A good portion of his assets had been liquidated in order to create this home for his bride. Some would say that it was a foolish move, but some would never understand how it had felt for him to spend a year living under the roof her father had given her. They would never know how it felt to wonder if your wife would find out that you'd been blackmailed into marrying her. She'd have a right to kick him out of her life then. But, if he built a home to put her in, something that belonged to them both, then they'd both have a right to stay and fight for their marriage. And if she still wanted him to leave, then it wouldn't be so bad, because he'd be leaving her in possession of every spare cent he'd had when they first married. She deserved no less. But, if she stayed with him… Orion was nowhere near being as wealthy as her parents, but he was young, and he was bent on offering her a life that was better than anything they could give her.
"Ri, this is beautiful," Amy called as she looked up the long flight of stairs, and around at the two scarlet arms flanking the hill on which the house rested. What he thought she would miss in the dark, she didn't. "You designed this?" she frowned at him. "Everything reminds me of somewhere we've been. How long have you been building this house?" she queried, her voice tremulous.
Orion offered her his arm, and together they started climbing the steps. "We broke ground on it the morning of our wedding."
"Is this where you were?" She remembered clearly that no one had seen him that day until it was just time for him to stand at the altar.
"And it's where I've been every night since," he confessed. "I had it all planned tonight. We'd have dinner, maybe dance a little. I'd tell you everything," but he knew he would never be able to tell her everything, "about the house and why I was acting the way I was." He couldn't tell her about his bargain with her father, so he told her everything else. About how he'd been working long days at the office, and even longer nights at the estate. How he'd planted the garden, and nurtured it with only one goal in mind. And he told her how their anniversary was his deadline. After a romantic dinner, he would have invited her on a drive, and brought her here. He'd planned to take her up to their bedroom and spend the rest of the night proving how much he loved her. Then, he'd wake her up wearing nothing but a blush and the dawn on her skin and they'd make love again. And by the time full morning came, the sun would have moved past the windows of their bedroom. He would close the shades, and climb back into their bed and sleep in with her in his arms.
They took a straight path from the door to their bedroom. Amy was more interested in completing the night the way Orion had fantasized it would end than she was in seeing the Italian kitchen, or the unfurnished rooms of the house. Orion locked the chauffeur out. Now that he had her where he wanted her, he was not going to give Amy a way of escape. Tonight, he would make her his completely.
In the doorway of the bedroom, Amy came to a sudden halt and gasped. "Is that our bed?"
Orion peered over her head to make sure the movers had gotten it right. If things had gone according to his plans, they would have collected the bed and brought it here while he and Amy had gone for a cruise around the city. The new housekeeper would have come and made up the bed, fluffed the pillows, stocked the bathroom, and stuffed the refrigerator; then left. If things had gone his way, for the next week, neither he nor Amy would have anything but the clothes on their backs to wear.
Thankfully, things hadn't gone his way. If his hands stroking idly over her hips weren't deceiving him, the only thing Amy would have to wear once he shredded that dress was a pair of stockings that he intended to destroy in the same manner. And his body.
"Yes," he said, seeing that the bed was made. "That's our bed. I had it moved here."
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "You were that confident I'd come with you?"
He looked down into her eyes, inordinately pleased that she had forgotten to be shy about her face. His Amy. His green-eyed, flame haired Amy was the most beautiful woman in the world. "You didn't have a choice, sweetheart."
Chapter 12
Three nights later, Orion was lounging on the sofa with his wife in his arms when a frantic pounding on the front door interrupted their liaison. Only a few select members of his staff knew where he was, and they understood that he did not want to be disturbed.
He continued to pluck idly at his wife's nipple, not even bothering to open his eyes until she shifted on his lap.
"You should probably answer that."
His lips curled as he pulled his hand from the opening and applied himself to removing his shirt from her body. "The house runs on solar energy, and we've got enough supplies to last us a month. I don't care who's at the door. The only person I want to see for the next week is you."
She threw her head back, giving him access to her breasts. The knocking persisted. "It doesn't sound like they're going away. Mmm. Right there." Her hands guided his mouth where she wanted it.
