by I. T. Lucas
Tomorrow, when his parents arrived, Andrew would have to smooth things over between his dad and Kian, or the two stubborn mules would keep arguing and upset Nathalie.
He wasn’t going to let it happen.
She would have her princess-in-a-castle dream wedding, and nothing was going to tarnish her day.
With a sigh, he opened the door to the adjacent bathroom, and his jaw dropped. “Nathalie, you have to see this.”
She pushed by him. “Wow. This is like something straight from a fairy tale.”
Someone had gone all out with that bathroom. Whimsical murals adorned the walls and the ceiling, ornate porcelain legs supported the bathtub and the vanities, and everything that could’ve been possibly gilded was. Gilded mirrors, gilded faucets shaped like swan necks, and gilded towel holders: A Disneyland-style, fairy princess bathroom.
“Do you think they did it for us?” The tired look gone from her face, Nathalie’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Kian mentioned that they were renovating the castle a section at a time. Perhaps they did this one after hearing your wish for a princess-style wedding.”
Nathalie turned in a circle and laughed. “That’s why Sari was so eager to escort us to our room. I was wondering why she was so bubbly, but I assumed she was the easily excitable type, which didn’t really make sense. Her job here is the same as Kian’s in Los Angeles. You need a level head to hold a position like this.”
The gesture was so over the top that he didn’t know how to react. What do you say to someone who’d had done so much for you?
A thank-you just wasn’t enough.
Nathalie seemed to ponder the same problem. “How are we going to thank her for this?”
Giving Sari his firstborn was out of a question but… “Maybe we can name our daughter after her? Just the middle name, that is.”
Nathalie smiled. “I like it. Sari. It’s a unique name. It sounds exotic.”
Andrew grimaced. “It sounds like an Indian dress.”
“What if we spell it differently?”
“We could, but I still vote for saving it for the middle name.”
An idea had been brewing in Andrew’s mind for the past week, but he was waiting for the right time to approach Nathalie about it.
His hand reached for the pendant he was wearing under his shirt. He’d picked it up from the jeweler the morning of their flight and hadn’t shown it to Nathalie yet.
Andrew didn’t feel like it was a proper substitute for the tattoo that he’d carried on his body. The white gold pendant, hanging from a thin chain around his neck, was just a piece of jewelry, not a memorial for his friends.
But if he named his daughter Phoenix, Andrew would not only pay tribute to their memory, but in some small way invite them to share in his legacy. His immortal daughter would carry their unit’s symbol into eternity.
He hoped Nathalie wouldn’t object.
A disturbing thought must’ve crossed her mind because Nathalie’s smile wilted. “We shouldn’t talk about names until the baby is born. It’s bad luck,” she whispered.
Andrew gathered her into his arms. “When did you become so superstitious? First the dress that I wasn’t allowed to see, and now this baby naming thing. Is it something new?”
She nodded into his chest.
“Why?”
“Because I’m scared. I feel like I’ve been too lucky and my luck is about to run out. I have all I’ve ever dreamed of, and I’m afraid of losing it.” Her words came out in a shaky whisper.
Wrapping his arms tighter around her, Andrew kissed the top of her head. The truth was that he had no words of reassurance for Nathalie because he’d often felt the same. As if happiness was a rare commodity, a finite resource, and if you had a lot of it, fate or God or the universe wouldn’t let you keep that much for yourself. Some would be taken away.
Instead, he said the only thing that was the honest truth and was hers to keep forever. “I love you, Nathalie. And I always will.”
Chapter 46: Nathalie
Nathalie’s full bladder demanded her attention, waking her up far too early for someone who was supposed to still be jet-lagged. She wanted to stay cuddled with Andrew under the blankets, but it refused to be denied. Seven or eight weeks pregnant, and she was already suffering every imaginable symptom.
Was it because she was older?
