Grayson's Vow

by Mia Sheridan

  He was dressed as a dragon.

  He paused and turned slightly to show me the wings attached to his back—black with the same blue-green scales and threads of fire. His grin grew as he turned toward me again and we met in the middle of the room, rushing together and stopping suddenly when we were a few inches apart.

  We stood looking at each other for several heartbeats before he said, "Hi, little witch." His voice sounded raw and as I stared into his eyes, seen only through the holes in the mask, I swore I saw longing. "You look ravishing."

  "Hi, dragon," I breathed, questions swirling through my mind. He was devilishly gorgeous as he again smiled down at me, and my heart flipped once and then twice inside my chest. "So do you. I can't believe you did this." I nodded up at his mask, grinning again.

  "Oh I did," he assured me. His grin faded as he took one step forward. "I missed you."

  "You did?" I whispered, taking one step forward as well.

  He took a step closer. "Yes, God yes. Kira, this week . . . I have so much to tell you. We have so much to talk about. I hope—"

  "We do?" I asked, my words colliding with his, hope blooming inside me again.

  "Yes."

  I looked down. "You didn't even call me," I said, trying to keep the hurt from my voice. "I thought—"

  "Charlotte tried to find out where you were."

  I blinked. "I didn't know she was asking for you. Why didn't you just ask me yourself?"

  "I didn't think after . . . well, I wanted to show you rather than tell you, and so I thought it best I wait for tonight," he said, a throaty edge to his voice. "I needed to look in your eyes. Kira—"

  "I—"

  "Kira!" I heard sing-songed loudly from the doorway. Charlotte came rushing toward us, dressed as a fairy godmother. I laughed happily, turning to her and letting her sweep me into her warm embrace. "Oh, I don't want to crush you. Let me look at you." She turned me one way and then the other. "Perfect, simply perfect."

  "You, too, Charlotte," I said. "You should wear this all the time."

  Her expression gentled as she said, "My darling girl, you know how much I've come to care for you, right?"

  "Yes," I said, hugging her again. And I did. Despite the reasons she'd brought Shane and Vanessa here—and I was suddenly beginning to believe her reasons were deeper than I yet knew—I didn't doubt the purity of her motives or that she cared for me. I felt it in my heart.

  Seconds later, Vanessa and Shane came into the room. Vanessa dressed as the most perfect Tinkerbell I'd ever seen, and Shane in a tuxedo with a green mask and Peter Pan hat, a sword strapped to his side. I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the thought of the last time I'd seen them, but when they grinned at me, and because Vanessa hugged me warmly, I relaxed, and I felt a measure of relief. I looked over to Grayson whose expression seemed calm.

  As Vanessa and Shane went to get a drink at the bar, I turned to Grayson, seeing warmth and a peace in his eyes I'd only caught glimpses of before. "You've made up with them," I said incredulously.

  He nodded. "Yes. There were a lot of apologies to go around. And I explained all about . . . us. I told you I had a lot to tell you about."

  I opened my mouth to speak, wanting very much to hear exactly what he'd told Vanessa and Shane, but the doorbell rang. The string quartet started up, the crooning melody of "I See The Light" filling the air, as food staff entered from the kitchen holding delicious-smelling hors d'oeuvres on silver trays.

  The next two hours were a whirlwind of greeting and chatting with guests, making sure everyone was comfortable and enjoying themselves, and ensuring the party got off to a seamless start.

  The costumes were wonderful, some no more than beautiful masks combined with evening wear, and others entire creations from head to toe. I still couldn't believe Grayson dressed as a dragon.

  Once I had a moment to take a break, I took a glass of champagne off a passing tray and stood back to admire all the hard work I'd participated in. Everyone looked like they were having a great time, and if the admiring looks on everyone's faces as they looked around were any indication, Hawthorn Vineyard had impressed them. Hopefully they spread the word in town that Grayson had been welcoming and hospitable and his home was beautifully inviting. This place was not in shambles as the gossip indicated. On the contrary, his home sent the message there was every reason to believe the vineyard itself was on the rise under Grayson's management. Who didn't like a good comeback story? Who wouldn't wish to be part of one? This was my hope, and the point of the party.

