“When I called for reservations, they told me this room symbolizes love, joy, and celebration,” Nick said, drawing Abbey into his arms. “And I’ve found all of them in you.”
“And I, in you,” Abbey murmured, deeply touched by his words and by the love shining in his eyes as he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his. Every kiss was like the first one, she thought, new and exciting.
She was breathless when he broke the kiss, breathless and aching for more. Her hands were eager as she slipped his jacket over his shoulders and tossed it on the sofa. His hands were equally eager as he removed her veil and laid it aside.
Smiling and feeling a little shy, Abbey unfastened his shirt and tossed it on top of his jacket. He didn’t wear an undershirt. Her hands drifted over his shoulders and his chest, moving down, down, to unbuckle his belt. She caught her lower lip between her teeth while he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, then stepped out of his trousers, revealing a pair of black bikini briefs.
She blushed when he slid them off.
“My turn,” he murmured, his voice husky as he moved behind her to unfasten the long row of satin-covered buttons. He lifted the gown over her head, leaving her clad in a lacy white bra, bikini panties, and heels.
Whistling softly, Nick laid the gown aside, then went down on one knee. She gasped in surprise when he kissed her thigh, then kissed his way down her slender legs until he reached her ankles and removed her shoes.
She was a study in perfection, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her breasts a perfect fit for his hand, her belly flat, her hips nicely rounded, her legs long and shapely.
Standing, he lifted his bride into his arms, carried her swiftly to bed, and wrapped her in his embrace.
For a time, he was content to hold her, to rain kisses on her cheeks, her brow, the tip of her nose, her moist pink lips. It was odd to be so close to her and not be aware of the beating of her heart, not be tempted by the scent of her blood.
When the need to fully possess her grew overwhelming, he stripped away the last lacy barriers between them and rose over her.
Abbey twined her arms around his neck, her fingers delving into his hair. Was there anything in all the world as amazing as the feel of bare skin against bare skin? As incredibly arousing as Nick’s hands moving over her body? She explored him with equal abandon, whispered his name as, with his hands and his kisses and his words, he brought her to the brink of fulfillment.
She moaned softly, then cried his name as his body melded with hers, the brief pain swallowed up in wave after wave of ecstasy.
Nick stroked Abbey’s hair, ever so lightly. She slept beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, a faint smile on her lips. Everything he had given up had been worth this one night, he thought. In centuries as a vampire, he had never known such a sense of fulfillment, such feelings of love and acceptance, as he had found in Abbey’s arms.
Perhaps in time her parents and the rest of the Cordova clan would accept him as one of the family. Rane and Savanah and the others had been cordial at the wedding, but there had been no mistaking the distrust in Rane Cordova’s eyes. Not that Nick could blame him. Nick was, after all, still a stranger, a man who had, until recently, been an old and powerful vampire.
And now . . . ?
He stared out the window into the darkness beyond.
What was he now?
Chapter Thirty-One
After a long lazy morning of lovemaking, followed by bathing together in the room’s “rock” shower, Abbey and Nick decided to spend the afternoon at the pool, which entailed a trip to the gift shop so Abbey could find a bathing suit, something she had neglected to include in her trousseau. Nick had been in favor of a hot pink bikini that was little more than two scraps of cloth; Abbey had chosen a red two-piece that was a little more modest.
Now, she sat in the hot tub, shaded by an umbrella, content to watch Nick while he swam laps.
The sun glistened in his hair and on his shoulders as he cut cleanly through the water. He was hers, she thought, all hers, and she couldn’t wait to hold him in her arms again, to feel his skin against her own, to experience again the wonder, the pleasure, of their lovemaking, his body sinking into hers . . .
She bit down on her lower lip. In spite of how wonderful last night had been, there had been something missing. She knew it was the sense of tightly leashed power that had once emanated from Nick. Odd, to think she missed it. More than that, she missed her ability to read his mind. Sitting there, she couldn’t help wondering why she had been able to read his thoughts, to send hers to him, when he was a vampire, but not now, when he was human again. Had he been right? Had his vampire blood somehow enhanced her power and made it possible?
Not that she wasn’t happy he was mortal, or that they could live a normal life together, maybe even have children, but . . .
Abbey shook her head, bewildered by her feelings. She loved him desperately. They were both young and healthy, with their whole lives ahead of them....
She thrust her troubling thoughts aside when Nick climbed out of the water. She couldn’t help noticing that every woman and every teenage girl in the area paused to watch him when he passed by. Well, she couldn’t blame them. Tall, dark, handsome, and muscular, clad in a pair of navy blue trunks, he was a sight to stir any woman’s heart.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked, dropping down on his haunches beside the hot tub.
“Look around. I’m the envy of every woman here.”
“You think so?”
“Even without your vampire allure, they’re all drooling over you and no doubt wishing I was dead.”
“I think you’re delusional, wife. Let’s go stretch out on one of those deck chairs and order something cold to drink.”
“All right.” She took the hand he offered and stepped out of the water, conscious of every female eye in the place watching her.
