Loved by Beauty (Harper's Mill Book 4) Page 3

  Isabelle nodded, recognizing this battle was over. The war, however, was far from won. “I guess we’re at check mate,” she said, knocking her queen down.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said, looking into the amber depths of his tumbler.

  “How can I convince you to be there next Saturday if I leave?” She reached for a hug and was surprised when Nick enveloped her in his strong arms. She closed her eyes, pretending for a moment they were back in school and his fourth tour in Iraq was still years in the future.

  She didn’t believe in wishes anymore.

  After losing Nick, she didn’t believe in anything anymore.

  Ignoring his edicts to go home, Isabelle wandered through the old Victorian mansion until she found her suitcase and the Blue Room.

  Despite its moniker, the Blue Room was painted a soothing shade of white. Sheer curtains framed the room in a relaxing cobalt blue and matched the floral quilt on the bed. The room was decorated in tasteful shades of blue, ranging from pale ocean to deep cerulean.

  She touched the quilt, surprised Nick had something quite so “homey” in his otherwise oversized masculine home.

  A breeze blew and the curtains billowed like dancers out of step.

  Isabelle’s breath caught.

  Memories assaulted her like it was yesterday.

  “I’ve always loved that shade of blue on you.”

  His senior prom and he looked so handsome. He'd looked grown up in his first tuxedo and bow tie, his chestnut hair freshly cut, red highlights gleaming in the sun. His green eyes had been uncertain as they walked through the doors of the restaurant and he’d gripped her hand tightly for support.

  She was just a kid really. A sophomore playing grown up on senior prom.

  But the way he’d looked at her that night made her believe in forever.

  Too bad she didn’t believe in forever anymore.

  But maybe, her traitorous heart thought, maybe forever did exist. This room was an homage to her. Her dress had been the same cobalt as the curtains. The quilt. The image of the ocean hanging over the small bedroom sized fireplace.

  A small book appeared on the night stand. Explaining Injuries: A Family’s guide to PTSD.

  ~*~*~*~

  “How do you think she’s doing?” Miles asked, looking around his living room at his brother, his fiancée and Sloane.

  “It’s been three days. She hasn’t called for backup yet, so she must be doing okay,” Sloane said.

  “Or he’s kidnapped her and holding her hostage,” Braden said, standing up and pacing by the large picture window.

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” Miles scoffed. “It could never be because they’re talking and getting to know each other again. I thought that was the point of this whole thing. To get the two of them talking again.”

  “It is,” Braden said, his voice grim. “But Nick’s changed. Gotten harder. I don’t want our sister getting hurt.”

  Miles looked at Braden for a long moment. “Is Nick capable of hurting Isabelle?”

  “I don’t know,” Braden admitted. “I just don’t know anymore. Sloane, what do you think?”

  Sloane's lips twisted and she arched one elegant eyebrow at him. Oh, Braden Decker really didn't want to know what was on her mind.

  Diana cleared her throat to ease the growing tension. "Miles, do something."

  "Maybe we should have left him alone, Di," Miles said. "He's hurt. Hurting."

  "I want us all back together," Diana said, reaching for his hand. "I miss the way things were."

  “Maybe we should all do what she did,” Sloane suggested. “Just charge up there and demand entrance. Hold him hostage until he agrees to the wedding. Maybe I was wrong to let Miss Tyler bar me from seeing him.”

  “I’m free,” Diana said. “Let’s go storm the castle.”

  Sloane’s gaze moved from Braden to Diana to Miles. “Sounds good,” she said. “Let’s roll.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Nick rubbed his eyes. He was dreaming. He had to be. There was no way this blonde goddess was on his patio, working on her tan.

  “You should put something on,” Nick said. These last few days had been both heaven and hell. Pleasure and pain. She was the missing piece of his puzzle, but he had no idea how to get her to fit. If she even wanted to fit.

  “I’m in a swimsuit,” Isabelle returned, a copy of Forgiveness after Betrayal over her face to protect her pale skin from too much sun. “I am perfectly decent. The bridesmaid dresses are strapless. I need to get my tan lines covered.”

