Taking his time, he made sure I enjoyed myself every bit as much as he did.
It would be friends with at least some kisses, then. There was no way I would be able to wait months for another one of those.
For a while, we quietly held hands. Words weren’t necessary. Not yet.
We drank each other in. Every so often, one of us would squeeze the hand of the other to reassure ourselves that this was real.
Once the nervous worry left, replaced by the joy that we were both alive and together, we smiled at each other.
And we started talking. We never stopped—not from that day to this. Even now I sometimes stop in the middle of a regular conversation, smile and whisper in Michael’s ear, “I’m always happiest when I’m with you, the love of my life.”
He gives me that slow grin, wraps his fingers around mine, and whispers back, “It’s in the simple, everyday moments that I fall deeper in love with you, darling.”
Chapter 20
One Year Later
I stood on a balcony overlooking the grounds and smoothed a hand over my blue silk dress, something Michael had picked out for me. I hardly knew one good dressmaker from another.
He walked toward me, dressed to the nines himself . . . or should I say tens? I smiled at my thought. Over the course of this year, he’d become my anchor—someone who had my back, during the good and bad. My family.
I met Michael in the middle of the balcony. He was more handsome than ever. I looped my arm through his. I’d have to stick close to his side tonight.
“Darling. You look amazing,” he said as he slipped an arm around my waist and looked deep into my eyes.
“Thank you.” After a year of his daily compliments, I’d finally learned what to do with them. “You look very elegant yourself, my love.”
“For you, darling. Always for you.” Michael kissed the tip of my nose. “It’s been a year. And, ahem, I think we have plans to make.”
“Hey, you can’t blame me. It was your plans for this house that held everything up.”
“I know.” He hung his head for a second before tightening the hand on the small of my back and dancing us in a small circle. “But it’s done now. So, plans.”
“After the ball.”
His low chuckle rumbled through my stomach as I leaned against him. He did not give up. “There’s always an after with you. I have something else in mind. How about we turn this housewarming ball into an engagement party?”
How many times had we said we were just going to elope and get married? But finishing this house—our house—seemed an important step in our relationship. It was a stable place to live, something I’d never had before.
Now it was finished. And here we stood in our finery, ready to celebrate that fact. Why not make the party something even more special?
I gave Michael a big grin. “Do you have my ring?”
“Do I—what kind of proposal do you think this is?” His blue eyes danced.
“Michael! Show me.”
“Not yet. Formal proposal will be at dinner.”
I patted him down, searching for the ring, but he raised a hand, shaking his finger at me. “No peeking.”
Before I could protest, Sean stepped out onto the porch dressed in the first tux he’d ever worn. “Hey, lovebirds, the guests have started to arrive.”
I waved him over. “You clean up nice.”
“Of course, I do.” He pulled on his lapels. “And so do you.”
I took Michael’s arm with my right and Sean’s with my left. Together we set off. My love, my brother, and I—off on an adventure. I imagined the coming years would be full of those.
With a broad smile, I glanced from one to the other and pulled them closer. “Life is good, guys. Life is good.”
About the Author
Alicia Donovan is an emerging author of romantic suspense and mystery thrillers. She lives in Ohio with her loving family and big imagination. Alicia happily scribbles as fast as she can to get her stories on paper and to her readers. She appreciates each and every one.
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Preview of Cinderella Lane
"Do you see a purse? Some kind of ID?"
"No, nothing. Wait. There's something here. It's way under there."
"Be careful there's a lot of—."
Something falling, like a million trickling marbles. No, not marbles…
"Don't worry, I have gloves."
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I got it."
Scraping. The tingling of… glass. Yes, that was it—not marbles. Glass.
Rummaging. A snap.
"I've got her driver's license. Cindy. Cindy Ellerd. See if she responds to that."
"Ms. Ellerd? Cindy? Cindy, are you with us?" A man's voice with a slight southern accent.
Cool fingers touched the side of her neck. They stayed there for a couple minutes and left.
"Cindy?"
Were they talking to her? A flare of pain ran through her shoulder, causing her fingers to jerk. She moaned.
"Cindy?"
She grimaced and moved her hand as if to push the name away, but something wasn't working right. Her hand didn't move, at least not the way it should.
"Help is on the way, Cindy. Hang on. Just hang on." A woman's voice, soft and reassuring.
Hang on? Something in her chest tightened. Why did she need to hang on? Dizzy and nauseous, her mind swirled around and around. It landed on dying. Was she dying?
She opened her mouth to speak, to whisper, to scream. Anything. But there was nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to hear. No sounds except the wind, and their voices falsely reassuring her. And the glass, an unending stream of falling glass.
She weakly pushed her foot against the soft floor. Was it a floor? She pushed harder. It gave way.
Pain, sharp and deep, sliced through her belly. A scream welled up. The cry so shrill her ears rang.
Someone scrambled closer. Hard hands pushed her down. "No! No! Don't move! Just stay—"
Blessed darkness raced to envelop her.
The Secret of Langley Manor Page 7
