Nature Of Desire: Mirror Of The Soul Page 32

  She tightened her hand in his hair, tugged. Catching her forearms, his smile became something else. “Marry me, angel. That’s all I’ll ever need. Your promise in front of God and everyone to be mine forever.”

  “And if I’m a terrible wife?”

  “I won’t complain a bit. After all, I did beg for the privilege.”

  She swept her lashes down, casting a glance at him from beneath them in a way that made him want to fuck her all over again, this time with passion and laughter in the mix.

  “You know a Mistress can’t resist a man who begs.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “In sickness and in health…”

  Marguerite wondered if brides and grooms ever listened to their ceremony while it was happening. That magical moment of joining when the words held so much power. A power to last a lifetime, if the heart was open to claim their truth forever.

  She understood now why knights did an overnight vigil on a stone chapel floor before taking an oath of fealty. She had, in a way. She’d sat in the little chapel on Tyler’s property through the long hours of the night before their wedding, thinking over what those words meant, realizing how holy and sacred they were. Tyler had kept watch with her. He rarely let her out of his sight and she accepted that. In the quiet way she walked in his soul and he walked in hers now, knowing one another without words, she had understood that he had needed the time. After the honeymoon she would firmly insist on going back to work, but she’d given him the month before their wedding. They’d both needed it.

  “Honor and obey…” She met his gaze as she said the words they’d specifically instructed left in the vows. Watched Tyler’s eyes turn to burnished gold at the complex meaning of the phrase between them.

  “Honor and cherish…” His voice was strong and tender both. Strong enough to be heard by all, tender for what could not help but be in his voice when he looked at her, bringing Chloe to sniffles just behind her. And he would cherish her. He already did. She felt it like a photo she’d once seen in a magazine of an Afghan hound, abandoned and left in a shed for forty days without food, the only water coming in from rain through a leaky roof. The dull coat, protruding bone, the nearly fatal dehydration, had shown a body close to death. But the eyes had lived. Tyler had told her that was what had frightened him so badly, to see that light almost gone from her eyes, rousing his fury and love to screaming pitch. Now she was feeling like that dog, the picture taken six months later. The shadows of fear and the nightmares were part of her forever, but she chose to brave standing out in the light of his love and dared them to follow, for he would protect her from all the fears that mattered.

  Love nourished her, not just returning her to health but bringing her to a place she’d never been before. It shone in her eyes for everyone to see. She’d asked Chloe and Gen to serve as her maids of honor. Komal and Mr. Reynolds sat in the first row where her parents would have been. She’d wanted to honor the spirits of her parents, who they had been to her before tragedy had destroyed their family.

  David would have walked her down the aisle, so bestowing that honor had been easy.

  * * * * *

  When she’d stepped out the back door of the Gulf house with Chloe and Gen, Brendan had waited for her.

  Resplendent in black tie, his dark hair a silken fall to his shoulders, he had a sprig of lavender carefully pinned in his lapel that picked up the beautiful color of Gen’s and Chloe’s elegant sheath dresses.

  He put his hand over his heart. “Ladies, I’m overwhelmed.”

  “I was about to say the same,” Chloe responded, eyes merry. “Marguerite can walk herself down the lawn in that dress. It’s my knees that are weak.”

  “Ignore her,” Gen informed Brendan. “We all do.”

  He smiled, but turned his eyes to Marguerite, covered all of her, and apparently heedless of what her two friends would think, he went to one knee, bowed his head.

  She cupped his jaw and he turned his head, kissed her hand, placed his over it so he held on to it when he rose, stepping close enough so they would not hear how he chose to address her. “You honor me, Mistress.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” she replied softly, squeezing his hand. He gave her another lingering look then stepped back, withdrew an envelope from his jacket, offered it to her. “Tyler asked if you would read this before you came down to him.”

