Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2012 London Saint James
ISBN: 978-1-77130-170-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Marie Medina
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
This story is dedicated to all the readers and fans of my work who make it possible to live my dream of being a writer. And to my publisher who has supported me from the start.
Thanks to my cover artists who never disappoint, and make such rocking covers!
Thanks to my editor for helping me polish my work.
And finally, to the person who holds my heart. Thank you for your continued love and support.
XoXo
London
THE GOOD SISTER: PART TWO
London Saint James
Copyright © 2012
We choose those we like; with those we love, we have no say in the matter.
—Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic’s Notebook, 1960
PART ONE
Prologue
Paris
A dream. It must be. This girl who feared everything. Who wished to be someone other than she was and lived more in a fantasy world of her own making, rather than the real world, had taken on her fears in order to chase after a man. A man who led her from her home in California to a brothel in the French countryside. Along with the help of the infamous Jacqueline Claudette Rousseau, and all of her new “sisters,” that girl obtained what she always thought she longed for—Reid Addison’s attention.
It wasn’t a dream. I’m that girl. Odd, I gained Reid’s desire, but never what I truly needed. Love. And here I am, in Paris, France. Naked. Body resting atop of Lord Ashton Archer like a blanket, after having experienced the most earth shattering orgasms of my life. And while I climaxed more times than I can count, I was still a virgin, to my own dismay. But even more remarkable than the fact I officially remained “pure,” was what Ashton asked me.
Did he say, marry me?
“You want to marry me?” I asked.
“Trinity, I wish to marry you, love you, and worship you for all the days of my life. To hold you in our bed each night, loving you until we both are languid and sated from our efforts. I long to wake up with you at my side. To gaze upon your beautiful face as each new day dawns. I want to give you the world and make you my world. Say you will give me my greatest wish, my dove, and I shall spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you, you made the right decision.” Ashton skimmed his fingertip down my cheek. “Say you will become my wife.”
“You really mean this? You want to marry me?”
“I want only you, my dove.”
“But what will people say? They will think we’re crazy.”
Ashton intertwined his finger into one of my long curls, knuckles caressing my right temple as he teased the strand. “I have no concern with people. I love you, and I wish to make you my wife.”
“But what about your obligations? Your family, and my family—”
“Marry me, Trinity. We will marry today, and work out all the rest for a formal wedding that will appease our duties as well our families.”
I turned my head to see the sun rising out the windows, feeling something for this man that should be impossible. I had no idea how this would work. He, the heir to a ducal dynasty, and I, a nobody, who until recently lived life vicariously through secretly watching others. The differences between Ashton and me were vast, but I loved Ashton.
The realization blazed through me. My journey to find Reid Addison led me straight to Ashton. Was I fated to come to France? I’d been wrong when I thought Reid was the start to my life. It was Lord Archer. It was always Lord Archer, and deep down I knew it.
“Tell me, my dove. What are you thinking?” Ashton asked.
I gazed back into Ashton’s face and said, “It’s always been you.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Ashton. I will marry you.”
Ashton tugged my body up, sliding me against him until his lips reached mine. He kissed me with a passion.
“I love you, Trinity,” he said, using his mouth to caress my eyelids, my cheekbones, chin, jaw, ear then resting it upon my lips.
When he finally freed me from his kiss, I spoke the words I’d wanted to say.
“You never allowed me to tell you about my heart. Do you wish to hear of it?”
“Yes. I wish to hear of your heart, my dove.”
I looked into the most amazing eyes I would ever see. “I do love you, Ashton.”
“Tell me once more,” he said with a smile so bright it outshined the rising sun.
I placed my hand to his jaw. Our attention locked upon each other. “I love you.”
Ashton wrapped me within the safe cocoon of his arms, combing his fingers through my hair. I nuzzled my head into the crook of his shoulder, yawning.
“Sleep, my beautiful Trinity,” he crooned. “Dream of happy things.”
And I did.
Chapter One
I woke, due to the lack of warmth, knowing Ashton was no longer in bed. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Early afternoon. I stretched, wrapped up in a sheet, jumped out of bed, and walked into the living room to see Ashton showered, dressed, and talking to someone on the phone. He smiled at me, raised his free hand, and crooked his fingers. He wanted me to come to him.
I clutched the bed sheet. Felt it flow then tangle. I kicked my feet, trying to straighten it out. The material twisted in an evil knot. I frowned with the effort of untangling the mess as I walked. When I almost tripped, I let out a huffing squeak. My wild curls draped around my face. I tried to blow some of them from my eyes and stumbled once more. I fought a valiant battle yet somehow the sheet seemed to be winning so I gave up, dropping the sheet all together.
Ashton’s eyes widened. He ended the call. “Do not move,” he said.