"If they're smart," he murmured against her silky skin, "they'd have brought supplies to lay siege, cause I'm not opening that door."
"What are you going to do, if your not going to open that door?" she purred, her hands roving over his back and torso.
Orion answered with a low, hungry growl as he lifted her hips higher. His lips part-
Bam!
Bam!
"What have you done to my daughter, you bastard?"
"If I answered that question, one of us just might have to kill the other." Slowly, giving his wife a warning glance not to move, he separated his body from hers. A quick scan of the floor revealed that his shirt had sailed clear across the room.
"Where is she?" Richard Brackenridge demanded.
Mouth a grim slash, Orion walked across the room to pick up his shirt. "You'd better be careful of what you say," he warned coldly.
"I should have known you didn't deserve her! I should have known! I thought you were better than this, but you're just like your father!" the older man spat. "All you care about is money. I should have known you wouldn't recognize the best thing you would ever have. What have you done with her, eh? Where'd you stash my daughter?"
Orion dropped the shirt over the back of the chair and onto Amy's lap. Like a coiled serpent, he waited for his father-in-law to finish his tirade. Just as the older man asked his final demand, Amy surprised them both by popping her head around her husband's hip and shoving him aside.
"I'm right here, Daddy. What are you doing here? Why are you yelling at my husband?"
"Princess," Richard said on a sudden, deflated breath. "I've been trying to call you for days now. I thoug-" As if he was looking at Orion for the first time since entering the room, he realized the man was completely naked.
"You better not finish that thought. I was about to make love to my wife before you broke into my house."
Richard paled at the violent fury on Orion's face, but then his features hardened into a fury of his own. "What was I to think with you being gone all hours of the night?"
Orion looked down at his wife's wide-eyed expression. "You told your father about us?"
"Me?" Amy cried. "I talk to my father about everything else but you. How could you accuse me of something like that?"
"I'm not," Orion soothed, cradling her head against his waist. The sight must have been too much for the old man because Richard turned away quickly. "I'm just asking, because if you didn't tell him anything about us, then Richard must have set investigators on me."
"You knew damned well I had set investigators on you. You dodged them often enough," Richard snapped from behind shaded eyes.
"Obviously I didn't do a good enough job, otherwise you wouldn't have found out about this place." Orion's eyes narrowed. "How did you get into my house?"
"I bribed the housekeeper. How else?" This time, he chanced to roll his eyes in his son-in-law's direction. "Are you all good? Are we done here?" His hands waved to encompass the situation his untimely arrival had created.
"Yes," Orion gritted.
&
nbsp; "No!" Amy snapped.
Her husband looked down and almost groaned aloud at the scowl on her face.
"What did you mean when you accused Orion of being like his father, Daddy?" she asked with deceptive calm.
"He thought I married you for your money," Orion inserted.
"I didn't ask you. Daddy?"
Richard appealed to his daughter's husband for help, but none was coming from that quarter. Orion was standing there stoically, waiting for him to confess that he'd blackmailed his son-in-law into marrying the girl whose self-esteem he'd ruined. But obviously Orion had done something to fix that self-esteem because Amy was sitting there like a well-tousled wife and she wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup. She was glaring at him fiercely, not caring that lines were marring that smooth as porcelain face she'd been presenting to the world ever since she was nine. Better yet, his little girl was facing him head on, not in that model's pose that had been featured on the covers of magazines all around the world, but head on in the way of a woman comfortable in her own beauty. Somehow, in the space of a few days, Orion had convinced his wife that she was the stunner that the world saw and her parents had known she was all along. He would be a cruel father to do or say anything to take that away from her.
"Do you love him, princess?" he asked instead.
Amy looked confused by his question. "Of course, Daddy. You know that."
He nodded soberly. "I know it." Then his eyes lifted to the closed features of Orion. "Do you know she's always loved you, Ashley?"
Orion could barely ease out his breath to answer. Hoarsely, he replied, "I know it."
"And do you love my daughter?"
"With everything I am," escaped him as a rushed exhalation of confession.
"Then you understand that everything I did was to give my daughter everything she's ever wanted?"
