One Dark Wish, page 42
“According to Carina Prioleau, yes.”
She kissed his nose. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. Although I think we’re good for at least sixty years.” He stood both of them up. “Before we commence with more kissing, I want you to see what we found when we realized this tomb was the compass rose.”
After he brushed away wildflowers, she saw a rough inscription carved around the base. The stone had sunk into the ground, but the rain had washed away the mucky buildup around the sides. He took a small penlight out of his pocket and handed it to her.
As she walked around the perimeter, she read the verse aloud: “For she had eyes and chose me.”
A tear escaped. “Rebecca and Thomas never had their happy ending. They didn’t live the life of happiness and love for which they were destined.”
Nate’s hands were now on her shoulders, his lips in her hair. “They did live, sweetheart. To love with all your heart is to live fully, no matter how short the time.”
“They married, but they couldn’t escape their tragic fate.”
Nate gently turned her around. “Their fate isn’t our fate. We’ve been given the chance they never were, and I intend to take it.” After another hard kiss, he knelt down and took a diamond solitaire out of the pocket of his jeans. He slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “I can’t promise I’ll be a perfect husband. But I can promise, for the time we have together, a life filled with love. A life fully lived. Without fear or regrets. Sarah, will you marry me?”
Happiness filled her with light until she felt weightless. “Yes, Nate. I’ll marry you.”
Epilogue
Sarah took the champagne glass from Nate and brushed her veil away from her face. It’d been a beautiful ceremony in St. Mary of Sorrows. Now they were in the garden of Calum’s cottage on the Isle of Hope. The courtyard and parterre garden with symmetrical fountains had been decorated with white roses, gardenias, and green ferns. White fairy lights were strung throughout the trees. The colonial-era mansion behind them had been lit with candles and gardenias.
Her father had given her away, and Nate had waited for her at the altar.
“Are you thinking about our honeymoon?” Nate ran his hand up and down her spine. Nate, like the rest of the men, wore a black tuxedo. Calum had insisted. “Because I am.”
She hid her nervous smile behind her champagne glass. They hadn’t been together since he’d come home a few days ago. They’d been too busy moving him into her house, helping her father settle, and getting the wedding together. “Will you be okay living with me and my dad in my mother’s house?”
“You mean will I mind leaving the gym to live with the woman I love and the father-in-law who thinks I’m not a pussy?”
She hit him on the arm. Of course, he barely noticed.
He laughed and kissed her neck. “I’ll manage.”
Female laughter came from the dance floor, and she smiled. The other women here included Miss Nell, Samantha, Carina, and Cain’s wife Charlotte, who’d just arrived from North Carolina.
Now Pete and Samantha, who’d been Sarah’s maid of honor, as well as Cain and Charlotte were dancing to a local Cajun band. Vane, Ty, and Luke were eating at a nearby table. Miss Nell had cornered Alex, while Pops and Grady stood with Garza, Jimmy, and her father at the bar. Calum and Carina appeared to be arguing, and Zack had walked away to look at his phone. Sarah had no idea where Kells had gone.
Samantha walked over with an envelope. “This is from Calum, but he’s too shy to give it to you.”
Sarah pulled out a piece of paper and said, “We can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Samantha said.
Nate took the document. “Calum is sending us to Charleston. He’s reserved the honeymoon suite at the Mills House. With Ivers providing transportation.”
Samantha waved a hand and walked toward Pete. “Enjoy it.”
A moment later, Charlotte appeared in a pink silk slip dress that skimmed her petite figure. She’d intertwined pink rosebuds into her white-blond curls. “The wedding was beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Sarah brushed away a stray hair that had come lose from her French braid. A comb adorned with fresh gardenias fastened her veil in place. “I’m grateful to Samantha and Calum. They did most of the wedding planning work, and the flowers came from Juliet’s Lily.”
“I love that place. Cain and I are looking at an apartment near that store.” Charlotte took Sarah’s hands. “I just wanted to say that your dress is beautiful.”
Nate kissed her head. “Yes, it is.”
“Thank you.” Sarah smoothed down the skirt of the white silk organza dress she’d worn to the auction. “I thought it’d been ruined, but Miss Nell sent it to a dressmaker in Charleston who was able to repair it. She even fixed the embroidered strawberries.”
Sarah had also tucked Nate’s handkerchief between her breasts because she wanted it close to her heart.
“Are those crystals in the strawberries?”
Sarah whispered, “Swarovski.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened, and then she smiled. “Did you know that Othello gave Desdemona a handkerchief embroidered with strawberries? Apparently, they’re a powerful symbol of love and fidelity.”
“I’d no idea.” Sarah looked up at Nate, who smiled down at her. “But I’m not surprised.”
Zack came over, with Cain close behind. Cain took his wife’s hands, and handed Nate an envelope. “Kells returned to the gym, but he wanted me to give you this.”
Nate took out a letter. “Kells gave me two weeks’ leave. And left Cain in charge as temporary XO.”
“What?” Cain grabbed the letter and frowned. “When you’re not around, that’s Zack’s job.”
