve been. So, give me and my shriveled up blue balls a little understanding. Why am I telling you this? So you don’t judge me for almost punching the priest when he chooses to use the longer of the two marriage ceremonies. Also, for the fact that after I kissed the fuck out of my bride, I didn’t give her a minute with her family. I simply threw her over my shoulder and stalked out the nearest exit, with Pippa giggling the whole way.

Out of all of the things I considered for our wedding night, I found the most appealing to be returning to our home, making love for the first time in our bed, sharing our first night of our life together in the place where we would live it. We get in a car at the church and I tell the driver to take us home. Pippa sighs and when I look at her, her face is soft and dreamy, and I know I made the right call.

At the house, I instruct the driver to let us out in the front, circle drive. We exit the back and I sweep my wife up into my arms to the sweet sound of her laughter. I carry her into the entryway of the house and set her down. She looks all around, taking it in, and prompting me to ask, “Does it look different?”

She smiles and cocks her head to the side. “A little. I suppose anything does when it becomes yours. I’m looking at this room now, thinking about when our children will run through this door after school, the holidays when our families will enter here, the day our daughter’s first date arrives—”

“—No way,” I bark. “No dating. I’ll agree to have girls, but only if there is a no dating rule. Otherwise, boy. All boys.”

Pippa rolls her eyes and throws her hands in the air, exasperation written all over her face. “Such an ego. You can’t pick the gender of our babies, Oliver. And, I’m not going to let you keep our daughter or daughters sequestered away in some tower like the villain in a fairy tale.”

“We’ll just see about that,” I mutter under my breath, then louder, I say, “It’s time to get started on those boys you’re going to have, baby.” I grin at her annoyed expression and pull her to me, kissing her like it’s our first. In a way, it is. The first kiss at the wedding doesn’t really count. This kiss, the first in our home, as husband and wife, it’s the start of an amazing journey. It’s also the straw that breaks the camel’s back and in no time, I’ve got Pippa cradled against my chest as I jog up the steps and down the hall to the master suite. Stepping inside, I inhale deeply and release it slowly, endeavoring to calm myself. This is going to be slow and special, even if it kills me.
It just might.

I take Pippa straight to the turned down bed and lay her down in the center, remove her soft yellow heels, then stand back and admire the view. Damn. She is so fucking beautiful. And, all mine. “This is the beginning of one of my favorite fantasies,” I tell her. “My wife, the love of my life, in our bed, waiting for me.” She raises her arms to me and my heart skips a beat. I kick off my own shoes and lay down on the bed next to her, me on my side, and Pippa on her back. She drops her arms, looking at me in confusion. “I’ve waited my whole life for you, Pippa. I’m not going to be rushed. I’m going to savor every moment with you, starting with our wedding night.”