Thirty wasn’t that old for having her first baby. Women were starting families at an older age now. Heck, her own mother had been forty-five when she’d gotten pregnant with her. But like everything else in Nathalie’s life, it seemed nothing ever came easy.
Which reminded her that Andrew’s parents were due to arrive. Beside her Andrew was snoring lightly, looking calm and content as can be, while she felt like throwing up, and it had nothing to do with morning sickness.
Nathalie was a nervous wreck, but it wasn’t marrying Andrew that had her panties in a wad, or even imagining walking down the aisle with hundreds of people watching; it was the prospect of meeting Andrew’s mother.
God, how she wished she could indulge in a glass of wine or two to calm the jitters. If everything had gone according to schedule, Andrew’s parents had arrived at the airport about half an hour ago, and the helicopter sent to pick them up would be landing at the keep shortly.
Just great. The dreaded first meeting with her future mother-in-law had to occur the morning of the wedding.
Dr. Anita Spivak, the accomplished and saintly pediatrician, intimidated the hell out of her, and that was even before she’d met the woman face to face. Nathalie didn’t know what was more impressive about Andrew’s mother, the fact that she was a medical doctor, no small achievement by any standards, or that she was volunteering in Africa, a dangerous and unforgiving place.
She would be so unimpressed with her future daughter-in-law. A baker who didn’t finish college and had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. What if Anita suspected Nathalie of doing so on purpose to entrap Andrew?
Ugh. She’d better take care of that bladder.
Barefoot, she padded to the bathroom and took care of that first, then debated whether to go back to bed or jump into the shower.
She was too strung up to fall asleep again.
Too much was going on.
As if the upcoming meeting with Andrew’s parents weren’t enough, Bhathian’s connecting flight had been canceled. The last she’d heard from him, he’d said he was scrambling to find an alternative. Hopefully, he would make it on time to the wedding.
If not, she was going to make everyone wait.
As per Bridget’s instructions, Nathalie didn’t wash her hair. Appointing herself as Nathalie’s stylist, Bridget was going to wash it later. Amanda had put herself in charge of her makeup, and Syssi was going to help with the dress and whatever else was needed.
Wrapped in a thick towel, Nathalie went back and nudged Andrew, feeling a little guilty about waking him up after only a few hours of sleep. “Andrew, wake up, baby, we have tons of things to do.”
His lips lifted in a smile. Opening his eyes, Andrew moved with that new unnatural swiftness she was starting to get used to. In a second, her towel was gone, and she found herself under his big, warm body, his morning erection poised at her entrance.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” Andrew buried his nose in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. “You smell so good.” He kissed the soft spot then nipped it, sending shivers straight down to her center. Any other morning, she would have loved to continue their play, but not today. She was too stressed.
“We can’t, Andrew. Your parents will be here any minute now, and you’re still in bed. You need to get up.”
He swiveled his hips, the tip of his shaft sliding against her wet entry. Damn, even when stressed out of her mind, the man never failed to turn her on.
“How about a little quickie? Two minutes. I promise.”
Nathalie slapped his shoulder. “Save it for the wedding night, tiger. Now hop into the shower an
d get ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Andrew made a pouty face as he rolled off her, then pointed a finger at Nathalie. “I’m holding you up to it, and I’m going to collect even if you are exhausted and fall asleep.”
Nathalie climbed down the insanely tall bed and collected her towel from the floor. “I promise, I won’t. And if I do, you have my permission to do wicked things to me while I’m out.”
“Ooh, kinky, I like.” He waggled his brows.
“Gross, if you ask me, but fine.” She wrapped the towel around her body and headed for the closet. Andrew was still at the same spot she’d left him, no doubt ogling her ass. Incorrigible. But as always, he managed to make her feel better. “Get moving, Andrew, we don’t have all day.”
He was done in less than five minutes. If there was one thing that years of military service had taught Andrew, it was how to use time efficiently in the bathroom. She didn’t want to know what else it had taught him. But as long as it had kept him alive she was grateful for it.