  I glanced around for Grayson and saw him among a group of guests, one of whom I recognized as Diane Fernsby, and they were laughing and obviously entertained by something he was telling them. He looked up and caught my eye, smiling over at me. It was the expression in his eyes that made my breath catch, though. That smile. It would be my undoing.

  My attention was snagged by Harley, dressed as The Beast, and Priscilla dressed as a punked-out version of Beauty. I hugged them both, delighted to see them. Harley had begun working at the vineyard, which was wonderful. Despite his internal and external scars, he was such a good, kind man. I was so glad Grayson had someone like him. I spent a few minutes chatting with them and getting to know Priscilla better and then moved off to mingle with the other guests.

  I greeted Virgil, dressed as a very large Aladdin, and chatted with José and his wife—dressed as the Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood—for a short time before excusing myself to make sure everything was going well outside.

  The outdoor patio was awash in the glow of candlelight, guests milling around the pool, the sounds of laughter mingling with the sound of the band just starting a new song. I stood for a moment, observing. There hadn't been a moment to talk more with Grayson, and I was filled with desire to get him alone. The night had been a whirlwind so far, though, and despite my impatience, I was very satisfied with the way the party was going.

  "May I have this dance?"

  I whirled around at the feel of a warm body behind mine, the whisper of breath on my bare shoulder. A beautiful dragon was grinning down at me, his hand held up to take my own. "I just realized I haven't danced with my wife yet . . . or ever, for that matter." I let out a small laugh on a breath and took his hand as he led me to the middle of the dance floor. I recognized the song from the movie "Enchanted," although I couldn’t have named it.

  "I didn't realize dragons could dance."

  He pulled me into his arms and began to lead. Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, "Oh yes. People assume we're cumbersome, but it isn't true. It's a little known fact—dancing with a dragon is like dancing with lightning." And then he spun me around. My heart leapt and I laughed out loud, my hair flying out behind me. He spun me back the other way as he grinned down at me, and as silly as it might have sounded, I felt as if I was glowing.

  We slowed then; I was lost in the music and the sway of his body against mine. I wanted to ask him so many things, needed to hear him say the words I thought I saw reflected in his eyes, but I needed to be alone with him. I needed the moment to be just about us. I was still nervous and grappling with how quickly things had changed—I'd been prepared to say goodbye to him tonight, and now . . . and now there was a whisper of hope, even if I was almost afraid to dream.

  The song ended and I stepped away slowly, unable to take my eyes off my husband as he gazed down at me as well, something in his expression I'd never seen before. He reached up as if to touch my cheek when we suddenly heard applause. I looked around and saw that we were the only ones on the dance floor and that the guests were clapping as if we'd just performed for them. I laughed, warmth rising in my cheeks as I gave a small curtsy and Grayson bowed, looking slightly embarrassed, too.

  A woman approached us, walking with the slightest of limps, a kind smile on her face. "That was lovely," she said, reaching out her hand. I took it in my own. "I'm Virgil's mother, Trudy Potter."

  "Oh!" I said, "so nice to meet you. Virgil's become part of the family here
."

  She let out a breath, looking teary as she shook Grayson's hand. "I won't keep you, but I," she breathed in sharply as if trying not to cry, "just wanted to thank you, Mr. Hawthorn." Her words ended on a whisper.

  "You're welcome," Grayson said softly. She nodded at him and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

  "I only gave him a job," he murmured.

  "I suppose," I said, "but I think to her that's a mighty big only."

  I looked up at him. His appreciative gaze caught mine, and he let out a soft breath. Suddenly, off to my right, I heard the soft clap of a singular person approaching us, and turned, smiling, to see my father. My smile faded and my heart stuttered in my chest as Grayson grasped my hand.

  "Hello, Kira," my father said.

  I eyed him warily, looking around quickly to make sure no one nearby could hear us. He was standing in shadow and apparently no one had recognized him as of yet. Not that it would be peculiar, I supposed, for my father to be at a party I was hosting, but I certainly didn't want him to stay. "What in the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.

