A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3)

by Adams, Noelle

  He was trying to hold on to his offended pose, but she could see something like glee glinting out of his expressions as he watched her laugh.

  She took a few steps forward and collapsed in laughter against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as she shook and wheezed.

  When she finally got control of herself and pulled away, Lance was smiling—warm and wry at the same time. “Now what the hell were you thinking with this ensemble?” she asked. “And why are you moving all the furniture?”

  “Ah. Well, you see, I needed to get the ambience right.” He went over and turned on the stereo, and pleasantly twangy country music blared out. “You seemed to have a good time the other night at Ramblers, at least before you got drunk off your ass. So I thought we could dance.”

  She gaped. “You want to dance?”

  “Yep. Rosa taught me how to two-step. She also advised me on my outfit.”

  Helpless laughter threatened to strangle her again. “Rosa was in on this?”

  “Oh yes. She was a big help, so you’ll have to thank her. After we dance.”

  “You’re serious.” She stared at his extended hand without taking it.

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’m not going to let all those lessons go to waste.”

  “You had more than one lesson?”

  “Two, to be precise. But they were exhausting. That Rosa is a real taskmaster.”

  Savannah couldn’t resist the glint in his eyes. She took his hand and let him lead her in a very respectable two-step around the empty space in their living room floor.

  She had no idea why she enjoyed it so much, but she felt almost giddy as they danced through three different songs, trying out different steps and turns as they got more comfortable with the basics. When the music shifted to a slow song, Lance wrapped both his arms around her waist, and she twined her arms around his neck. They swayed together, and she ended up resting her cheek against his shoulder.

  She loved this man. So much.

  And she could no longer tell herself that trusting him was too big a risk.

  It didn’t feel like a risk. It felt as natural to her as breathing.

  He loved her too. She knew it.

  He’d put on cowboy boots and learned to two-step to give her this one evening.

  “Lance?” Her voice cracked strangely. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

  She felt his body tighten just a little. “Yeah?”

  She looked up and saw the question on his face. She also saw warmth and trust and knowledge and understanding and devotion and humor and generosity.

  She saw love.

  She knew it for what it was.

  She licked her lips and tried to say what she needed to say. Nothing came out.

  After a minute, Lance’s eyebrows drew together. His arms were still holding her in more of an embrace than a dance position. “What is it, baby? Do you want to say something?”

  She did. She was trying. But—damn it—she couldn’t get the words out.

  Before she did, a shadow of her old self rose up inside her. Her tough self. Her always-guarded self. It felt safe, so she gave it control of her words. She adjusted her hands on Lance’s shoulders and asked, “What happened to your Aston Martin?”

  He made a strange noise in his throat, and his features relaxed slightly. Not in relief. More like in disappointment. But he didn’t sound angry or upset as he said, “Oh. You noticed that, did you?”

  “Yes, I did. It hasn’t been in the garage all week. Is it broken and in the shop awaiting an obscure part to arrive from England to fix it?”

  He let out a long breath and eased her closer to him again, so they weren’t looking each other in the eye anymore. One of his hands rubbed her back. “No. It’s not broken.”

  “Then where it is?” Her cheek was resting against his shirt.

  “I sold it,” he admitted almost reluctantly.

  She froze. “Wh-what?”

  “I sold it.”

  She jerked away from him so she could peer at his face. “You sold it?”

  He looked embarrassed. Sheepish. She’d never seen him so self-conscious before. Not even once. “I sold it. I sold the car.”

  “What? Why?” The room was starting to spin, and she crossed her arms at her stomach in an attempt to hold herself steady.

  He made a face and glanced away. “I didn’t need it.”

  “But you loved it. You loved that car!”

  “I know. But you were right. About me. About it.” He was almost mumbling. He obviously didn’t want to be saying this right now. “About how I’ve spent a lifetime of getting everything I wanted without even trying. About how I’ve wasted money and opportunities and so much of what other people work themselves to the bone for. Even after I thought I’d changed and gotten better, two weeks ago I hurt you unforgivably because what I desperately wanted didn’t come easily enough. I don’t want to... I don’t want to be like that. Not anymore. And I know there was nothing intrinsically wrong with owning that car, but it felt to me like... like a symbol. I needed to get rid of it. I want...” He cleared his throat and tugged at his hair. “I want to be a better person. So I’m trying.”

  A sob forced its way from her heart to her throat. Then lodged there in a painful lump. She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion. “Lance,” she whimpered.

  “See,” he said, scowling with familiar impatience. “This is why I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t want this.”

  His tone broke through the wave of adoration she’d been feeling. She dropped her hand and frowned. “You didn’t want what?”

  “This.” He waved a hand toward her. “All the big, tear-filled eyes and trembling lips and awed expressions. I didn’t want you to say anything to me because of what I did if you didn’t really mean it.”

  “What?” she snapped, her soft feelings transforming into a familiar annoyance with a man who couldn’t help but be infuriating. “You don’t get to control what my eyes and lips do. And exactly how spineless do you think I am? You really think I’m going to be so blown away by one gesture that I’d fall into a puddle of goo at your feet?”