“Ready?” He clasped her hand.
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
Andrew peered down at her face and frowned. “Why are you so anxious? You’re not getting cold feet, are you? Because if you do, it’s too late. I’m marrying you even if I have to do it caveman style.” He pulled her along, his long legs quickly eating the distance between their room and the main staircase.
She had to strain her leg muscles to keep up. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that? I’ve never heard of a caveman wedding.”
“Because there is none. I’ll throw you over my shoulder, proclaim in a loud voice, so every male in my tribe hears me, that you’re mine, and carry you to my cave, where I tie you to whatever cavemen use for bedposts and have my wicked way with you.”
If it were only that simple.
But then she wouldn’t have her dream wedding.
She tugged on his hand to get his attention. “Slow down, Andrew. I can’t walk that fast.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He stopped and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You walk at whatever pace is comfortable for you, and I’ll follow your lead.”
“Thank you.”
The helicopter pad was in the back, next to the stables and the barns and a large vegetable garden. Sari’s people must’ve either striven for self-sufficiency or liked to keep busy with farm work.
It was a beautiful, cloudless morning, and the long walk was invigorating. Andrew kept his promise and didn’t rush ahead, giving her plenty of time to look around. Whenever a barn’s or a stable’s doors were open, Nathalie peeked inside, curious to see the animals, but only a couple looked like they were used for that purpose; most housed a more modern form of transportation—cars.
At the helipad, they joined Syssi and Kian.
“I’m so excited.” Syssi pulled Nathalie away from Andrew. “I can’t wait for my parents to meet you. They are going to love you.”
“You think so? Why? I’m no one special.”
Syssi’s eyelids peeled wide. “Are you kidding me? The girl who managed to put an end to Andrew’s bachelor status? My mother is going to kiss both your hands and thank you.”
That was nice to know. Apparently, any female would do, as long as she managed to drag Andrew to the altar. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that she didn’t need to be anybody or prove anything to be accepted; on the other, it was an insult because she didn’t need to be special or wonderful or anything other than someone with ovaries.
“Besides.” Syssi leaned and whispered in her ear. “You’re a knockout, and you can bake. A killer combination.”
That was much better. Hopefully, Syssi’s parents would share their daughter’s opinion.
Chapter 47: Andrew
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Andrew kissed Nathalie’s cheek, careful not to dislodge the huge rollers Bridget was putting in her hair.
Nathalie made a face. “I look ridiculous, but thank you.”
Andrew glanced around and chuckled. Their bedroom suite had been converted into a bridal command center, bustling with activity and saturated with estrogen.
He was definitely not invited, and his presence was tolerated with the understanding that he was just picking up his tuxedo and going to Kian and Syssi’s suite—the groom’s and his best men’s headquarters.
Kian had promised Cuban cigars, and the best Scottish whiskey money could buy. Great, but Andrew would’ve rather stayed with his bride and watched her getting ready.
Even with a helmet of rollers that made her look like an alien spacewoman, his Nathalie was stunningly beautiful. And to think she’d been worried his parents wouldn’t like her. Who in their right mind wouldn’t? She’d enchanted them by simply being herself.
She was perfect.
“Andrew, stop standing there like a doofus and move it.” Syssi gave him a gentle shove.
“I don’t get why I need to go. Kian stayed with you before the wedding, and you guys walked down the aisle together.”
He’d caught a guilty look on Nathalie’s face before Syssi shoved him again.
“I need to pick up something from my room. I’ll be right back,” Syssi called to the girls as she opened the door and walked out with him. “You shouldn’t complain, Andrew. Nathalie just wants a traditional wedding.”
He swung the tuxedo bag over his shoulder. “I was just teasing.”
“Don’t. Not today. She is too stressed. Bhathian called earlier.”
“I know. He should arrive more or less on time.”