  "I planned to visit you at your new home. Forgive the intrusion. I had no idea I'd be interrupting a party, but I didn't like the way we ended things in San Francisco. I wanted to learn a little more about the man you married." He suddenly looked to Grayson. "Seems you're more than Kira led me to believe," he said. "Of course any father would be worried about his daughter under these circumstances."

  "Can we discuss this somewhere more private?" Grayson asked, stepping forward, his jaw hard, words clipped. "This is hardly the place." He nodded to the people all around sipping champagne, laughing, and beginning to fill the dance floor behind us.

  My father narrowed his eyes, but nodded once, and Grayson, not letting go of my hand, led the way to his office. When he'd closed the door behind us, his tone was arctic as he said, "Let me give you some advice—don't ever just drop by our home."

  My father turned to him, his eyes equally as cold. "You'll understand, of course, if I choose not to take any advice from a murderer." He spoke through his teeth, his lips barely moving.

  Grayson eyed him, no emotion whatsoever revealed on his features.

  "What do you want?" I asked dejectedly. This night had been so full of magic before he'd shown up. Despair made my heart sink.

  He looked back and forth between the two of us, eyeing our costumes, but obviously choosing not to comment. "You and I haven't always seen eye to eye, Kira. But clearly I don't want my daughter married to a murderer and an ex-con," he said.

  "Don't," I responded. "You don't know anything about who he is." Nausea pressed against my stomach, and I brought my hand there as if to hold it back.

  "Kira," Grayson said, a cautionary tone in his voice, but his expression unchanging. "You don't need to fight my battles. Let me speak to your father alone, please."

  I grabbed his arm. "Grayson, you don't know what he's—"

  "I think that's a good idea," my father said. The smile he shot in my direction looked as flimsy as his campaign promises.

  Grayson made eye contact with me. "I can handle myself, little witch." His voice became tender. "Go back to the party, please."

  I let out a frustrated breath, glaring at my father for a moment and then meeting Grayson's eyes again. My heart dropped, a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. What was going to happen now? "Fine." I acquiesced, not knowing what else to do. I walked out of the room, grasping my hands in fists to keep the shaking to a minimum.

  **********

  The moon cast a golden glow from above and feathery fingers of mist encircled my feet from below. I sat on the bench next to the hedge maze, the one I'd sat on with Shane, what seemed so long ago, but in reality had only been a week. I removed my gloves and then the pins holding on my hat, and sat them both on the bench next to me, using my fingers to lift my hair off my scalp.

  The dread I'd felt in Grayson's office had settled into a lonely lump of cold fear. I could barely attempt to name the many worries that swirled in my gut at the thought of my father and Grayson conversing alone. Why was my father here and what could he possibly want? What did he know? It hadn't sounded like he remembered Grayson . . . even though he'd obviously looked him up. What would he attempt to control now? Would I ever be free of him?

  When I heard footsteps approaching, I stood, turning in time to see Grayson appear around the curve in the path. He'd removed his mask. I let out a breath, feeling a flare of panic.

  "What happened?" I asked. He gave me a small smile.

  "Your father offered me a whole hell of a lot of money to walk away from you permanently, even more than what your grandmother left in trust."

  The lump, previously in my throat, dropped to my stomach. I exhaled a sharp breath and turned away, wrapping my arms around myself. Well, the good news was he evidently believed our marriage was real. "Is he gone?"

  "Yes."

  "You should take it," I said. "We're divorcing anyway. He doesn't have to know it was already planned." I tried to sound sincere. I only hoped the scratchiness of my voice didn't entirely betray me.

  "You're shaking," he said.

  "Am I?" I rubbed my hands down my arms. "It's a little chilly, I guess . . ."

  His hands replaced mine, rubbing down my bare arms. They were warm and solid on my skin. "Kira," Grayson whispered. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. I'm your husband—it's my job to take care of you now. I don't want his money. I told him as much. And I don't want to walk away. I was hoping you understood that tonight."

