by S. E. Hall
Gerard lets out a mournful sigh that causes my heart to ache, dropping his head. “I’d be glad to, but—”
“But I’ll not have it,” Poppy says with all the force she has left. “I’ve lived, loved, and seen everything here. Now I’m ready to see my maker, and my husband. I’ve missed him so. I’ve no plans to fight a battle I don’t wish to win. So sit with me and tell me of your plans—all the happy things I’ll indeed watch from afar.”
I blindly seek the one hand Kingston releases from his grandmother’s, and don’t let go all day as we sit with Poppy and talk about anything and everything we can think of. Even when the staff brings lunch and tea, I manage with one hand, refusing to let go of his.
And as dusk falls, I excuse myself to the ladies’ room…and don’t return. Call it intuition, or an awareness based on how much slower Poppy’s responses are coming—her whispers are becoming hoarser, her breathing shallower—but I know the time is near.
I go to my room and call home, getting my mother. I explain to her what’s happening, and her tears join mine.
And then I do something that confirms, indefinitely, how much I’ve changed. Not only do I not ask to speak to my father, but I don’t ask anything at all.
“Mom, I’m staying here…as long as I’m needed. I won’t leave him.”
“Of course, honey. I’d expect nothing else. I love you, Echo, and I’m so proud of you. I always have been.
“You know,” she continues, laughing quietly, “sometimes I felt like I wasn’t mothering you enough over the years. But just when the guilt kicked in, the feeling disappeared—because I’d remember you’ve never needed much mothering. You’ve always been wise beyond your years, confident, and strong in your silence. You love Kingston, and that makes him a very lucky man. Because my daughter would never love lightly.”
I try not to sob. “Thank you, Mom, for trusting me. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Be strong for him, Echo, and let us know if either of you need anything.”
“I will. Love you,” I say again before hanging up.
I stand, then sit, and repeat the motions, stuck between my need to be there for Kingston and his need for private family time.
“Miss Echo?”
My head pops up, and I notice Barclay in the doorway.
“Your presence is requested downstairs.”
I jump up and run past him, unable to get there fast enough. If he wants me there, I want nothing more.
I already know it’s over when I enter. Kingston’s face is down in the covers, and his shaking shoulders tell me he’s crying. Gerard seems numb as he stares at nothing, his mouth a tight, blanched line and his face ghostly pale.
The latter senses me and looks my way, nudging his head toward Kingston, and I nod. Obviously taking comfort in the fact that I’m now here, he leaves the room.
I walk over and lay my hand on Kingston’s back, rubbing past the trembles. He reaches over his shoulder and covers my hand with his own, and soon, he seems to calm a bit.
“She’s gone,” he croaks, the despair in his voice crippling.
“In body, but not in spirit. She’s still with us. Search hard, Babe, and you’ll feel her.”
He lifts his head and turns to me, a sheen of resolve in his puffy eyes.
“You’re right, Love. She’s watching, and she rather liked the Babe.” He smiles. It’s a heroic attempt at playful, but understandably weighted with sadness. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. This is where I belong.”
~~~~~
The next several days are somber as we help plan and attend the funeral of Poppy, Kingston’s beloved grandmother. I may have only known her briefly, but her words let me see right into her soul…and she touched mine, forever.
Kingston is quiet, hiding his sorrow as best he can through the service and endless visitors. He never lets me leave his side—as if I would—and readily introduces me as his girlfriend to all.
When we finally lie down in bed on Wednesday night, three days after her burial— my head on his chest, his lips on my hair—he speaks softly in the dark.
“Love, would you be terribly disappointed if we postponed that tour inside Abbey Road I promised you?”
I lift my head promptly. “What even made you think of that? Of course not. I understand, and it should be the least of your concerns.”
I kiss his lips gently, then lay my head back down. “Babe, no worrying about me. Just you—anything you need. Anything to ease your pain. That’s all that matters.”
“I knew having your love would be smashing. Turns out, it’s beyond the best of my imaginings,” he says. “I adore you, Echo. You’ve been so good to me through all this. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I roll into him more and kiss gently across his chest, tracing his abdomen with my fingertips. “You chased, you caught.” I snicker. “You’re stuck with me now, Babe.”
“Did I mention how fond I am of ‘Babe’?”
“I could tell.” While stroking his chest, I make a confession of my own. “Have I ever mentioned how fond I am of ‘Love’?”
“You didn’t have to—your big blue eyes always tell me the truth. Told me the first time I said it.”
There’s a long silence, and a peace between us that we both relax into naturally.
And then, out of nowhere, he absolutely shocks me.
“I spoke to your father today…received his approval.” He lifts his head to stare down at me. “Echo, I want to take you to Scotland—to my grandmother’s estate.”
Seems my dad’s sympathetic leeway hasn’t run out yet. Or…maybe he actually meant what he said, and does truly understand how I feel about Kingston.
“Are you sure?” I prop my head up. “It’s not too soon?”
“On the contrary, I can’t get you there soon enough. You know I spent my summers there?”
“Yes.”
