His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (29 page)

She wanted that. Brynn wanted a marriage like her parents’d had. Even as her mother’s health deteriorated, her dad had been right there by her mom’s side, every single day. It wasn’t until after they’d found out the experimental treatments hadn’t worked that he’d fallen apart.

Brynn took a fortifying breath. “I promise I won’t run. But for tonight, I’m going to stay here. I’ll remind Tash that things need to change.”

Iain raised his brows.

“I’ll make sure she understands this time.”

“See that you do.” He kissed her hard, as if he were sealing the deal. When he raised his head, he looked into her eyes. “I’ve texted my driver—he should be here in a few. I’ll pick you up in the morning, eight thirty. We’ll get a license and get married. Totally Vegas. Just you and me.”

Both frightened and elated, Brynn nodded. “Okay.”

He kissed her one more time, then turned and left the kitchen. Brynn’s fingers drifted up to her lips. She was getting married.

* * *

After staying up past midnight listening to Tasha’s marital woes, Brynn spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what kind of wedding Iain would come up with. She hadn’t told Tash about their plans, but Brynn had made it perfectly clear that Tash couldn’t drop in unannounced anymore. Nor could she spend the night—unless she absolutely needed to. But Brynn tried her best to be firm. Tash took it marginally better than Brynn had expected, then started listing her grievances against Zeke all over again. Brynn tried to listen, but her mind kept wandering back to Iain’s proposal. Well, more of a demand, really. So typical of him, and so perfect for her. They had nothing in common, their personalities were at opposite ends of the spectrum, and yet they were a good pair.

Trying not to wake Tash the next morning, Brynn got ready as quietly as possible. She only had the slightest twinge about leaving Allie and Monica in the dark. She loved her sisters, and while they wouldn’t mean to take over her wedding, they would. This was supposed to be
her
day. The idea of doing this privately with Iain appealed to her romantic side. Like he said, they could always have a ceremony with the family later.

Besides, Allie and Trevor had eloped, so it wasn’t like Allie could throw stones. Of course, her family knew Trevor pretty well by that time. Brynn’s sisters didn’t know Iain at all, and that was Brynn’s fault. Next time, she’d make sure they got better acquainted in a safe, mutually respectful atmosphere—i.e., not Allie’s house—and Brynn would guide the conversation. She was turning over a new leaf, taking charge of her life, developing boundaries. She didn’t want her tombstone to read:
Here lies Brynn Campbell Chapman, a jellyfish of a human being.
She was finding her voice more and more every day. It wasn’t always easy for her, but it was worth the effort.

Now, Brynn stood before her mirror and appraised herself with critical eyes. She’d fixed her curls into a loose style and tucked one of the freesias from Iain’s bouquet behind her ear. The off-the-shoulder ivory dress was semi-bridal. Her mother’s inexpensive charm bracelet dangled from her wrist.

Brynn shook with nerves and she paced the living room, waiting for Iain to arrive. At eight thirty on the dot, she heard a car pull up out front. Grabbing her small purse, Brynn had the door open before Iain hit the porch. She glanced past his shoulder to the Hummer limo parked along the curb.

“Wow.” She gazed back at him. “It’s Barbie pink.”

Iain said nothing about the car. He’d stopped midstride and simply stared at her. The morning light slid over him, making his brown eyes look amber. His hair was so dark, certain strands appeared almost blue-black. Wearing a dove-gray suit and silver tie, he was so handsome, she had to stop and catch her breath.

“You’re a princess, you are.” His long legs ate up the distance between them. Brynn shut the door quietly behind her. “How did I get so lucky, eh?”

She placed her hand on his chest. He covered it with his own. “I have something old”—she gestured to the bracelet—“the flower is new. My toenails are blue. Do you have anything I can borrow? You know, just to keep with tradition.”

Iain pulled Davy’s dice from his pocket. “Hang on to these.”

She was touched that he shared them with her. “I won’t lose them.”

He dipped his head and kissed her lips lightly, solemnly. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak further. This was her wedding day. The only person she wished were there was her mother. Maybe Trisha Campbell was watching over Brynn. She liked to think so anyway.

Iain tucked Brynn’s hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her to the most hideous car she’d ever seen. Inside, resting on the hot-pink pleather seat, she found a lovely bouquet of peach-tipped roses.

“I hope they’re all right?” Iain said, climbing in beside her. “I know we said tacky—”

“They’re beautiful.” She stuck the dice in her bag and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. His skin was warm, solid. Iain Chapman made her feel safe and cared for. She hoped he felt the same way.

The chauffeur shut the door, leaving them shrouded in darkness. Except for the hot-pink neon strips of light rimming the floor.

Brynn gazed around. “This is so awesomely bad.”

“Worst I could find.” He already had a glass of champagne waiting for her.

Brynn began laughing when they clinked glasses. “I never went to my prom, but this is what I imagined it would be like.”

Iain slid his arm along the back of the seat. His fingers brushed her bare shoulder, gliding over her skin. She shivered at his touch. “Why didn’t you go to the prom?”

“The boy I liked, Rob Baker, didn’t ask me. I wouldn’t settle for second best.” She sipped from her flute and eased back, snuggling next to him.

“Whoever this Rob bloke was, he was a right idiot. Passing up a chance to go to prom with Brynnie Campbell. He should have his head examined.”

“You’re being very sweet, doing all this. You look incredibly handsome by the way.”

He shrugged. “I do my best.”

Brynn enjoyed the ride—every minute of rush-hour traffic. Not only because she was cuddled next to Iain, but because sitting in the pink monster was kitschy fun.

Applying for a license only took fifteen minutes. Next, they headed down the Strip, and Brynn glanced out the window, wondering what Iain had planned for the ceremony.