“But—”
“Stand still. I wish to gaze upon your perfection.”
I knew I must be a fright. My hair a wild, unruly mess and I had not showered. I was standing in a lumpy pile of crinkled bed sheets and figured I looked like a naked, crazed bush-woman.
“Ashton, I cannot stand here looking like an unwashed wild woman all day,” I huffed.
Ashton let out a serious guffaw. “Ah … my dove, you do give me such pleasure. But you are right.”
“I am? You think I’m a fright?”
Ashton walked toward me and kissed my forehead, still laughing. “No. You are stunning, but we have an appointment so you need to get ready.” He tapped the tip of my nose with an index finger. “Now, go take a bath, my dove. We must not be late.”
“Where are we going?”
“We are getting married.”
I grinned, spun around on my heel, and skipped into Ashton’s bedroom.
“Ah … how I love you,” he called out.
“I love you,” I said, peeking around the doorjamb at him before I retreated.
When I emerged from Ashton’s bedroom I was concerned. “You told me to bring casual clothes so I don’t have anything dressy to get married in.”
“Do not fret, my dove. You look beautiful. I promise you shall have the fairy tale wedding later. But today is ours, and ours alone
.”
“I’m not worried about a fairy tale wedding. I’m worried because I’m wearing jeans to our wedding,” I explained, rather exasperated.
“So am I,” he said with a grin.
I watched out the window as we drove to a beautiful section of fancy homes. My stomach fluttered when the car stopped outside of a large Georgian style mansion. It was a stunning home with a bright red door, adorned with a large brass lion head for a doorknocker. It reminded me of something I’d seen once, in one of my father’s architectural books.
Ashton helped me out of the car and squeezed my fingers securely within his. We walked up the stairs, quickly. I felt his thumb drumming in rhythmic strokes on the top of my hand before he let it loose to push the doorbell. The bell gave a low base dong when it chimed.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“We are here to see an old friend of mine, who as our luck would have it is a judge. This is his home. He agreed to perform the ceremony of our union.”
I tucked myself into Ashton’s side.
“Everything will be fine, my dove. Do not worry.”
A rather rubenesque, pear-shaped woman wearing a domestic black and white uniform answered the door. Her mouse brown hair was pinned up in a ball on top of her head. Ashton greeted her, in French. She nodded and had us follow.
I gazed at the paintings on the walls of the long corridor as we walked. All portraits of people. Men in military uniforms, standing with smug poses. Women in long gowns. Children dressed in knee pants and suit coats. The pictures were old. I listened to the fall of our feet on the marble floor, making a cadence. Somewhere in the distance I heard birds, a lot of birds.
We passed a glass atrium, filled with exotic plants. The sounds of birds came from this space. They fluttered inside. I was captivated by the color of the beautiful animals, their naturally bright red, blue, and yellow standing out against the flora and fauna. Then they were gone. Only the haunting echoes of their song flowed down the corridor.
Ashton took my hand once more. We stopped our journey in the doorway to a large paneled room. It was filled with expensive antiques, a collection of birdcages, and sitting quite prominently in the middle of the room was a massive desk where a dark-haired man with a barrel chest sat, observing his realm.
“My very dearest of friends,” the man greeted. “Please, come in, Lord Archer.”
“Monsieur le president,” Ashton replied. “I am please to introduce you to my dove.” Ashton presented me. “This is Trinity Winslow. The woman I wish to marry.” He smiled then gazed down at me. “Trinity, this is one of my oldest and dearest friends, Thomas Benoit.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” I said.
“And I am extremely pleased to meet you, my dear. And let me say you are a vision. I can see why Archer fell so hard.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” I said. The man grinned, showing gapped teeth.
“Let me assure you. When I received a call from Archer saying he wished to marry, I was more than pleased. It is past time.” He laughed. I was surprised by the deep sound that came from his belly. “Well,” he said, “since I know Archer is in a hurry to make you his wife, I believe we should start the proceedings.” I looked up from beneath my lashes at Ashton, his expression happy as he met my gaze. “Archer, since you are considered a resident with dual citizenship in France and England, we can forego the waiting period, but I will need to see Trinity’s passport.”
I grabbed my purse, pulled out my passport, and handed it to Ashton who handed it over to the judge.
“I will draw up the proper affidavits to ensure the legality of the union, filling the certificat de coutume. Everything will be on record,” the judge said before placing his glasses on his sharp nose to look over the passport. He studied the document and glanced back up. “Come forward.”
Ashton and I walked to the front of the mahogany desk. The judge stood.