For the first time in long moments, Orion relaxed his stance. He snorted softly. "Maybe you've spoiled her a little."
Richard grinned unapologetically. "You've got a husband to spoil you now, princess. Are you happy?"
Orion glanced down at his wife to see her expression as she answered her father. Amy met his gaze, breaking it only to run a slow, appreciative glance over his body. Orion wondered what her father would have thought if Amy hadn't mastered the art of hiding her emotions.
"Yes, Daddy," she said, her voice growing husky. "He's spoiling me rotten."
Without breaking eye contact with his wife, Orion said, "Get out of our house right now, Brackenridge. Lock the door behind you, and forget you ever knew this address. I've got to get back to the business of loving my wife."
Annoyed with the rude dismissal, Richard turned to glare at Orion and immediately regretted it. He wasn't certain that his daughter had forgotten about him, but there was far too much evidence that his son-in-law had only one thing on his mind. With his hands covering his eyes, he left the house, locked the door, and dropped the key through the mail slot.
"Amy do you know when someone has a heart attack, a piece of their heart dies?" Orion asked out of the blue. "When I thought I was losing you, a piece of my heart died." Measuring his breaths to calm his racing pulse in the aftermath of their love, Orion held his wife close and kissed the top of her head where she'd collapsed onto his chest. He felt her grip on him tighten, and the shudder that coursed through her body at his confession. "I exist because you've chosen to spend your life with me. My sole purpose is to love you."
Chapter 13
Love Story No. 3
By: Cassidy Sherriff
Ever since we broke the story of the house that Texas millionaire Orion Ashley built as an anniversary present for his wife Amaryllis Stewart-Brackenridge Ashley, helicopters have been spotted hovering on the outskirts of the twelve acre property. Apparently Mr. Ashley bought the airspace over their home.
You'd have to fly mighty high to catch a glimpse of the house, but it's worth seeing the heart-shaped bulls-eye from twenty thousand feet up. An anonymous tipper told us that Mr. Ashley insisted on planting every rosebush in the famous hillside garden himself. If that isn't testament to the man's love then nothing is.
Meanwhile, for those of us who can't afford to board a flight to Oklahoma just so we can see this giant declaration of love, representatives of the couple have contacted this columnist with news of something to look forward to. The Ashleys have agreed to permit flyovers twice a year: on their anniversary; and on Valentine's Day.
Hint, hint, future lover of mine. There's nothing more romantic than a proposal over the Hanging Gardens of Texas.
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About the author:
Josephine Kent is single and a bit cynical, but, she's an ever hopeful, romantic. Having yet to meet Sir Lasting means that he could be anyone. He could be the neighbor's son who drops by his elderly father a few times a month. Or he could be a childhood friend now grown up. More likely he's one of the three gorgeous luxury yacht captains who rescued her and her 'borrowed' boat from drifting all the way to Cuba. Less likely, but certainly possible, he's that prosecuting attorn… Definitely unlikely. The cop who came and evacuated her stranded self from a wildfire? Nah. The widower who needed a stylist for his slightly pubescent nine year old daughter. At one point, she'd thought he was that tall, athletic stud at the grocery store who Josie climbed over bales of oranges and potatoes to discover wore basketball shorts, a sweet pair of tennis shoes, a stylish set of chrome and neon limbs, and the widest wedding ring she'd ever seen on a man or woman. He could be anyone. And while Josie's not necessarily hunting for Mr. Lifetime Worthy, she knows that the world is full of awesome guys, and is enjoying the view as she wonders just what he might really be like; and what type of woman could really love him.
The current loves of her life are water sports, writing, and six rentable kids called nephews. In her dreams she is a great mathematician, a budgeting diva, a do-it-yourself maven, and a bohemian fashionista. In reality, she's numerically dyslexic. She always ends up spending the money saved from budgeting. Her do-it-yourself fails are often epic. And she still hasn't mastered the art of mixing prints.
If you'd like to contact her, please do so at
[email protected]. She'd love to hear from you. Also, if it doesn't take up too much of your time, a review on this work would be very much appreciated.
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