“It’s my favorite place in the world.” His expression softens. “I want very much to share it with you. And I’m hoping…you’ll love it as much as I do.”
“I’m sure I will,” I answer with no doubt. “And yes, if it’s important to you, I’ll go. Just say when.”
“Tomorrow,” he answers, adamantly.
“Tomorrow it is then.”
I giggle when he rears up and flips me onto my back, covering my body with his own.
“Need you,” he groans into my neck where his mouth has landed, caressing its length with his plump lips and skillful tongue.
I gasp for air, spreading my legs to give him room to truly lie upon every part of me. “Then take me.”
He makes love to me with consuming passion, leaving no spot un-worshipped and paying relentless attention to every inch of me as though I’m his obsession. He stimulates me easily and everywhere, with his mouth, hands, fingers, and finally, his steel-hard dick.
I gyrate and writhe beneath him. Then, at his physical command, I’m on top of him, his eyes fixating on my bouncing breasts. He palms them greedily, a feral growl rumbling in his chest until he sits up, taking one in his mouth.
“Kingston…” I release a powerful whimper and toss my head back, feeling my mind go fuzzy with ecstasy.
“Let go, Love. Show me how good I make you feel,” he rumbles, thrusting up into me with savage force.
My guttural moan fills the room, as loud as his sexy grunts. The tingling sensation I now recognize moves through me until I’m calling out his name over and over again, before finally collapsing onto his chest.
He strokes my hair and back, using a sated but decadent voice to convey how much he loves me, my body, and our sex with a mix of sweet and filthy words. Too soon, he takes care in rolling my lax body off him to go clean up.
That’s almost the last thing I remember before falling asleep. But I still hear his “Sleep well, my love,” even in half consciousness, and smile.
Chapter 21
Bright and early the next mo
rning, Kingston’s running around and packing our bags like a wild man, then dragging me from the bed. I’d be tempted to fight for more sleep, or ask where the fire is, but it’s the most cheerful I’ve seen him in days. So I go along with it, a sleepy smile on my face.
Gerard’s waiting at the front door to see us off, assuring us that he’ll be fine and insisting we have a good time. He gives us each a hug, but mine lasts longer, allowing him time to whisper in my ear, “Welcome to the family, Echo. I couldn’t have chosen you better myself, or be more delighted. Take care of each other.”
I kiss his cheek. “Promise. And thank you, for everything.”
Kingston guides me into the awaiting car and wastes no time joining me, directing the driver to the airport.
“We’re flying?” I ask in surprise.
“Yes. It’s just over an hour that way, as opposed to another seven-hour drive. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope.” I settle into his side. “Not at all.”
~~~~~
The private flight is short, and before I know it, we’ve landed.
Another car is, of course, waiting to whisk us off to the countryside estate. Our bags are miraculously loaded before we are, and when we climb in the backseat of this car, Kingston immediately raises the partition and pulls me onto his lap.
“Are you excited?” he asks, brushing the hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear.
“Yes,” I answer with honest enthusiasm, but a sliver of guilt lingers. Being happy to visit the home of the so-recently deceased feels a bit wrong.
“Don’t.” He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. “She told me to bring you here…see if you liked it. No silly guilt, Love. It was her wish, and is also mine, to share this with you.”
“I’m so glad I had a chance to meet her. And I want to see your home-away-from-home more than anything.”
I give him a small smile, then turn toward the window to take in the beauty we pass. The farther into the country we travel, the more tranquil I feel. There are lush, green, rolling hills, and seemingly endless trees of every size and color. Everything seems to have been painted from my mind’s eye.
And then we stop. As we wait for two huge iron gates to open, the breath leaves my body in a whoosh, and I can’t help but air my awe.
“Was your grandma a princess?”
Kingston chuckles. “My grandfather was of very distant royal lineage, yes, but nothing fancy.”
Nothing fancy? I’m staring at a real-life castle! The lawns go on forever, the circle driveway has a huge marble fountain in the middle, and there’s a cobblestone path leading down to a large pond—complete with an arched bridge and swans a-swimming!
“Back at school, you told those girls you weren’t royalty.” My wide-eyed stare lands on his easy grin. “You lied? And I bet you have met the Queen!”
“I’m not royalty. The only grandfather I knew—who was, again, very far down in the line—was my grandmother’s second marriage, but her one true love. And I’ve never met the Queen.” He opens the door and climbs out, extending a hand to me. “Now, shall we go inside?”
“I guess.” I climb out, completely astounded. “But don’t leave me, or I’ll get lost.”
He laughs. “No worries. I’ve only plans to stay very close to you.”
The large, ornate doors are opened as we approach. An older woman steps out to greet us, lunging at Kingston for a long hug that she cries her way through.
“Echo, this is Rowena,” he introduces me after breaking her hold politely. “She’s been with my grandmother for as long as I can remember.
“But now, Rowena, it’s time for you to reward yourself with a much-deserved vacation,” he continues, turning back to face her completely. “Everything’s arranged, and the car will wait for you to pack.”