  “Isn’t there like makeup or something up for that?”

  Isabelle raised and lowered a shoulder. “Probably. But since you’re being stubborn, I’m here.”

  “I’m being stubborn?”

  “If you would agree to go, I’d be gone.”

  Nick’s voice, already smoke damaged, grew huskier. “Is that what you want, Belle?”

  She was quiet so long; he didn’t think she was actually going to answer. Finally, she sat up and responded with a question of her own. “Why, Nick? Why did you get married?”

  There she was, Nick thought. Direct to the point Belle.

  “I hated her,” Isabelle admitted. “It was supposed to be us, Nick. You and me. Forever. There was never supposed to be a Candy Fox in the picture.” She shuddered, just saying the name.

  “No, there shouldn’t have been. I had already seen a lawyer before I left on my last tour. She liked it best when I was away. I think the reality of living with me was more than she could handle.” How could he explain that with her dyed blonde hair and faded blue eyes, she was a low rent version of Belle Decker? What had he been thinking? He’d been thinking he was lonely and waiting the three years for the real Isabelle to grow up had felt insurmountable.

  He’d been selfish and had been thinking with his dick.

  Nick sat next to her in one of the chairs and looked out at the acres of lavender, daisies, and sunflowers. “I was an idiot and lonely. Candy was . . . I don’t know. I guess the old adages are right. I wasn’t thinking with the right head.”

  Isabelle arched her eyebrow at his answer, but she shook her head, sadly. “Lonely sucks.”

  “It really does,” Nick agreed. “And I was completely alone, Belle. New city. New people. New rules. No family at all after Uncle Nicholas died.” He shrugged and dropped his head. “I wanted something to call my own.”

  The raw pain in his voice caught her off balance. He always seemed so well adjusted. Able to laugh anything off with a sharp retort and a quick grin.

  But inside, he’d been a wreck.

  “It’s beautiful here,” Isabelle commented changing the subject and lifting her book to admire the flowers in various stages of bloom.

  Nick grasped at the conversation changer like a dying man to oxygen.

  “I’ve been working with a bee co-op,” Nick said. “I plant what will attract native species of bees and the co-op from the college comes and harvests the honey and takes care of the hives. In return, I get gorgeous views and a share of the honey sells.”

  “I didn’t know,” Isabelle said. She stretched, her hands on the top of her bikini to keep from exposing herself to Nick.

  “It wasn’t a secret but I guess I had no one to tell. I remodeled Fox Den three years ago and found a hive on the property. Called the college and they relocated the honey bees to a safer location. With the cost of land these days, they were having problems finding large tracts of land for the bees. Everyone on the cul-de-sac was interviewed. We definitely wanted to be aware of any allergy issues but we got the go-ahead and now our combined land is home to hundreds of thousands of bees”

  “That’s amazing, Nick.” She stood and faced him, framing his face in her hands. “Sometimes it’s like we’re kids again. You’re the same and yet . . . so different. What happened?”

  “Four tours in Iraq,” Nick said, meeting her gaze. “The last one was kind of a blast but it took me that long to figure out my lucky number was
three.” His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile and Isabelle felt her heart beat a little stronger in her chest.

  Her eyes filled with tears and with gentle, deliberate slowness brought her lips to his. Nick froze for a moment, caught in the web Belle spun as effortlessly as she did everything else before softening his mouth and kissing her back.

  He groaned at the sheer pleasure of her softly perfect body next to his. Touching his. His hands hovered for a moment before settling on the curved rise of her hips. She was perfectly formed. Perfectly fitted. To him.

  Hope lay like a bubble just beyond his reach. In the past, he’d always tried to muscle through what stood between him and hope.

  But maybe. Just this time. He would allow hope to come to him.

  Passion surrounded them in a haze of desire and bliss. Together, they sought it and eagerly embraced it. He took her hands from his face, stood, and pulled her closer. “Belle,” he said, softly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for you. That I was in such a rush to grow up that I forgot about what’s important.”

