I couldn’t believe that piece had come from my Robbie’s brain. He had real talent. We’d already had three offers to buy the piece, but no way in hell was I going to part with it. I told Robbie he could make a living as a sculptor, but he’d decided to get himself a building apprenticeship. “I want to help other families to build homes for themselves,” he said, as he struggled his way through filling out the paperwork. “I never had a home until I came to live at The Prim. I’d like to be able to help others to create their own space.”
I patted my smooth stomach as I took my place at the top of the stairs. Just this week, Robbie and I had decided to stop using birth control. Perhaps it wouldn’t be long now until we had a cub of our own. At first, the idea had been terrifying to me, but now I couldn’t wait to be a mother, and define my relationship to my son or daughter on my own terms.
But that was in the future. Now, all I had to do was walk down the aisle.
“Bianca,” Willow whispered in my ear. “This is your cue.”
Here we go.
The music swelled. I descended the stairs as slowly as I could manage, and glided into the ballroom. My eyes cast around the room, meeting the gaze of a hundred joyous faces, each one bringing a pang of recognition and love. How lucky was I to have this amazing family. There was Caleb, looking dapper in black tails, Rosa smiling from under his arm. There was Cole and Belinda, each with black raven feathers woven through their hair. My parents stood stiffly beside the bar, frowning at all the faux skeletons and fairy lights hanging from the priceless chandeliers.
Even Rolf stood alone in the corner, his handsome face daring a shy smile. He’d apologised to both Robbie and I for the way he acted, and even confessed he was a bit jealous of Robbie. Apparently, Rolf had been treated pretty badly by his parents, too, and as an only child, he always envied the way both Angus and Caleb stood up for him. I think Robbie’s head swelled to twice its normal size that day.
At the end of the ballroom, Robbie stood proud, looking as handsome as I’d ever seen him in his Maclean family kilt, with a new sporran to replace the one Hans had stolen at the last wedding. Behind him stood his mother, her face beaming with the same gorgeous smile I so loved in her son, my husband.
I don’t know how she was able to be here, but Irvine had left for Aberdeen three days ago and returned with her. Robbie was Irvine’s biggest fan after that.
I reached out to Robbie, and he took my hands in his. His eyes locked with mine, so full of love it made my chest tighten. Robbie’s whole face broke out into a wide grin, the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen in my life.
Robbie tore his gaze from mine, and nodded to Clara. She began the ceremony, much the same way as she had before. Only this time, the words soared through the ballroom, lifting everyone up with the force of our vision.
We’d written the ceremony ourselves, taking out all the stuff about honouring and obeying, and replacing it with words that had meaning to us – about the kind of marriage we wanted. About how we’d fight by each other’s side and give the other person the space they needed to conquer their own challenges.
How we would love, and be loved, and how it was this that set us free.
“We will now exchange rings,” Clara said.
I held the sword out to her, and she slotted our rings on the tip of the blade and offered them to us. As I slipped Robbie’s ring on his finger, the words flowed from my mouth, so simple, so perfect.
“With this ring, I bind my life to yours. Wear it, and know that I love you.”
Robbie’s eyes never left mine as he slid my own ring back on my finger. “With this ring, I bind my life to yours. Wear it, and know that I love you.”
“Always,” I whispered back.
Clara addressed the room. “Bianca and Robbie, you have reaffirmed your vows today. In front of your family and friends, you’ve declared your enduring love, and from your bond, created a new and thriving family. While it’s a little odd for me to be doing a vow renewal a mere three months after the wedding—”
At that, the guests all tittered.
Clara continued. “I believe strongly that when a couple goes through a bad experience together, and that experience helps them to grow stronger, then this should be celebrated. Marriage is a choice – it’s not a choice you make once, but one you make every single day. How wonderful it is to be chosen by someone you truly love, and to be able to love them in return. Bianca and Robbie, you’ve chosen each other today. Go now, with the love and support of your friends and family. You may seal your union with a kiss.”
Robbie’s grin lit up the whole room. He cupped my neck, bending toward me. His lips met mine, and the whole world exploded with pleasure.
I used to think marriage was for people who were weak, who were too afraid to make their own way in the world. But as Robbie’s tongue brushed mine, I realised I’d never felt stronger in my whole life.
With this man at my side, there’s nothing I cannot conquer.
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Want more from the world of Crookshollow
Love so fierce it transcends even death.
When Elinor Baxter arrives at the dilapidated Marshell House to settle the estate of her law firm's oldest client, she can't help but feel a little spooked. The creaking gothic mansion is a far cry from her life as an adventurous party girl back in London.