  "You . . . you don't?" I found my voice and turned back to him.

  He smoothed a piece of hair back behind my shoulder. "No, sweet, beautiful witch. I don't. I realize it might be difficult to take a man seriously who's dressed in a dragon costume, but . . ."

  I laughed softly. "That's the reason I'm taking you seriously."

  He smiled. "Good, because I was hoping . . . well, I was hoping we could give this marriage a real try. I was hoping you'd agree to be mine . . . for real. My wife, my lover, my friend." Vulnerability was etched in the hopeful set of his features, in those deep, dark eyes, and my heart leapt with joy.

  "Make our marriage real?" I breathed.

  "Yes."

  I wanted that, too, so much I almost didn't dare hope, and yet there was still so much unresolved between us . . .

  "What about Vanessa?" I asked, looking down.

  He exhaled a breath. "I never loved Vanessa, Kira. Or if I did, it wasn't the right kind of love. I know that now. Vanessa was meant for Shane. I know because I understand what it feels like when a woman is meant for a man, the way you're meant for me."

  "Gray," I murmured, leaning into his hand when he brushed it along my cheek.

  "We all talked this week. Vanessa and I were never destined to be married. We were friends. And, Kira? We never . . . well, we never slept together either. I . . . knew. I knew I didn't love her, and that she didn't love me." I let out a deep breath. Hearing those words alone brought me peace. He smiled then. Gorgeous dragon. "I told them about us—told them I was going to try to convince you to give me a chance. It's like a weight has been lifted from all of our shoulders. And I have my brother back."

  I studied his face, understanding the peace in his eyes.

  "I'm sorry about that stupid ring. I . . ." He pursed his lips as if choosing his words. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't think about it, and when I found that ring, I figured it'd do well enough as a prop. I'm sorry that's what it was at the time. If I was choosing jewels for you, I'd choose something entirely different . . . emeralds for your eyes perhaps," he ended on a whisper. "Nothing as colorless as diamonds or opals. Not for you."

  I felt like I was in a dream. But I had spent a week talking myself out of this, so filled with fear of rejection and the instinct to run. "Will this work? We've done this all backward. I'm your wife."

  He chuckled softly. "Yes, you are. My enchanting wife." His eyes roamed over my face as his
expression became serious, filled with need. "Just tell me you want me too, Kira."

  My heart quickened. He'd asked me twice before if I wanted him. The first time, in my hurt and confusion, I'd said no. The second time, I'd said yes, and then I'd left. But now, I saw what he was really asking. Apart from Charlotte and Walter, who'd filled in as many holes as possible in his life, he'd never felt truly wanted by anyone. He'd been needed by his brother, but rejected by every other person that counted. Yes, I wanted him. I wanted him to know he was worthy of being loved. Was I ready to give him my trust again though? And was he willing to give me his?

  "I do, Grayson. I do want you. We just . . . in some ways we know so little about each other."

  "I know what I need to know, and the rest we'll learn."

  I smiled. He took my hand and we began walking along the path toward the front of the maze, the sounds of the party drifting to us on the faint night breeze. "What's your middle name?" he asked.

  I laughed softly. "Isabelle, after my gram. What's yours?"

  "I don't have one."

  I turned to him. "No middle name? It doesn't seem right that someone should have no middle name."

  He shrugged and smiled, his lips curving up into a soft, vulnerable smile. "No, I suppose not."

  I let my eyes drink him in. Standing there under the stars, I saw him so clearly, not just his striking male beauty, but all of him: his intelligence, his loyalty and protective nature, his wit, and his deep sensitivity—the thing he let so few people see. And suddenly I felt awed. I was his wife. This beautiful man had chosen me. I wanted to love him, heal him, transform all his dark memories into light. I wanted to be worthy of him, and I longed for him to love me back.

  "What made you realize how you felt?" I asked, glancing at him and lowering my lashes, suddenly feeling shy.

  He smiled. "Charlotte helped me realize. She encouraged me to take a leap of faith—to let go."