Zack clapped Cain on the shoulder. “I’m going to Charleston for a few days.”
“Just remember, brother,” Nate said to Cain, “you’re in charge.”
Charlotte kissed her husband on the cheek. “Isn’t that what I always say?”
Laughter sparkled, and once Cain and Charlotte went back to the dance floor, Zack shook Nate’s hand. “Before you leave, I want to thank you for reminding me to believe in second chances.”
The men went in for a hug and once they separated, Zack kissed Sarah on the cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“No more sorries,” she said. “We all had reasons not to trust each other, but once we took that risk, we proved that we can beat Remiel. We proved that regardless of our mistakes, we’re stronger when we work together.”
Zack swallowed and said to Nate, “You’re a lucky man, brother.”
“I know.” Nate held Sarah by the waist and pulled her closer. “Lucky and grateful.”
When Zack walked away, she stood on her toes and kissed her husband. Surrounded by him, their friends, and a garden filled with laughter and music, she’d finally started her own family.
* * *
Minutes later, Nate found himself alone on the dance floor with his new bride. Music floated around them, and she rested her head against his chest. They danced slowly, her veil keeping them in their own private world, his hands on her lower back holding her close.
She’d looked so beautiful walking down the aisle to meet him that all of his words had dried up. He’d barely been able to say his vows, and Calum—who’d been his best man and had helped Nate finance the ring—had elbowed him to speak. He was hot, hard, and desperate to be alone with his wife. She’d wanted to wait until after the wedding to be together, and now that they’d said their vows, being with her was all he could think about.
“Can we leave?” Nate whispered in her ear.
“We leave when Ivers says.”
“I can drive,” he said while kissing her neck. “I haven’t had a seizure since coming home.”
She drew away slightly, a blush staining her face. “We can’t leave until we cut the cake. Or serve the strawberry pie.”
Nate stopped the dance, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. Hard, demanding, unrelenting. Like that night in the police station. Like that night in the apartment. Like that night in the bathtub. “Sarah.”
Laughing, she somehow got out of his embrace and dragged him away from the dance floor, toward the cake table, surrounded by all of his friends. Surrounded by his brothers.
As he cut the cake, his hand over hers, he whispered, “I will always love you, Sarah.”
She looked at him, the white veil partially hiding her face, and he saw tears in her eyes. “Promise me neither one of us will ever be lost again.”
“I promise, my love.” He placed a small bit of cake in her mouth, then kissed the frosting off her lips. “Your wish is my only command.”
His brothers cheered, champagne glasses clinked, and he knew deep in his heart that they would never be lost again. Because when you’re loved, you’re found.
Order Sharon Wray’s next book
in the Deadly Force series
In Search of Truth
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Prologue
“When was the last time you saw a man bow?” Allison Chastain Fenwick led Zack Tremaine onto the courtyard of Le Petit Theatre.
Nestled in the French Quarter of New Orleans, the humid, flower-filled courtyard provided a reprieve from the freezing-cold theater. A jasmine-tinged breeze and white lights wrapped around the trees enhanced the romantic summer night.
“No idea.” Zack took two flutes from a waiter’s tray and handed her one.
The champagne tickled her nose. As the courtyard filled with intermission-freed guests, Zack found a clear spot near the raised fountain. “Why?”
“When I was leaving the ladies’ room”—she sat on the fountain’s edge and her gown pooled on the bricks below—“I bumped into someone. I apologized, but he just wrapped his arm around his waist and bowed. By time I blinked, he’d disappeared.”
“Maybe it’s a Charleston thing. It’s certainly not a New Orleans thing.”
She coughed on her champagne. “It’s not a Charleston thing. It’s a weird thing. So it has to be from New Orleans, which you’d know about since you’re a native Cajun.”
Zack threw her a fake-offended look. “Says the woman whose Charlestonian last names are so old she has to use both of them?”
She laughed and punched his shoulder. The U.S. Army had turned him into a wall of muscle, so her fist probably hurt far more than his shoulder.
He smiled, took her hand, and kissed her palm.
“Maybe it’s a formal thing,” she said as a peace offering. “He was wearing a tux.” At this last word, she raised her eyebrow at him. While she’d chosen a long blue satin gown in honor of Hamlet’s opening night, Zack rarely wore anything other than jeans and T-shirts. So she should be happy with his pressed gray trousers, white button-down shirt, and striped tie. Although his clothes did seem at odds with his almost-shaved black hair.
When he pulled at his collar and scanned the room, she hid her smile behind another sip of champagne. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was armed.
Glasses broke behind her, and she glanced toward the noise. People were clearing away from a corner. As they drifted from the mess, she saw a solitary man in the corner. He stood near a potted palm with his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled, ill-fitting blue suit. The kind of suit someone borrowed or rented, not owned.
The other odd thing? He was staring directly at Zack.
Zack tapped her bare shoulder and held up his glass. “Since we haven’t seen each other since graduation, we have some toasts to make. First, to me.”
She laughed out loud. “To you?”