“Sir?” she questions him. “But who will—”
“I insist.” He smiles at her warmly. “Please—it’s what Grandmother would have wanted. You took such good care of her, and me…it’d mean a great deal if you let me return the favor.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She turns, her steps to go pack quick.
“All to ourselves,” he purrs in my ear.
~~~~~
For the next week or more, I honestly lose track of time…blissfully so. Kingston and I live in a world of our own, walking the grounds hand in hand, sharing candlelit dinners that we cook together on the deck, and floating on the pond in a boat rowed by his strong, muscular arms.
And making love in the enormous bed in his room. And on the rug in front of his en-suite fireplace. And several times in the hot tub.
One glorious morning, as we eat breakfast out on the veranda in only our robes, he suddenly drops his silverware and pushes back his chair.
“Come here.”
No longer even a little shy with him, I scurry over to sit on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.
“You seem quite taken with this place,” he says.
“How could I not be? I want to stay here, like this, just us…forever.”
“Is that right?” His timbre drops, as does his head, and he kisses my neck while opening my robe. “I’m pleased to hear that. We’d have it all to ourselves, so we could do whatever we wished, wherever we wished.”
My head lulls back as he takes my now-bared breast in his mouth, sliding two fingers through my wetness and then inside me.
“Always so hot and snug for me,” he groans.
I hear the telltale crinkle of a foil wrapper and lean back, watching as he tears at the condom package he had hidden somewhere. I open his robe for him, licking my lips at the glorious view of his body.
“You do it.”
He hands me the condom, his eyes alight with desire. I roll it carefully onto his rock hardness.
“Take me inside you, Love. Slide down on me, nice and slow. I want to feel every inch stretch you while you look at me.”
Long gone is the girl who would’ve hesitated. I crave Kingston on every level, but very near the top of the list is physically.
So I obey easily, moving over him and gradually lowering myself onto his thickness, holding his hungry gaze with my own.
“My beautiful girl,” he husks, gripping my hips to force me to go slower than he knows I want to. My hands move to my chest to massage my own breasts, and he hums his approval.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Echo. I love you like this—riding my cock. So free…taking what you want.”
“Kingston,” I breathe out, his words working me up, my need to go faster unbearable. “More, please.”
“Is this what you need?”
He clamps down on my thighs, holding me there, and thrusts up so far he hits a spot inside me like never before.
“Ah, you like that.”
He does it again and I clench around him, a new commotion rushing through me.
“Hold on,” he warns.
I grab his shoulders, clinging to his sturdy form as he crashes into me, hard and deep, so fast and aggressive a trickle of sweat slides down his temple. “Fuck, Echo, Love.”
His groans are delirious and stammered. Our bellows ring out together, and I all but black out from pleasure as he throbs inside me, taking me over an edge I didn’t know existed.
My head falls to his shoulder. Our bare chests are slick and pressed together, our heartbeats one erratic rhythm.
Long moments later, he kisses my ear and says the last thing I was expecting to hear.
“Stay with me, here—always. This is all mine now. I want you to live here and, one day, marry me. I want to wake every day to your sweet smile.”
“W-what?” I jerk my head up, half expecting to find an expression on his face that tells me he’s joking.
“You heard me—and yes, I’m quite serious.” He cups my cheeks gently. “This could be our home, Echo. She left it to me, and made it very clear whom she thought should be my lady of the manor—which I would’ve told her, had she not.
“I know we’re young, and I’ll agree to a long engagement if you need that,” he continues. He’s totally serious. “It might take a while for me to earn your father’s blessing, which I won’t do without, but you’re able to decide to live with me now.”
I jump off his lap, clutching my robe closed.
“Kingston, we only just got together. I think your endorphins might be clouding your judgment. I’m only eighteen.”
“I’m aware,” he says calmly, pulling his own robe closed. “Let me ask you, are you absolutely sure you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you as sure I love you?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly.
He grins. “Were you sure of both of those things before the sex and endorphins?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “But—”
“I’m not finished. Can you imagine yourself living here, happily?”
I look around. All I see is freedom—lazy days of bliss, surrounded by beauty and the man I know I’ll love forever.
“Yes,” I finally whisper.
“Then let’s start there, living together.” He questions me with his eyes and infamous arched brows. “Which, may I remind you, we’ve already done—for months. That’s the equivalent of years of dating.” He winks.
He might be a tad off on his math, but it’s a valid point nonetheless. Could we really do this? What about my family, college, and future career? How would I handle the dialect barrier, not to mention the surely drawn-out process of moving abroad?
It’s all so overwhelming…but equally enticing.
“I’m going to get dressed and take a walk,” is my reply. “Alone.”
“As you wish,” he says with a smile.
I start to walk away quickly, before I can find myself jumping into his arms and agreeing with no real consideration.
Once dressed, I use a side exit to set out and explore not the grounds, but my thoughts.
My mind’s scattered and nonsensical. The moment I convince myself this is crazy and I’m too young, I find myself then considering how every fairytale consists of heroines even younger than me. As soon as I’m adamant that first, young love almost never works out, my head drifts to all the best, timeless stories…where it does.