  He moved away, taking a step toward Chloe and Gen to give her privacy as she opened it. Marguerite noted that he put a hand beneath Chloe’s elbow, proving he’d noticed as she had that Chloe was trying to shift all her weight onto one foot to relieve the ache in the still healing leg. She’d refused to use crutches or even the cane she’d brought and Gen had done a credible job of covering the lingering remnants of the bruises on her face. Tyler had paid for the cosmetic surgery that gave her back her two front teeth when insurance wouldn’t and Chloe had regaled him with several renditions of the popular Christmas carol in joyous gratitude. Smiling a little, Marguerite opened the folded letter.

  Dearest Marguerite:

  You’ve taught me a great deal about stillness. About the many things that can drift into your mind and heart when you shut down the barricades created by noise. Unexpected gifts of insight, revelation and wisdom.

  I wanted to teach you about love. Thinking it would be an easy lesson, because you already know the basics. You’re right, it’s a miracle. There are those who desperately seek it like a drug, an answer to problems, an aching need they cannot describe. But you taught me that love is found in stillness. It is the space between objects. It’s the star you can’t see if you look directly at it in the night sky, but if you look away, look forward, you see it in your peripheral vision, beside you, watching over you. If you lie down on the earth it’s there, beneath you, cradling you.

  You learned to create a stillness, a peace within yourself, doing it with a very select filter. Together we found that love heals, it laughs, it cries, it feels. It is where truth begins and ends. It cannot be described or contained and it changes every moment. It has more faces and forms than we can count. Let me in, Marguerite. For once and for all, remove any and all filters between us. Let me in to share it with you, experience it with you. In this lifetime and however many after we’re granted.

  God is beyond our description, so we describe our ways of worshipping God instead. So it is with my love for you. I think of you sipping from a teacup, your pale blue eyes changing their expression every moment. I think of your tears on my neck, your trembling body in my arms. I think of you teaching me about tea, the importance of the rituals. Of you teaching a teenager how to be a woman. I think of your fury, like a storm goddess, taking you over the edge of that building, your hands reaching for that child as though she represented all that must be saved from the heartless evil in men’s hearts. You’re my angel, my tormentor, my woman, my love. I no longer draw breath without a part of you in the act. As I have said before, I will always be there for you, but now I want to take a chance and beg you to love me back, beautiful Mistress. To always be there for me as well. For I know you can take care of my heart like no other.

  Your Master and slave both.

  Tyler

  She folded it back up, held it against her heart, her eyes closed, head bowed over it. Then a small smile crossed her face and she turned, looking toward Brendan.

  “I’m ready.”

  She took his arm, felt the grip of his hand stay sure and steady over hers as he escorted her through the gardens, Gen and Chloe just ahead of them.

  As they stepped into the arbor that would take them out of the garden, she could see down the slight incline to the wide expanse of lawn. Two hundred people in a wide crescent of white wooden folding chairs were arranged before a platform with a trellis. Their altar, all of it decorated with flowers and framed by the spreading branches of the two live oaks. Her gaze sought the figure of her groom, but a movement to her left caught her attention.

  There were two people waiting for
her at this exit from the gardens and Brendan had turned her to be sure she saw them.

  Natalie carried a basket of flower petals. She was dressed in lavender silk and gauze, a lovely wide-brimmed hat on her small head. Shyly, she stood before her mother, who was dressed in pale green with tasteful amethyst jewelry, both of them looking like the promise of spring.

  Natalie looked up at Marguerite, her brown eyes round. “You’re so beautiful, Miss M. Mister Tyler said you needed a flower girl.”

  He had given her perfection. Every gift she could ever want that was within a man’s power to give. Marguerite turned away, her hand going to her mouth as she saw Natalie’s mother step out from behind the child. Brendan touched her bare nape. “Mistress?”

  Just a murmured word and she nodded, acknowledging him, but the sobs had started and she couldn’t stop them, not even in respect of the painstaking time that Gen had put into her makeup. Fortunately it had been lightly applied since Gen had pronounced, “Good Lord, you have eyelashes as thick and pretty as a baby’s.”