  “I want you. But not for just a day,” Isabelle said, tracing the line of his jaw.

  “We can start with forever,” Nick said, opening his eyes, ignoring his own plan to let happiness come to him. “Negotiate from there.”

  “And you’ll come to the wedding?”

  Nick rolled his eyes and grinned. “Tenacious Belle. Yes! But only as your date. Will you go with me to Walter Reed? I was going to drive but if you’re with me, we can fly.”

  “Deal.” She nodded, standing on her toes and reached for the deliciously soft lips of the finest man she’d ever been honored to kiss.

  ~*~*~*~

  They were remarkably well dressed for a band of marauders, Miss Tyler thought as she opened the door.

  “They’re on the back patio,” she said as she let them in.

  “How is it going?” Braden asked.

  “Well, he didn’t kick her out or call the police. That’s a good sign.”

  “He wouldn’t call the police! Would he?” Sloane asked, leading the charge to the patio. She skidded to a stop at the sight of Isabelle wrapped around Nick and Nick pressing her tightly against a brick retaining wall. Her mouth opened as if to say “Oh” and she turned to look at Di.

  “Oof,” Di said, as Miles and Braden plowed into her. Everyone stared at the couple intertwined with passionate purpose.

  “Uh, Nick?” Isabelle said as Nick worked his magic on the soft exposed neck.

  “Mmm?”

  “We have company.”

  He turned with her in his arms and took in the assortment of friends on the patio. “Good grief,” he muttered. “If it’s that important, I will be honored to be there, Di. Miles. Sloane, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He nodded once to Braden and dismissed them from his mind. He had five feet three inches of delectable female in his arms and he was damned if he was going to spend time doing anything less but giving her his full attention.

  Firming his grip on Isabelle, Nick entered his library with her, leaving their friends staring after them.

  “Was she even dressed?” Braden said unsure if he should be outraged or overjoyed. Although he was happy his friend and sister had worked through the seemingly insurmountable issues between them, he also found himself warming to the role of the protective older brother.

  “I think she was in a swimsuit,” Di said.

  “Both pieces?” Miles asked, only to find himself on the receiving end of a back of the head slap from his brother.

  “Do we wait for them?” Braden asked.

  “No!” Sloane said, smacking him lightly in the stomach with the back of her hand. “We’re going to give them some privacy.”

  “Does this mean he’s going to start living again?” Miles asked.

  “He was always living, Miles,” Miss Tyler said chidingly, joining them on the patio with a tray of lemonades. “He’s had almost back to back surgeries for the last two years. He just didn’t want to burden anyone with it. You know how he is.”

  Sloane stared at her shoes before meeting Miss Tyler’s gaze. “We’re family. Family isn’t a burden.”

  Miss Tyler shrugged and led them all back into her office near the foyer. “As for the wedding, Diana, you do realize he is under almost constant medical attention. He has two appointments next week in Bethesda.

  Di nodded, looking momentarily regretful. “I had no way of knowing that.”

  “I know. And that’s his fault, I agree. But friends also need to respect each other’s boundaries.”

  Di and Miles exchanged a long look. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Di said.

  Miss Tyler looked at them reproachfully. “I agree he needs to get out more and be comfortable with it. But don’t you think your assumptions have been unfair to him?”

  Chapter Four

  Despite the daylight hour, his bedroom remained in shadows. The soft echo from a distant train played a note of wistful discord amid the heavy breathing and kisses torn from the souls of Nick and Isabelle.

  "I can't wait," he muttered, throwing off his shirt, barely remembering his own name, let alone to worry about the scars caused by war millions of miles away.

  "I don't want you to," she cried, peppering small kisses down his chest, halting as she reached her knees and the snap of his jeans. She smiled up at him, wicked with intent.

  "I don't think I can" he began, only to find himself mercilessly shut up by the feel of her petal soft hands releasing the snap on his worn denim and releasing his cock.