They found two chairs close together. No sooner had they seated themselves when a waiter hurried over to see if there was anything they wished—a drink? Lunch? A light snack?
Nick ordered a bottle of beer. Abbey asked for a glass of iced tea, sugar, no lemon.
With a sigh, Nick stretched out, eyes closed, his hands locked behind his head. “The sun feels wonderful,” he murmured.
“I don’t understand why it feels any different today than at any other time. I mean, we’ve been out together during the day lots of times.”
“But not like this. Sure, I could be up and around during the day, but I couldn’t sit and bask in the sun’s light.” He gestured at their surroundings. “Not like this. And even though I could endure the sunlight, I was never really comfortable in it. Even Mara prefers the darkness. It’s part of who we are.” He paused. “Part of who I was.”
Abbey chewed on her thumbnail. Had she heard a note of regret in his voice? He kept assuring her that he was happy to be mortal again. Did he mean it?
Or was he just trying to convince himself?
They ate dinner in the famed steakhouse—also decorated with lots of plants, flowers, and pink, Abbey noted. They ordered shrimp cocktails, prime rib with all the trimmings, and a bottle of champagne.
Abbey loved to watch Nick eat. He savored every bite and when she couldn’t finish her steak, he ate that, too. For dessert, they had champagne cake—iced with pink frosting and flowers.
“I’m stuffed,” Abbey said as they left the restaurant.
“Me too.” Nick let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Let’s drive into town and get an ice cream cone.”
“Are you kidding me? After that meal you just wolfed down?”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Oh, all right. But just remember, you can’t divorce me when I’m as big as a house.”
Abbey bought a single scoop of fudge ripple. Nick decided on a hot fudge sundae, with extra hot fudge and double whipped cream.
“Let’s go get an ice cream cone
, the man said.” Abbey shook her head. “All I’ve got to say is that’s some cone!”
Later, while strolling down the sidewalk, Abbey paused now and then to peer into some of the store windows, admiring a pair of black heels, a red sweater, a coffee-colored skirt. Nick insisted on buying everything she admired.
“Think of them as wedding presents,” he said, overriding her objections that he couldn’t buy her everything she liked. “Besides, I can afford it.”
“Are all vampires rich?” Abbey asked. “I mean, I know Mara and Logan have tons of money, and Roshan has a small fortune. My parents and Uncle Rafe are pretty well-off. And so is Vince.”
Nick shrugged. “It’s easy to acquire wealth if you survive long enough. New vampires generally take what they need from their prey.”
“Oh.” She wondered why that had never occurred to her. When you could hypnotize someone and steal their blood, stealing a few dollars while you were at it hardly seemed shocking. Turning to something more pleasant, she said, “We never decided where we’re going to live.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. What about you?”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay near my parents. I love looking after the horses and being able to ride every day.”
He nodded. “All right, then. When we get back to Auburn, we’ll look for a place. I don’t mind being nearby, but I’m not living on your father’s land.”
Abbey smiled. “That works for me.”
Abbey and Nick left the Inn the following morning. With no particular destination in mind, they traveled up the coast, stopping at various points of interest. Abbey thought each view of the ocean was more breathtaking than the last.
They spent the afternoon in Monterey, strolling along the beach, sitting in the sand watching the waves, kissing when they thought no one was looking. Abbey bought a camera at a gift shop and took so many photos of Nick that he threatened to toss the “blasted thing” into the bay. That evening, they ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, and then found a room at a quaint motel, where they spent the rest of the night making love.
In the morning, they drove to Big Sur. It was, Abbey thought, one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen. There were wildflowers everywhere. She clapped with delight as she watched a bunch of sea otters at play, gaped in amazement when a California condor flew by.
But the best thing was being with Nick. He was so relaxed, so enthusiastic, so willing to do whatever she wanted, whether it was window-shopping, lazing on the sand, or posing—with a great deal of reluctance—while she snapped one photo after another.
She let out a wordless cry of protest when he plucked the camera from her hand.
“Hey! You’ve taken hundreds of pictures of me,” he said, holding the camera out of reach. “It’s my turn. Smile, now.”
“I hate having my picture taken.”
“Tough.”
Abbey acquiesced with a sigh. Fair was fair, she thought, striking pose after pose. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said when he’d taken about a million pictures.
“One more,” he said. “Stand over there, by that big rock. Now, lick your lips and look sexy.”
With a sigh of exasperation, Abbey suggested it was time for lunch.
Next thing she knew, they were in the car searching for a restaurant.
Later that night, Abbey reclined in the hotel bathtub. Eyes closed, she was half-asleep when Nick slid into the tub behind her.
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“I was lonely in the other room without you,” he said, his warm breath tickling her ear.
Abbey laughed softly. “Uh-huh.”
She sighed with pleasure when his hands cupped her breasts. Until that night, she would have sworn it was impossible to make love in such a confined space, but Nick proved to be remarkably agile and inventive. Ever the gentleman, he even volunteered to mop up the water they splashed on the floor.