  She felt other hands then. Raising her head, she saw Tina touching her shoulder and Natalie now in front of her, holding on to a small handful of her dress. Chloe and Gen stood back a respectful step but their eyes were already brimming.

  “God, where’s the photographer?” Chloe muttered, looking around, but Gen stayed her with a hand.

  “Some moments you don’t forget,” she murmured.

  “Oh, Marguerite.” Tina wrapped her arms around her and Marguerite slipped her arms around her in return, feeling this new joy in reaching out. Touching, caring, letting pain go in the form of tears to wash it away and bring happiness, contentment. Natalie’s little arms wrapped around her legs and she reached down with her other arm, held her close. Cupping that precious head, the little skull she covered as they hit the side of the building.

  “Please don’t cry on this wonderful day. I can’t bear knowing I gave you one moment of guilt or unhappiness. I was so awful to you, so awful.” Tina raised her face and made a noise of protest as Marguerite shook her head, still unable to talk through her tears. “No, don’t you dare deny it. I help run a domestic abuse shelter, for God’s sake… And yet, when I saw her there that day, I couldn’t stop myself from blaming you and I knew—knew—what it is to run from someone. The damage they can wreak when all you’re trying to do is care for those around you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just…thank you. You’ve made this day so much more wonderful and I didn’t think it could get any more wonderful.” Marguerite at last let her go and turned to find Brendan there with a handkerchief, which he carefully applied to her eyes for her, being her mirror. With a smile, he even dabbed at her running nose.

  “You’re very handsome,” Natalie stated, studying him. “Miss M, you should marry both Mr. Tyler and him.”

  Brendan chuckled and pocketed his handkerchief as Marguerite found a smile for the child. She discovered it wasn’t so hard. In fact, it felt like the sun coming out after a cleansing rain. “But maybe he’s waiting for you to grow up so he can marry you.”

  “I don’t think so. He loves you.”

  There was an exaggerated bark of a cough from down below, wafting up from the trellis altar, a tone that sounded suspiciously like Josh, followed by a ripple of laughter from the audience.

  “I guess we better go.” Tina chuckled. She positioned Natalie ahead of Marguerite as Gen and Chloe took their rehearsed positions ahead of the little girl. “Now down you go, love. Just the way we practiced. Don’t start scattering the petals until you reach the first row of people. I’ll go sit in the audience.”

  Natalie nodded, gave Marguerite a small wave and started down the slope carefully in her shiny shoes, following the two women in lavender.

  Brendan picked up her hand, fitted it into the crook of his arm, looked down at her with quiet adoration in his gaze. “Are you ready now, Mistress?”

  Her hair had been dressed exquisitely by Gen, who revived her skills as a hairdresser from a previous life. It was piled high on her head with ringlets and a scattering of glittering pixie dust, an appropriate complement to the sleek evening gown of antique ivory she wore for the late afternoon wedding. She gave herself a once-over, took a breath.

  “You’ve nothing to worry about. You’re beautiful beyond words. If ever your husband forgets how lucky he is, Mistress, I trust you’ll use me as necessary to remind him.” Brendan gave her a wink, a wicked grin, making sure it was with laughter in her eyes that she came down the lawn to her waiting groom.

  * * * * *

  But she knew she was the lucky one. Lucky and blessed beyond anything she’d ever expected. It filled her heart, such that when she got to the altar, rather than reaching for Tyler’s hand right away, she stopped several paces away. When Tyler started forward, she gave a short shake of her head and he came to a halt, studying her.

  “What are you doing, angel?” he asked softly.

  Marguerite glanced toward Mac who was sitting in the second row, then met Tyler’s eyes. “Looking at who I really am. The mirror of my soul.”

  He swallowed, reached out and took her free hand, now outstretched. He drew her away from Brendan as the man let her go and discreetly withdrew.

  She pressed her cheek up to his. “Thank you for your letter.”

  “Thank you for inspiring it.” He held her close to him, prolonging the contact, a moment she wanted to last forever.