When he handed her another glass of champagne, she gazed at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to get me buzzed? It’s nine thirty. I’m usually on my third cup of coffee by now.”

“Wait until you see what I have in store. You’re going to need that drink, trust me.”

“Give me a hint.”

“No. No hints of any kind.”

The limo slowly made its way toward the end of the Boulevard, to the smallest chapel in Vegas. There were no other cars in the lot. Good thing too, because the Hummer took up a lot of room.

Iain escorted Brynn inside and to her utter delight, while the building appeared humble and ordinary on the outside, inside, the walls were covered in faded flocked wallpaper and chipped gold scrollwork. The threadbare zebra-print carpet had seen its best days decades ago.

A photographer met them at the door and began taking candid shots. He probably caught Brynn gasping.

“I made sure we’d have the place to ourselves,” Iain said. “What do you think?”

She gazed up at her future husband. “It’s awful. I
love
it.”

He raised one brow. “Thank God. I was worried it might be over the top.”

“Oh, it’s over the top.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “You’re amazing.”

“We’re not through.”

“There’s more?”

Iain led her through a set of double doors, and there, waiting at the end of the aisle, stood a Cher impersonator holding a rhinestone-encrusted microphone. With huge hair, a black beaded gown, a feathered headdress, and six-inch heels, if Brynn squinted and tilted her head to the side, she could definitely see a resemblance to the real thing.

The wedding of her Vegas dreams.

“Oh, Iain.”

Brynn clung to his arm as he escorted her down the aisle
.
Faux Cher licked her lips and vamped it up as she talked about the sanctity of marriage.

However, when Iain placed an antique band of diamonds on her finger, it suddenly got very real. Her eyes met his and she held her breath. This wasn’t a fantasy. It wasn’t a lark. She was
marrying
Iain Chapman, pledging herself to him. Forever.

Something in her heart shifted then. Brynn had never thought she’d find someone like him
.
Allie and Monica were settled and in love. She’d always wanted that for herself, but Brynn never believed it would happen. She didn’t even allow herself to hope. But in two short weeks, Iain had changed her life.

She gazed down at the ring, tears blurring her vision. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I wanted to buy the biggest bloody diamond they had,” he whispered. “But I thought this would suit you better. If you don’t like it—”

“I’m never taking it off.” It fit perfectly, and she tilted her hand to view it from every angle.

When it came time for Iain’s ring, he’d thought of that, too. He produced a thick gold band from his pocket and handed it to her. Her fingers trembled as she recited her vows and attempted to shove the ring on his finger. It took a couple of tries.

“Buck up, Brynnie. We’re almost done.”

That settled her nerves a bit. When it came time for the kiss, Iain framed her face with both of his hands. “I do love you, darling.” Then he kissed her so tenderly, her knees nearly gave out.

After the ceremony, they were treated to Cher lip-synching “Believe.” It was cheesetastic, every bit of it. Brynn couldn’t stop smiling. To her amazement, Iain couldn’t either.

“If you ever get tired of buying buildings, you can become a wedding planner.”

He grabbed her hand and spun her around. “Not in a million years, Mrs. Chapman.”

The whole thing took less than an hour. The photographer acted as a witness and took a million pictures.

When they left the building, Brynn found herself standing outside on the pavement in the hot morning sunshine. She glanced down at the ring again. She was a married woman.

Iain hustled her into the Hummer. Once they merged into traffic, he picked up her hand. “Feel any different?”

“Not yet. You?”

He nodded. “Everything’s different.”

She didn’t know where they were going, didn’t much care. Brynn was in a romantic haze and she never wanted to sober up.

The chauffeur dropped them off at Iain’s apartment complex, where the concierge offered his congratulations. Brynn and Iain rode the elevator side by side in silence. Iain hooked his arm around her waist. He hadn’t stopped touching her since they left the chapel.

Once they reached the top floor, Iain hurried to unlock the door. His long, quick strides had Brynn almost jogging to keep pace with him. He was in a hurry. But so was she. She wanted her husband—her freaking
husband
—naked and inside of her.

As soon as they stepped into the apartment, Iain spun around and pressed Brynn up against the door. He began kissing her, stroking his hand from her neck to her breast with a sure, sensual touch. But Brynn twisted her head to the side and dropped her purse and the bouquet to the floor. “I want you naked.”

“Ask nicely.”

Surprising him, she tugged on his tie. “Really, Iain. I want you naked first. Please?”

He rested his hands over Brynn’s, stilling her movements. He looked down at her, his gaze skimming her face. Lowering his head, he paused before kissing her. In the past, he’d been rough with her, emotional, tender, and soothing. But this kiss…this was a promise. She felt it as his lips moved over hers with purpose. When he straightened, he looked her square in the eye. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“All right then.” He divested himself of his jacket. “I’ll go first.” Together they worked the buttons on his vest and shirt. Brynn ripped at his clothes until his chest was bare.

As Iain tugged on the low shoulders of her dress, Brynn grabbed his hands. “I want to touch first. Just this once.”

“Touch later.”

“This is my wedding day.” She leveled her hands on his chest. “And I want to grope my husband.” Brynn slid her fingers up to the notch in the cap of Iain’s shoulders and gave his left pectoral an open-mouthed kiss.

Bracing his hands against the door on either side of her head, Iain closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. His stomach contracted, causing his muscles to flex. “Brynn. No, pet.”

For once, she ignored him and, very lightly, slipped her hands down his warm, solid flesh. Her nails gently raked over his flat nipples, turning them hard. She spread her hands wide over his ribs and felt along his sides, down to his narrow waist. His dick strained the fly of his slacks and let her know just how much her touch affected him.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on her lips. “Fine. Unzip my trousers.” As usual, he demanded.