In the morning, they drove to San Jose. Abbey had always wanted to see the Winchester Mystery House, which boasted one hundred and sixty rooms.
It was everything Abbey had expected and more. Hand in hand, they took the Mansion Tour. Abbey was fascinated by everything she saw in the bizarre old home—the staircases that didn’t go anywhere, the doors that opened onto blank walls, the window built into a floor. She learned that a Boston medium had told Sarah Winchester that her family was being haunted by the spirits of those who had been killed by the Winchester Rifle—manufactured by her late husband’s father, Oliver Winchester—and that she should move West and build a house for herself and the spirits. Sarah moved to San Jose and bought an eight-room farmhouse. The medium also told Sarah that if she ever stopped adding to the house, she would die. With that thought in mind, Sarah kept carpenters working twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, for the next thirty-eight years. Since she had inherited twenty million dollars, she had plenty of cash to fuel her obsession.
“That was amazing,” Abbey remarked over dinner that night. “Can you imagine anyone believing that medium’s nonsense?” she asked, spearing a piece of lobster. “I wonder how Sarah Winchester ever got any sleep, what with all that sawing and hammering going on twenty-four-seven.”
Nick shrugged. “I’m wondering why a medium in Boston would send Sarah out West.”
“I don’t know. Maybe the medium had a relative who was an out-of-work carpenter?”
“Right.” Nick gestured at her plate with his fork. “Are you going to finish that?”
“No, help yourself.” She shook her head as he transferred what was left of her lobster to his plate. “One thing about being married to you, we’ll probably never have any leftovers.”
“Very funny,” Nick muttered. “What shall we do tomorrow?”
“I think I’m ready to go back to Auburn and go house hunting,” Abbey said, folding her napkin and placing it on the table. “How about you?”
He nodded. “Sounds good to me. How big a place do you want?”
“I don’t know. Something big, but not too big. With a wraparound porch, and a balcony on the second floor. And a sunny kitchen with a pantry. And a fireplace in the master bedroom. And his-and-hers walk-in closets.”
“Anything else?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so.”
“All right, wife. Tomorrow we’ll see if we can find your dream house.”
As it turned out, they found exactly what they were looking for the next afternoon while browsing real estate websites on Abbey’s phone. It was a two-story, four-bedroom house, with fireplaces in the living room, the den, and the master bedroom; a large kitchen; a dining room paneled in oak; three bathrooms; and a laundry room.
“And it’s only twenty minutes from my dad’s place,” Abbey exclaimed, then grimaced when she saw the asking price. “Can we afford that much?”
“Not to worry, love. It’ll be yours before the sun sets.”
They drove to the real estate office as soon as they returned to Auburn. The Realtor was more than willing to show them the property, which sat on a large, fenced lot.
Abbey fell in love with the house the minute she walked in the door. “This is it!” she exclaimed. “We’ll take it!”
Nick shot the Realtor a wry grin. “Not much point in trying to talk you down on the price, is there?”
“Not much,” the Realtor said, smiling from ear to ear. “I think she just closed the deal.”
Abbey was surprised at how quickly married life settled into a routine. She spent the morning at the ranch, feeding the stock, mucking the stalls, grooming and exercising the horses. Nick often accompanied her. He seemed to enjoy working outdoors. She certainly enjoyed watching him, since he usually took his shirt off. Three or four times a week, they went riding together.
One afternoon, after picking up a load of hay and straw, Nick called her up to the loft.
Curious, she climbed the ladder, her mouth falling open when she saw Nick stretched out on an old blanket,
buck naked.
“Ever made love in a hayloft?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“No, but I have a feeling I’m about to.”
He patted the blanket beside him. “Come here, darlin’.”
Feeling suddenly bold, Abbey tugged her T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Then, with Nick providing the proper background music, she did a slow striptease.
She let out a shriek when he sprang to his feet and carried her to the blanket where he made slow, wicked love to her until the sun went down.
Rane continued to pay Abbey for looking after the stock. She enjoyed having a little money of her own, even though Nick had given her a credit card and told her to buy whatever she liked.
Several afternoons a week, Nick took her shopping for furniture for the new house. Once again, he gave her carte blanche, telling her to buy whatever she wanted.
“Don’t you have any preferences?” she asked one afternoon. “Modern or country? Italian or French? Oak or walnut?”
“Not really. Furniture is furniture. Just buy something comfortable to sit on. And a great big bed,” he added with a wink, “and I’ll leave the colors and the style to you.”
Evenings were the best times. After dinner, they often sat on the swing on the porch of the cottage, discussing the news or the weather, or simply holding hands and enjoying the beauty of the night before going to bed.
Some nights, they didn’t make it as far as the bedroom. But Abbey didn’t mind. In the living room, in the kitchen, in the bathtub, on the floor, on the sofa, it didn’t matter as long as she was in Nick’s arms. She never tired of looking at him, holding him, learning every inch of his body from head to toe and back up again.
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