  * * * * *

  It was a day of memorable moments. When the minister pronounced them man and wife, Tyler raised his hands to her face, brought her onto her toes. He kissed her mouth, his arms sliding down and around her as he let go of his usual decorum before his friends and colleagues to simply crush her to him. She felt the hard promise of his body along the length of hers, hers to enjoy forever.

  One of the tremendous perks of this whole forever thing, she reflected, her mind spinning, body rousing to his.

  “Until death do us part,” she breathed.

  “No,” he said against her mouth. “Forever, angel. You’re who I want, forever.”

  * * * * *

  The reception went on far into the night. The lawn had been strung with fairy lights and Chinese lanterns. Guests danced on the platform deck built for the DJ while others sat at the wide variety of tables, benches, hammocks and chairs. Neither she nor Tyler had intended a large affair, but in the end, exuberance had taken them. Since the wedding was a mere handful of weeks after the events on the Bank of Florida building, the response to their invitations was amazing and humbling. Her skydiving friends, submissives from the Zone, customers from Tea Leaves and of course Komal. All the candles kept multiplying until Marguerite couldn’t imagine how she’d moved in darkness so long. She concluded that she must have had the eyes of her soul tightly closed, until Tyler forced them open with his Will and desire for her. Arrogant, wonderful man.

  He had a wealth of friends as well, good friends. Violet, Mac and Josh she knew and now she got to meet Josh’s wife, though she’d not had more than a moment to talk to the quietly confident Lauren. And of course Leila and a bevy of the women he’d shared time with at The Zone, making for an odd wedding guest list indeed. Their respective submissives hatched a playful conspiracy during the reception, joining forces to keep the bride and groom apart as each insisted on claiming a dance.

  It was magic, she thought. The night was pure magic. Gen had been right. While there was a photographer moving around, snapping pictures, it wasn’t necessary. She’d imprint every memory on her soul to view whenever she closed her eyes and remembered.

  Brendan came for her last, when she thought her feet must surely fall off. Blissfully he took her hand on a slow song. She’d long ago kicked off her low heels and moved to the soft grass, so he was careful of her bare feet as he drew her into his arms and began to move in a semi-waltz sway. Laying her head on his shoulder, she found to her surprise that he was taller than she was, something she hadn’t ever noticed before.


  “You’re tired, Mistress,” he observed. “And the collarbone is still bothering you. I saw you massaging it a little while ago.”

  “It’s a happy tired,” she assured him. “Don’t fuss. And Tyler’s keeping as close an eye on me as you are.” She smiled. “Marius wanted to grab my ass just to see if he would notice. As much of an urbanite as Marius is, I convinced him that out here in the backwoods, Tyler is more than willing to shoot people and feed them to the alligators.”

  Brendan laughed. “I’d beat him up for you, but we all know Marius would just take that as flirting.”

  Marguerite smiled again, but a more serious mood took her as she gazed at him. “Brendan, you asked me for something, that night at The Zone. Something I should have given you.”

  His gaze stilled on her face as he remembered, his body tensing beneath her hands. Marguerite stopped, looked toward her husband. Tyler stood talking to several of his male guests, but at her regard, he glanced toward her. She inclined her head, a warning of sorts, then turned her attention back to Brendan. She reached up, took hold of his head in both hands, brought him to her mouth. “You asked for a kiss.”

  Brendan had expected a tender press of lips. He was wrong. She opened her mouth to his, delved deep into him, pressing her body into his, letting him feel her fragility and strength together. Oddly, it brought the platonic memory of the teenager who curled around him, keeping his fears at bay. Just as it brought the memory of the woman who had given him emotional release through a storm of sexual sensation. Desire surged through him, tingling low in his back where her brand rested.

  When she pulled back, she did so only several inches, those blue eyes a handspan from his. “Thank you for being the first boy to love me, Brendan. For loving me, period. And for reminding me why it’s important to live.”

  “You could never have failed me in any way, Mistress,” he managed, his voice thick. “There’s nothing you owe me.”