  “I don’t know.” His tone was as sharp as hers, and most of the tenderness had vanished. “You looked pretty gooey just now, and it was a pretty big gesture.”

  “A big gesture? You think getting rid of your phallic symbol of a car is that mind-blowing? And I’ll tell you right now. There’s nothing sentimental about me. So if I tell you I love you, it’s not because I’m out of my mind with the sappy aftermath of some kind of romantic gesture you made. It’s because I mean it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Mean it?”

  “Yes, I mean it!” She scowled at him because there was no one in the world as annoying as he was.

  “You love me?” He was breathing heavily, his forehead glistening slightly with perspiration. His hands were clenched at his side, a dead giveaway he was tense.

  She’d once believed Lance Carlyle was never tense.

  “Yes, I love you. I thought you already knew that. Isn’t that what you told me all smug and all-knowing a couple of weeks ago?” She stopped talking abruptly as she heard what she’d said.

  “Savannah?” Lance rasped, something new taking over his eyes. Not impatient sarcasm or irritation or even the earnest tenderness of before.

  It was deep and strong and sharp and Lance-like.

  It was hope.

  She took a ragged breath and nodded. Kept nodding. Couldn’t stop. “I do, Lance. I love you. For real. Not because of the car thing. Or the cowboy boots. Or all the romantic dinner dates you’ve been setting up for the past two weeks. I love you just because you’re you. Because there’s no one else in the world like you. I can finally say it. I love you, Lance Carlyle. I really do.”

  Because she was watching him in that moment, she saw what happened. She saw a force of emotion overwhelm him for a moment, causing his handso
me features to contort and his shoulders to shake a few times. Then she saw him blow it out with a long, shuddering exhale.

  His face relaxed, and his mouth twitched just slightly. “It’s about time you got it said.”

  She burst into helpless laughter—or maybe they were tears. Either way, she flung herself into his arms. He hugged her and kissed her and kept mumbling out that he loved her.

  After a few minutes, she finally straightened up, and he loosened his arms, then leaned down to give her a few little kisses on and around her mouth.

  She smiled against his lips. “I do love you, Lance,” she said. “I guess I have for a while now and didn’t know it. Or was too scared to admit it. But I want to say that you didn’t have to sell your car. I mean, I would have loved you anyway. Every part of you. I never expected—”

  “I know that, baby. I know. I didn’t sell the car to earn your love. I did it for me. Like I said before, it was bothering me. Starting to feel like a symbol.”

  With a sidelong look, she whispered, “A symbol of your penis.”

  He laughed against her hair. “Yes. Probably. That and more. Parts of me I don’t want to indulge. I needed to get rid of it. I needed to for me.”

  She nodded, understanding and loving him even more for what he was trying to tell her. “What did you do with the money from the sale?”

  He glanced away. “I donated it,” he muttered, almost under his breath.

  “What? You did? Where?”

  “To Hope House.”

  Hope House was a local nonprofit that included a food bank, a youth center, and a literacy program for people in need. Savannah raised her hand to the ache in her chest at that piece of information.

  Lance gave a little snarl. “See. Here come the wide eyes and trembling lips again. I knew you couldn’t resist, no matter how tough you pretend to be.”

  “Oh you asshole! You fell in love with me first. Don’t forget it. I held out a lot longer than you. I’m tougher than you’ll ever be, and I can resist you just fine.” She swatted his chest lightly and then hugged him because the truth was there was no way she could resist him. Any part of him.

  He might as well have been created just for her.

  He hugged her back. Then they started to kiss. And the kisses took a decidedly carnal turn that left most of her clothes on the floor of the living room.

  Lance ended up carrying her into the bedroom and laying her down on the bed, gazing down at her for a minute with nothing but love in his eyes.

  It was only then that he took his cowboy boots off.

  THREE WEEKS LATER, Savannah stretched out on a chaise in the sun under a blanket at nine o’clock in the morning. The breeze was strong, but the air was warmer along the coast of southern Florida.

  The waters of the Atlantic stretched out in the distance. She’d seen dolphins earlier, as she and Lance had been drinking coffee. She’d never been on a yacht before, but Russell and Lorraine’s was definitely amazing. It was a motor yacht, not a sailboat, so although Lance didn’t get to indulge his passion for sailing, they could make much better speed and time down the coast. The accommodations were luxurious, and the crew was friendly and competent. It was like having their own private cruise ship without all the crowds and stomach bugs.

  They were going to stop in Palm Beach that afternoon, but until then she had the morning with nothing to do but relax in the sun. She’d been trying to read a book for the past three days and hadn’t gotten past chapter two because she kept getting distracted by the views or the seabirds or the sunshine or the desire to nap.

  Or Lance.

  He’d been as gleeful as a boy ever since they’d gotten on board.