  "Oh, I think we're going to find out exactly what you can," Isabelle said with a self-satisfied smirk on her delicate features. "I've waited a lifetime to have you. I'm not rushing this."

  Nick's laugh was a little hoarse. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

  "Come up with your own," she said with a saucy grin. And then the conversation was over as she slid his boxer briefs down the hard trunks of his legs and enveloped his cock in the pristine heat of her mouth.

  He cried out, bracing himself against the bed with one hand while the other stroked her curls. "Just like that," he whispered in the hushed silence of the bedroom. "Jesus, yes."

  As desperately as he wanted to get them both to the bed, he was equally loathe to disturb the gentle rhythm she'd created. She sucked a little, creating a toe-curling suction on the tip of his dick and then tugged her head ever so gently. "Belle. Bed. Please," he begged, voice hoarse and legs trembling. It had been years since he'd felt a woman's touch.

  She kissed the small patch of hair that began at his naval. "Like that, do ya'" Her grin was pure mischief and bliss. Pure feminine power and sensual woman. Pure Belle.

  "Bed," he said, his voice a little more stable. He looked at her and grinned. "One of us is a little over dressed for this occasion."

  She stood up, curls bouncing with energy. "That's easily fixed." She slid out of the bathing suit with mouthwatering ease and crawled into the center of his bed. She lay, waiting for him. Eyes hungry as she devoured him. "I thought you couldn't wait," she asked, taking one of her fingers and trailing it down the curve of one pale, pink tipped breast. She stopped, playing with the nipple, causing it to tighten.

  Nick licked his lips. He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Isabelle Decker and yet. He waited. He swallowed hard and simply watched as her index finger swirled around first one areola, and then the other. She paused, lifting each breast as though to show off her sweet perfection to his helpless gaze.

  He panted as that same finger, slid down her belly, pausing gently at her belly button. Her blue eyes watched his expression like a cat so very sure of the cream she was about to receive.

  "Want me to go lower?"

  Did he? Hell, yeah, but he wanted there, too. Numbly, he nodded. There wasn't a power on the planet that could have pulled him out of this bedroom. Out of the almost reach of the love of his life.

  The love he thought he'd lost forever only to find her once more. In his own back
yard.

  Slower than Nick thought possible, her finger slid towards her sex, parting the delicate flesh of her pussy and exposing the gleaming pink core.

  He moved then. Caught in a passion of her creation and with only one thing on his mind. She was his and he was here to love her. Ravish her. Claim her.

  She flinched at the delicate touch of his tongue before relaxing into him. Her hands found his hair and she pulled him against core and ground herself against his beard.

  Her delicate, slightly salty essence delighted him and he swore to them both that this was a meal he'd partake in every night for the rest of his life.

  She cried out as pleasure washed over her and he brushed a gentle kiss against her pussy before lifting himself to cover her completely.

  She reached for his kiss. "I can taste myself on your beard," she murmured, stroking his hair, her eyelids heavy and drunk with pleasure.

  "I don't have a condom," he said. "I'm clean. But tell me now if this isn't what you want."

  "You're never getting away again," she declared, twining her legs around his hips and pulling him into her. "Give me your baby," she whispered against his lips.

  He closed his eyes and cried out with the beauty of it all. The day. The woman. The taste. The smell. The possibility of new life.

  He positioned his cock to slide it home and paused. "Belle?"

  "I told you," she said. "I waited a life time for this." Green eyes met blue in the haze of the afternoon as the importance of her words slid into understanding. "You're a virgin," he stated, as though revealing something that required astounding intelligence.

  "No one else was you," she whispered, tears trembling on her lashes.

  "Oh, Belle," he said. And he made them one.

  ~*~*~*~

  The late afternoon sun was long past the horizon as Isabelle and Nick held each other, their bodies sated and serene.

  “Do you think they left?”

  Nick laughed and rolled onto his back. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “Can you imagine them waiting at the bottom of the stairs? Di and Sloane dying of embarrassment while your brothers hold shotguns on me. Demanding to know my intentions.”