Page 75 of Crown Me, Baby

At the end of the hall, framed by all the other tastefully hung pieces, is a portrait of Maximus and Water grazing in the pasture. “But how…” The words barely pass through Bella’s lips. “When?”

“You can do a lot with cameras these days.”

She laughs, looking at me with shining eyes. “So what happens to it now?”

“Well…” I elongate the word to add suspense. “First, it stays in this gallery for a few weeks. Then it goes on tour for a couple of months. Then it comes and lives at our house with us, unless we decide to loan it out.”

“Really?” she practically screams, covering her mouth before realizing we’re the only ones here. I nod, and she practically bowls me over in delight.

In the next hall, the hall of photography, it takes her a little longer to find the painting of us riding on a trail. She doesn’t recognize us at first, and when she does, her eyes widen. This one takes a little more explaining.

“Do you remember the photographer who came out to take our picture forThe Texas Horseman?” The media had gotten quite the kick out of the Solvarian prince-turned-rancher, who found his very own princess in America.

Bella visibly relaxes. “Oh, good.”

I hide a smile. It’s a concern of hers that one day she’ll see someone hiding in the bushes to take her picture. She’s finally starting to loosen up about it, so now is not the time to rib her.

I barely get her out of the photography wing in one piece. I’ve already let her talk me into buying three or four unsold pieces in each hall. When she goes into the sculpture wing, there is only one on display. Hers.

A marble masterpiece of Maximus in full rear while Water gallops beside him sits in the middle of the room with a spotlight trained on it. The marble is perfect, without striation or flaw. Bella falls silent and travels slowly around it.

Her breath is short, and I can see her lip quivering. The only thing that’s more beautiful than the statue is the woman circling it.

“Thank you,” she whispers as I come up behind her and place an arm around her shoulders. I draw her up against me, and she melts into my body in a way that fulfills me.

At our mountain retreat overlooking the sea, she stands on the balcony, smelling the salt in the wind.

“You know, I just had this thought cross my mind. That I’m right where I want to be.” She leans her head back on my shoulder again, this time running her slim fingers up my legs to her hips.

“It’s where I want to be forever. With you. My beautiful wife,” I whisper in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses along the back of her neck. Slowly unbuttoning her blouse, I run my fingertips across her criminally soft chest as she catches her breath.

“Why don’t we adjourn to the boudoir?” I tease, and she giggles.

“No. Out here is perfect.”

She turns and hops up onto the balcony railing, threading her legs around my waist and pulling me close. Brazenly, she slips her blouse off over her head and lets it fly off in the breeze, then unsnaps her lacy bra and allows it to follow.

My heart jumps into my throat as I approach, tracing my mouth from her throat to her collarbone and down her sternum. As I gaze at my wife’s perfect form, I reflect that I am the luckiest man alive.

40

ISABELLA

Idon’t know if I can make it through this dinner. Sitting beside Alex and across from Lily in our home, I feel the urge to pass out or retch every few minutes.

“Could you pass the salt please?” I muster the strength to say.

My stomach churns, and Lily eyes me meaningfully across the dining room table.

“You’ve hardly touched your food,” she says. “I thought this was your favorite. Maybe a little wine would settle your stomach.”

She holds the bottle to my glass, but I take it from the table.

“I don’t think that works, Lily. Really, I’m fine. It’ll pass.”

Lily’s stare grows more intense. “You’re sure? Maybe you should rest.”

Yes, I’m sure. It’s not going to pass.

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