Page 29 of Absolution
I stroke her purple curl. “Today and every day for the rest of our lives.” I press a quick, fierce kiss to her parted lips. “I’ll meet you on the beach, little dove.”
I force myself to walk away from her before I lose my tenuous control. The craving to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the ceremony right now is nearly overwhelming.
I grit my teeth against the grating sound of her friends’ excited screeching behind me and remind myself that Abigail enjoys their company. They’re important to her, so from now on, they’re important to me.
Every aspect of this day will be absolutely perfect for Abigail, even if that means I have to be parted from her for a few hours.
The next time I see her, my bride will be walking toward me dressed in white, ready to pledge herself to me forever.
The private stretchof beach owned by Meadows’ family is serene and quiet—not a tourist in sight. My partner was all too happy to allow me use of their property for the weekend, even if he did seem a bit disappointed that he isn’t invited to my wedding.
But this moment is only for Abigail and me. We aren’t performing for the sake of others; they won’t take little pieces of our happiness for themselves.
By now, she’s had several hours to celebrate the day with her close friends. That will have to be enough, because I’m not capable of sharing more of her today.
The officiant waits with me, the surf lapping closer to his shoes with every passing minute as the tide comes in. I refuse to budge. Abigail will have her wedding by her beloved ocean, and I don’t care if the man gets wet. I paid him enough that he’s not complaining.
Or maybe it’s my warning glower that’s keeping his mouth shut. I’m not interested in idle small talk while I wait for my bride.
My genial mask has fallen away entirely, and I intend to be my true, ruthless, cruelly possessive self when we make our vows.
“If the storm draws much closer, we’ll have to move this inside,” the violinist dares to say, gesturing in the direction of Meadows’ grand beach house.
I look out at the dark clouds churning on the horizon and smile. Everything will be perfect for my Abigail.
“We’re getting married right here,” I announce. “Start playing.”
She should be arriving any minute now. I stare at the boardwalk, my intense anticipation for my bride setting my teeth on edge. It’s a discomfiting sensation, but thanks to Abigail, thefeelingis a revelation I’ve only known since meeting her. She’s my miracle, my everything.
The wind is just starting to pick up when she appears like an angel blessing me with her presence. She practically floats down the worn wooden steps of the boardwalk, and her bare feet sink into the soft sand as she slowly glides toward me.
The rose petals that I laid out as an aisle for her are whipped up by the oncoming storm, and they whirl around her. Ivory lace appears to have been painted onto her porcelain skin, perfectly fitted to her bodice. Her full white skirt swirls as though she’s dancing, and her gossamer veil seems to be lifted by an invisible, benevolent spirit behind her. Loose, sable curls float around her delicate face, my favorite purple one winking through the undulating locks.
She’s like an enchanted princess out of one of her favorite animated musicals.
Or maybe I’m the one who’s under a spell, because I can’t tear my eyes off her.
Then she’s in front of me, lifting her hands so that I can take them in mine. Her aquamarine eyes glimmer and glow like jewels, and her rosebud lips are petal pink. I can’t help brushing my thumb over them to test their soft texture. Then I trace the line of her fragile cheekbone, lingering on her unique freckle.
The violinist stops playing, and the officiant is speaking. I’m barely aware of a word he says; Abigail has harnessed my full attention. She’s the only person who matters, the only thing that exists in my world.
The wind starts to blow off the ocean with more force, and a light spray from the crashing waves mists around us. The moisture makes her cheeks glisten like a dew-kissed flower.
“Dane.” My name in her breathy voice goes straight to my head in a rush of power and desire. “I promise to be with you always.” I realize that she’s repeating the officiant’s words, saying the vows I chose for us. “I promise to honor and sustain you, and I will be true to you in all things forever.”
There will be no “until death do us part” in our ceremony. Nothing will take my Abigail from me. Nothing.
“Abigail.” I savor the shape of her name on my tongue. “I promise to cherish you always. I promise to protect, honor, and sustain you, and I will be true to you in all things forever.”
A single tear rolls down her cheek, brighter and more precious than the diamond collar around her throat.
“With this ring, I, Abigail Foster, take you, Dane Graham, to be no other than yourself. I will have faith in our bond, through all our years, and in all that life might bring us.”
The ring burns like a brand when it slides onto my finger, searing her claim into my flesh, into my soul. I’m hers, completely and irrevocably.
“With this ring, I, Dane Graham, take you, Abigail Foster, to be no other than yourself. I will have faith in your love for me, through all our years, and in all that life might bring us.”
She already wears the emerald engagement ring and the diamond collar, but now I adorn her slender finger with another mark of my ownership.