“The step which you are about to take is a union of two people founded upon mutual respect and affection. Your lives will change, your responsibilities will increase, but your joy will be multiplied if you are sincere and earnest with your pledge to one another.” The judged looked overtop his glasses at Ashton. “Lord Ashton Braeden Willmont Archer, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”
Ashton looked into my eyes, his eyes piercing silver-blue, his face radiant as he said quite assuredly, “I do.”
“And Trinity Lane Winslow, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, and forsaking all others, keep you only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“Bind your hands together and repeat after me,” the judge instructed. “I, Lord Ashton Braeden Willmont Archer, take you, Trinity Lane Winslow, to be my wedded wife.”
Ashton smiled in a way that eclipsed the sun as he gazed into my eyes. “I, Lord Ashton Braeden Willmont Archer, take you, Trinity Lane Winslow, to be my wedded wife.”
The judge continued, “To have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”
“To have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward,” Ashton repeated.
“Now, Trinity,” said the judge, “repeat after me. I, Trinity Lane Winslow, take you, Ashton Braeden Willmont Archer, to be my wedded husband.”
“I…” My voice quivered. I cleared my throat. “I, Trinity Lane Winslow, take you, Ashton Braeden Willmont Archer, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”
The judge chuckled. “Well, Archer, it seems she knows the vows.”
“Yes,” Ashton said.
The judge asked, “Do you have a ring?”
Ashton removed the Archer family crest ring he always wore from his pinky finger. “This will have to do for now, my dove.”
“Place the ring on the bride’s finger and say, ‘with this ring I thee wed.’”
Ashton slid the ring onto my finger. It dangled. “With this ring I thee wed.”
“Trinity, do you have a ring for the groom?”
I must have looked puzzled for a moment then thought of something. I took off my ring of Venus that Jacqueline, the madam of the chateau I’d been staying at, had given me as a birthday gift.
“Place the ring onto the groom’s finger and say, ‘with this ring I thee wed.’”
I slipped my small ring onto the tip of Ashton’s finger. It made it to just above his first knuckle. “With this ring I thee wed.”
The judge looked overtop his glasses, giving us his gap-toothed grin. “Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity and fidelity to one another. In as much as Lord Archer and Trinity Winslow have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this authority and have pledged their vows to each other, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Archer, you may kiss your bride.”
Ashton pulled me into his arms where he kissed me in earnest. The judge harrumphed.
“My Lady Archer,” Ashton said as he pulled back from my well-kissed lips, “I love you.”
“I love you,” I said.
The judge handed my passport back. “We need to sign a few documents,” he said. He gave me a pen. I stepped forward, signing on the mark the judge indicated before handing the pen to Ashton, where he signed. “I wish you all the best. And I am expecting an invitation to the big event when you get around to planning it.”
“You shall receive one, my friend,” Ashton said.
And that was it. I was whisked out of the house and into the car where I snuggled upon Ashton’s arm.
“Are we going back to your apartment?”
“No, this is our honeymoon,” he said.
“Where
are we going?”
“It would not be a surprise if I told you, Lady Archer.”
I giggled. “I really am Lady Archer, aren’t I?”
Ashton brushed his hand down my cheek. “Yes, you are.”
Chapter Two
I stood inside the most beautiful hotel suite, not to mention the only hotel suite I’d ever been in. The Bernstein Suite in the Hotel de Crillon. I twirled around, gazing at the room in disbelief. The living room colored in burgundy, gold, and rich woods displayed parquet flooring, a fireplace, fine artwork, a baby grand piano as well as marble topped tables. I traced my hand over the cold marble then found my way to the master bedroom.
Behind the bed was a wall of burgundy and gold fabric attached to an overhead canopy. The other walls were white inlayed wood, detailed with extravagant moldings. The furniture was elegant, the ceiling coved and rounded. There were large French doors leading out onto a balcony with a view of the Eiffel Tower.
“Ashton, I have never seen anything like this,” I uttered.
“Are you pleased with the suite?”
“Ashton, I-I. Yes.”
“And are you happy, my dove?”
“Yes. I’ve never been so happy.”
“Good,” Ashton replied. “Your happiness allows me great joy.”
“Ashton, you have to see this view,” I said as I opened the doors to the balcony. Ashton joined me. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin upon the top of my head. “Isn’t this the most amazing view? And look, Ashton. Look at the tower.” I pointed.
“It is beautiful, my dove. But I must assure you it pales in comparison to how utterly amazing I feel with you as my wife, and finally in my arms.”
“You always say such things to me.”
“Yes. And I shall always continue to say them.”
“Ashton?”
“What, my dove?”
“I’m starving.”
Ashton’s low laugh vibrated through me. “Then we shall eat,” he said. “Do you wish to stay in or go out?”
“Can we stay in?”
“Is this your wish, Lady Archer?”
“Yes.”
The Good Sister: Part Two Page 1
