His gesture was all that needed to be said from my new husband to me, his new wife.
And for long moments as we gazed at each other, his handsome lips to the beautiful rings he’d bestowed on me, that was all that was said.
Eventually, Noc pressed our hands to his chest and in the most profound moment of my life (and I’ll note all the others on that list carried memories of him too), he declared, “We are so gonna piss everyone off that we eloped on a parallel universe and we didn’t invite anyone from this world or the other.”
I felt my face form a scowl at his mentioning a discussion we’d already had.
One which we ended in whole-hearted agreement (of a sort, Noc was much the champion of being married, doing it in my homeland, something that he knew meant much to me, and it being rather private—he was not quite the champion of going it totally alone, but he’d given in…for me).
“This is not their moment, Noc.”
“Not sure Sue’s gonna see it that way,” he replied. “Or Dad. Or Dash. Or Aurora. Orly. Finnie. Frey’s gonna give me tons of shit. And I don’t even wanna think how Jo is gonna react.”
“She’s dealing with her own emotion concerning that odious Glover,” I snapped and Noc’s brows rose.
“Odious? How’s Glover odious, sugarlips? It was Jo who dumped him.”
It was indeed.
She’d explained this days prior to our being spirited away for our holiday, stating, “I tried, Frannie. I really tried to see it in him. But watching you and Noc, he didn’t have it. So in the end, he just didn’t do it for me.”
She was falling into our new-world language, then again she would as we’d been in that new world now for many months.
She was also quite right about taking her leave of Glover.
If he didn’t do it for her, it was time to scrape him off.
“It isn’t easy dumping someone, Noc,” I shared. “She feels awful.”
“She should. He was totally gone for her. And he was a good guy.”
“Not good enough, this, I will note, I always knew.”
Noc shook his head but did it grinning.
He was still grinning when he declared, “We need to have another ceremony when we get to Rimée Keep.”
“Whyever would we do that?”
He didn’t answer, he kept on his bent.
“And we need to have another one when we get home.”
“The deed is already done,” I pointed out.
“Right, you tell Sue she can’t wear a crazy hat to some shindig,” he returned. “And by the way, being married here is not legal at home and we get a tax break for being married.”
“We’ll have a ceremony at home,” I stated instantly.
Another grin from Noc as he muttered, “That’s my Frannie. If she can keep her money so she can spend it on herself or anyone else she wants to lavish shit on, she’s gonna do it.”
“I do not mind your government knowing we’re eternally joined. As you say, if I felt it prudent to part with the money it would cost, when we returned home, I’d hire an operator of an airplane to write it in the sky.”
That did not get me a grin.
That earned me Noc dropping his mouth to mine and giving me a deep, wet, heated kiss.
When he lifted it and our eyes opened, he whispered, “Franka Hawthorne.”
That name.
Such beauty.
“That’s me,” I whispered back.
His face started to grow soft when, suddenly, we both stiffened.
This was because the room was tinted green.
Noc lifted up alertly to an outstretched arm, causing me to press my lips together to stifle the pleasured moan for we were still joined and his movements were far from unpleasant, doing this growling, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
I pushed up to my elbows and turned my eyes to where my senses were guiding me.
And there, on the table by the window of the lovely inn in which we were staying, was an elegant tea service set out, its porcelain painted in a stunning motif of emerald green.
From the spout, wafts of smoke drifted from the heated brew inside.
Along with a glitter that was unmistakable.
I felt a slow smile form on my lips as the green tint of the room faded.
“Fuck, is she here?” Noc bit off.
“She’s not here,” I answered him and his eyes came to me. “But she knows we’re wed and has left us a present.”
“A present?”
I put a hand to his warm, wide chest. “Are you fatigued, my love?”
“Are you crazy, gorgeous?” he returned but didn’t wish an answer. He kept talking. “It’s my wedding night and I’m feelin’ the need to beat my record.”
My brows drew together. “Your record?”
“Ten times, babe,” he stated, causing a rather delicious tingle at the memory. “Tonight, I’m gonna go for fifteen.”
My attention drifted to the tea.
He would best that.
Oh yes he would.
Splendidly.
And I would best my record of three.
Oh yes, I most definitely would.
And I’d do this splendidly.
It was time for some tea.
* * * * *
“So this is a bridesmaid dress,” I murmured, staring down at myself.
I was of a mixed opinion.
The design was very fine.
The color—a pale pink—did not a thing for me.
Cora, wearing her own dress, the same exact one for reasons I couldn’t fathom, came to me.
“It is,” she confirmed.
“It’s the same as yours,” I told her something she already knew.