“If everything goes well, he is scheduled to land in an hour. Which means he’ll be here in two or more. I told Nathalie that forty-five minutes’ delay is not a big deal, and that everyone would just spend more time schmoozing, but it didn’t do any good. She is still stressing.”
Andrew sighed. “This was supposed to be her dream wedding. I thought she would be floating on a cloud. I don’t get why she can’t relax and enjoy herself.”
Syssi kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Go and have fun with the guys. The girls and I will take care of Nathalie. We can’t give her wine, but we will get her to loosen up with some goofing around.”
“Can you videotape?”
She slapped his back. “Get out of here already.”
“Didn’t you need to get something from your room?”
“Nah, it was just an excuse to escort you out. See you at the altar, big brother.”
Cigar smoke and male laughter greeted Andrew as he opened the door to Kian’s suite. The guys were out on the balcony, but they had left the French doors open, and all the smoke was getting inside.
Sari was going to kill them for stinking up her castle.
“Andrew, my man, I have a cigar with your name on it,” Kian waved him over. He hadn’t been joking. A red bow was tied to the big-ass cigar, with his name printed on it.
“A bit much? Wouldn’t you say?” He took the cigar and the cutter Kian was handing him. Andrew had asked the guys not to throw him a bachelor party, and this was the compromise; a wedding day guys’ get-together.
“Don’t look at me. I sent this clown to buy them.” Kian pointed at Anandur.
Anandur shrugged and took another swig from a bottle of whiskey. “Seemed like a good idea when the sales girl offered to personalize the cigars. Gave me more time to admire her bosom.”
Arwel chucked an empty cigar wrapper at him. “I’m sure you did more than admire it.”
Anandur huffed. “A gentleman doesn’t tell.”
“Too bad you’re not a gentleman,” Kian said.
Anandur arched a brow. “Have you ever seen me treating a lady with disrespect? Give me one example.”
Kian frowned but came up with nothing.
“Aha, you can’t. I’m a perfect gentleman.” With a slight bow, he handed his bottle to Andrew. “And I’m even sharing my booze in a very gentlemanly manner.”
Andrew pushed the hand with the bottle away. “Keep it. I’d rather have a beer.�
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The guys went silent as if he’d committed blasphemy.
“Beer? On your wedding day? Shame on you, Andrew,” Arwel slurred, letting his thick Scottish accent take over, and handed him an unopened bottle of whiskey. “Don’t drink it all. Your lovely bride will not be happy if you show up drunk.” He finished his declaration with a burp.
Chapter 48: Nathalie
Nathalie’s phone rang, but there was no way she could reach it. Her beautiful dress required careful maneuvering around furniture. Besides, her nail polish was still wet.
Syssi answered. “Bhathian. Are you calling from the airport?” He must’ve responded in the affirmative. “Great, we are waiting for you.” She smiled at Nathalie and gave her the thumbs up. “No. No way. Nathalie won’t let us start without you,” she told him. Bhathian must’ve argued because Syssi kept shaking her head. “I can’t give her the phone, she has wet nail polish on.” Syssi rolled her eyes as she listened. “A suit is fine. Not everyone is wearing a tux.”
From Syssi’s side of the conversation, Nathalie surmised that Bhathian didn’t have a tux. “Tell him he can come in jeans if he wants to. I don’t care. As long as he is here for the ceremony nothing else matters.”
Syssi smiled. “He says he loves you.”
“Tell him I love him too.”
Naturally, Syssi didn’t have to say anything because he’d heard her. In this room, Nathalie was the only one who’d heard just half of the conversation. She would have to endure that, and other human limitations, for the next seven and a half months.
“He is going to be here in about an hour,” Syssi said for her benefit.
“That’s great. Just half an hour delay.” Nathalie waved her hands in the air to speed up the nail polish drying and hardening. She hadn’t planned on having her nails painted, preferring the natural look of a good manicure, but when Amanda got something into her head, there was no changing her mind. It was better to just go with it.