  It was Savannah who’d suggested they take Russell up on his offer of the yacht after all. She couldn’t bring herself to take two weeks off—maybe she’d get there eventually, but right now a week was all her guilt and responsibility would allow her. But it was enough to make Lance very happy. And to satisfy Savannah that she was making progress in overcoming her hang-ups.

  So both she and Lance rearranged their schedules to free up a week, and Savannah had had no regrets about the decision at all.

  She’d just picked up her book and read two sentences when Lance appeared on the deck, looking casual and windblown in his khakis and untucked button-up shirt. He grinned at her as he approached, then leaned over to lift the corner of her blanket so he could squeeze under it with her.

  She scooted over to make room for him, glad for the warmth of his body. They might be off the coast of Florida, but they were on the ocean and it was December. She cuddled against him, happy to exchange space for the body heat.

  “Were you finally reading your book?” he asked.

  “I read two sentences. But I blame you for my failure to get any further. You’re always distracting me.”

  He nuzzled her hair. “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about me distracts you so much?”

  “Well, let’s start with your irritating personality. And then your penchant for always arguing with my perfectly reasonable statements. And then your insistence on always being in my space.”

  “Your space?”

  “Yes. Like I was on this chaise, perfectly comfortable, and you came barging in and taking up more than half my room.”

  He chuckled. “Tell me to move then.”

  “I don’t want you to move,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “You’re like a live-in radiator. So I guess I’ll keep you.”

  “Good. Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go now that I’ve finally got you.”

  That made her smile. She even found the energy for a kiss. She wasn’t in the mood for anything sexy—not outside with this chilly air. But she felt fond and cozy and closer to him than she’d felt to anyone else in the thirty-one years she’d been alive.

  He must have seen it on her face because he murmured, “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m smiling about you.”

  “Oh. That’s okay then.” He was smiling too, and she could hear it in his voice.

  But there was another edge to his tone. One she didn’t recognize. She adjusted so she could peer at his face. “Y’okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You look kind of... I don’t know. Is something going on?”

  “No. Well, maybe.” He swallowed. “Do you know what today is?”

  Her smile broadened. “Yes, of course I know what today is. It’s our one-year anniversary. I have a present for you downstairs, but I didn’t want to make you feel awkward if you forgot about it.”

  He huffed. “Give me a little credit. I didn’t forget it about it. Marrying you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Surely you already knew that.”

  “Well, I knew it was a good thing. For me and for you. But saying it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you is a pretty dramatic statement.”

  “Well, it is.” He sounded almost grumpy. “The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She leaned over to kiss him. “For me too.” She felt his body. “So do you have a present for me too?” she asked, excited now that she knew he hadn’t forgotten about the day.

  “Yeah. It’s hidden downstairs. So don’t go poking around until it’s time.”

  “When will it be time?”

  “Later.” He took a deep breath, reaching over to fiddle with her hand. “I did want to do something now though.” He had that strange edge to his tone again, and it made her nervous.

  “Do what?” Her stomach twisted just a little.

  He pulled the two rings off the finger of her left hand and climbed off the chaise. She was staring at him in confusion as he lowered himself down onto one knee.

  She gaped like an idiot and sat up straight, still holding out her hand in the same position he’d left it when he released it.

  He gave her a self-deprecating smile—
almost laughing at himself—and reached for her hand.

  In her eagerness, she pushed it toward him, leading to a minor collision of their knuckles.

  He shook his head, fond laughter in his eyes. “If you wouldn’t be so bossy about it, I could do this better.”

  “I’m not bossy. I didn’t say anything!”

  “You just thrust your hand in my face, making it very clear I needed to hurry up.”

  She giggled and waved her hand right in front of his nose. “Well, you’re kind of slow, you know. So hurry it up.” After a moment, she added in a soft mutter, “Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.”

  He was laughing as he took her hand. But he met her eyes and said thickly, “I love you, Savannah Emerson, and I always will. So will you marry me? For real? Forever?”

  She nodded and kept nodding. “Yes! Of course I will. So please put the rings back on. My finger looks naked without them.”

  He slid on the wedding and engagement rings. Then he raised her hand to kiss the bands.

  She was trying (and mostly succeeding) not to cry as she pulled him back up on the chaise, drawing him back under the blanket so she could hug and kiss him without getting cold.

  They stayed a long time under the blanket. They did a lot of kissing and laughing and talking about the future, and they only argued twice.

  Epilogue

  ON A SATURDAY EVENING in June of the following year, Savannah was playing a competitive game of Scrabble with Lance and her parents.

  Her mother and father were both very good players, and Savannah had been playing games with them since she was old enough to read. But they were also fairly laid-back about who won or lost.

  Savannah and Lance were not laid-back at all—not when they were competing against each other.

  They’d had dinner together—spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread—and then they began the game after they’d done the dishes. It had gotten off to a bad start as far as Savannah was concerned when Lance managed to add five of his letters on her excellent word strophe to make catastrophes and hit a triple-word score. She’d eventually managed to rally, but she hadn’t caught up to him yet.