He nodded. “Yes. Congratulations to me on completing the Special Forces Assessment and Selection Course. I’ll be a Green Beret before too much longer.”
“Oh my gosh!” She gave him a hug made awkward by the necessity not to spill their champagne. After they’d graduated from Tulane, Zack, who’d been an Army ROTC cadet, left to become a Special Forces officer. When she pulled away, she raised her glass. “May you win every battle and always return to us safe and sound.”
“Us?” Zack’s brown eyes shuttered and the lines around his mouth seemed deeper than before. “Of course—Stuart.”
“Stuart will be happy for you. He’s your best friend, besides me.” She fluttered her eyelashes until Zack smiled again. “Stuart is sorry he couldn’t make the play. He’ll meet us for dinner later.”
Zack raised his glass again. “Here’s to you crushing your cultural anthropology PhD program.”
They clinked glasses, and Allison ignored Zack’s quiet laughter. She knew what Zack and Stuart believed: the only job a cultural anthropology PhD could get was as a barista.
“Despite what you think”—Allison tried to kick him with her high-heeled sandal until he moved—“I’ll get a job that doesn’t require asking people if they want whipped cream on top.”
Now Zack laughed so loudly other people glanced their way.
“My turn.” Allison lifted her glass and, with her other hand, touched the sapphire-and-diamond engagement brooch attached to her neckline. “To your best friend and my future husband, Stuart. He was just elected Tulane alumni president for our class year. I’m certain he’ll become a bank president before he’s twenty-five.”
Zack nodded, although the shadows in his eyes reappeared. “I have no doubt.”
They clinked glasses for the third time, and Allison felt a rare tremble of happiness. She’d always felt so alone, but tonight she felt safe. She was engaged to Stuart, and Zack had come home to visit. For the first time in years, she felt like nothing bad could ever happen to her again.
The audience began to file back into the theater, leaving them alone. Neither one of them wanted to return to the play.
“I’m sorry I missed your engagement party.” Zack gave his glass to the last waiter standing. “I was training.”
“I understand.” She cleared her throat and handed her glass away as well. She’d drunk almost all of it and her head felt fuzzy. “I sent you photos.”
“I got them.” Zack crossed his arms and his gaze settled on the brooch nestled between her breasts. “Allison, are you sure marrying Stuart is the right thing to do?”
She sat upright. “Why would you ask that?”
“I know you. And I love you.” The courtyard lights reflected the truth in Zack’s eyes. They sat so close, his breath caressed her forehead and his insanely sexy bay rum cologne filled her lungs.
“Stuart loves me.”
Zack pushed a stray curl behind her ear. She shivered at the touch of his fingers against her face. “You’re not in love with him the way a woman is supposed to love a husband.”
She gripped the edge of the pond, feeling the stone beneath her fingers. Her breath snagged, making it hard to breathe without hyperventilating. He’d always discerned all of her insecurities and vulnerabilities. Here, alone in the courtyard, she suddenly felt defenseless. “Zack—”
“I’m begging you to rethink this marriage. Stuart may be able to give you the security you think you need, but it’ll never be enough—not for either of you.”
“What are you saying?” Her voice cracked along the edges. “Stuart will break my heart?”
“No,” Zack whispered. “You’ll break all of our hearts.”
She blinked as he lowered his head. When his lips touched hers, her first thought was that they were so much softer—and gentler—than they appeared. He held her head at the perfect angle so he could deepen the kiss. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d rarely held her hand or touched her hair. But now that his lips were pressed against hers, she wondered why not.
Horrified at her reaction, Allison pulled back and pressed her fingers against her tingling mouth. That’s when she noticed two things: the ill-suited man moving closer and the bowing man in the shadows.
Something glinted in the bowing man’s hand. A small sword?
She stood quickly, her heart racing. “Zack?”
Zack twisted just as the ill-suited man pulled something out of his jacket.
Zack grabbed her by the waist, and they hit the ground. Her hands took the brunt of her fall, scraping on the bricks. The pain made her dizzy but not enough to ignore the action she saw from beneath Zack’s larger body. The bowing man moved behind the ill-suited man and slid his thin sword into the man’s neck, and the ill-suited man silently slumped to the ground.
Her cries sounded like raspy gasps, and she barely heard Zack’s order. “Stay down!”
Suddenly, with Zack still on one knee holding his handgun, the bowing man pressed his sword point against Zack’s heart. The man had short brown hair and dark skin. He didn’t need his height, width, or sword to carry his meaning; the confidence and determination in his green eyes would have been enough. “Hold your peace. Do not fear. Tonight’s violence has been met and meted.”
Zack put his gun on the ground and rose slowly, both hands held up in surrender.
The bowing man retracted his sword, which became a thin, ten-inch-long wand of steel. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and said in a distinct Australian accent, “I venture here tonight to bring a message and a warning.”
Allison took Zack’s hand and he helped her up, making sure she stayed behind him. He didn’t speak, so she didn’t either—not that she could cobble together any words. All she could do was stare at the dead man and keep the nausea at bay. With no visible blood, he seemed to be asleep.