Then she meets Eric Marshell, a man dressed entirely in black with a wicked smile and the ability to float through walls. Eric was the violinist in popular rock band Ghost Symphony until a hit-and-run accident claimed his life. Now he's trapped inside his mother's house for all eternity, and the only one who can see or hear him is Elinor.
Eric and Elinor fight their attraction for each other as they dig into the mystery of Eric's death. But when they uncover a dark and sinister plot that threatens Elinor's life, their bond draws them into a world neither of them understands. Can their love transcend the boundary between life and death?
The Man in Black is a steamy gothic romance by USA Today bestselling author Steffanie Holmes, Set in the English village of Crookshollow, it's a standalone novel of love, redemption, and second chances. If you love clever BBW heroines, crumbling gothic mansions, and brooding rockstars who know what they want, then this book will have you shivering all over.
Elinor moved her hand, so her palm lay flat against mine. It was so odd to see her fingers nestled right inside my body, and even odder to feel them there, not as fingers usually feel, but as a hot ball of energy, emanating heat to a steady rhythm.
It took me a few moments to realise the rhythm was Elinor’s heartbeat.
I stepped forward, my hand shifting against hers, her fingers dancing inside mine. I pressed my other hand against her back, my palm sinking into her flesh. If I were alive at this moment, I would push Elinor against my body, and relish the warmth of her, the shape of her, against me. But I couldn’t do that, so instead I folded myself in closer to her. The front of my jacket brushed against her chest, sending waves of pulsing heat through my whole torso.
“This is amazing,” Elinor breathed, her bow-shaped lips parting slightly. I didn’t trust myself to reply, so I smiled back at her. I started to sway, pushing my right hip forward, moving the warmth through her leg. Elinor sensed the movement through her skin, and she moved backward, turning her body with me. I stepped again, and again we slid across the floor, our bodies sweeping and dipping with the music.
With my next step, I pushed myself closer, bowing my head slightly, so that my face hovered inches above hers. My eyes locked on those bow lips, ripe and delicious like the first berries of spring. God, I want this woman—
“I like the music,” Elinor said. Her voice wavered. She sounded nervous. I wondered if she was speaking because she sensed what I wanted to do, and she was trying to fill the space between us, to stop me from doing
something I couldn’t take back.
“Mmmm,” I shifted my fingers in her hand. The heat flickered, thrumming through my body with a quickened pace. She was nervous. Interesting.
“I love the … distortion. The way it crackles right through my whole body.” Elinor breathed. “It’s almost as if the music is mirroring the sensation when we touch.”
“This piece is originally written by the composer Niccolò Paganini, a Greek violinist in the early nineteenth century.” I murmured. If she wanted to talk, I could at least impress her. “He was known for making liberal use of the diabolus en musica, the devil’s tritone, which creates that haunting dissonance you hear in the piece. Of course, Paganini’s composition has been sped up and updated, and accompanied by the electric guitar, bass guitar, double bass, and drums, it’s quite the feat of modern gothic rock.”
“Who is playing the violin in this piece?” Elinor asked, her lips barely moving, struggling to form the words.
“I am, on Isolde. Ghost Symphony is my band.”
“Eric …” Elinor’s face turned up to me.
I leaned closer, I could practically taste the sweetness of those berry-red lips, feel the warmth of her mouth against mine. The air between us crackled with electricity. Elinor shifted her weight against mine, falling into me as she leaned forward, her lips pursed, waiting.
I brushed my lips against hers. It was like no other kiss I’d ever experienced before. The heat leapt through my body, twisting from my mouth right through my core. I felt as though I’d swallowed a hot coal, and though it burned me deeply, it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I leaned forward, my weightless body pressed against hers, my lips parting to devour her heat as our bodies hummed with pulsing energy.
READ NOW: The Man in Black
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About the Author
Steffanie Holmes is the author of steamy historical and paranormal romance. Her books feature clever, witty heroines, wild shifters, cunning witches and alpha males who always get what they want.
Before becoming a writer, Steffanie worked as an archaeologist and museum curator. She loves to explore historical settings and ancient conceptions of love and possession. From Dark Age Europe to crumbling gothic estates, Steffanie is fascinated with how love can blossom between the most unlikely characters.
Steffanie lives in New Zealand with her husband and a horde of cantankerous cats.
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Inking the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance (Wolves of Crookshollow Book 3) Page 27
