Bearing It All (25 page)

Her mama pushed her back and looked at her bald head and bruised face. “
Mon Dieu,
what have you been through? Papa, good thing you bought two bottles of champagne. She has a lot to tell us.” Her gaze swept over Ronan as he stood. “He's quite handsome, but so young to be bald.”

“Giselle, can't you see he's been injured, too. I guess they had to shave your heads to repair the injuries.” Pierre LeBlanc opened his arms for the traditional French hug. “Ronan Matheson, I remember you well. Full of questions, you were, and always eager to do your very best.” He wrapped his arm around Anisa's waist. “Is this the man you've fallen in love with?”

She held out her hand. “Yes. We're engaged.”

“Well, I approve!” her grandfather proclaimed.

Her mama took a closer look at the ring. “My, it's Art Deco. Very chic. Papa, open the champagne.” She kissed her daughter. “You know we never believed what we heard in the news about you. Never. We know our princess. Then, Gaston gave us your letter of explanation. You were always so thoughtful. Thank you for easing our concerns somewhat in that note.”

“Ye have a marvelous daughter. She's perfect in me eyes. We are planning on a short engagement. Perhaps, if it's convenient, the two of you could shop for a wedding gown tomorrow. Me family owns a lodge, ye may come stay with us fer the wedding festivities. It will give us a chance to get to know each other.”

“What date are we talking about?” Giselle glanced from Ronan to Anisa.

Anisa gave Ronan a look that said “help.”

“Let me call me mum. She can check open dates.” When his mum answered, Ronan explained and she asked for a minute while she opened her reservation file on the computer. “I have the second weekend of April and the first weekend of May. Three days open, both dates.”

He glanced in his beloved's eyes and repeated the choices.

“The second weekend of April sounds great to me. I'll only have a few relatives—ten maybe—coming from Paris and you'll have your clan. It should be a small affair.”

“Mum, put us down for the April date and start planning a wedding. Anisa is expecting around ten family members from France. We're having champagne with her mum and grandpa now, making plans on her end. Love ye.” He ended the call. “April tenth, me luv, and we'll be wed.”

Her mother put her hands to her cheeks. “Yes, tomorrow will be a shopping day. We will have fun. Ronan, will you join us?”

“No, I think I'd like to spend the day with Pierre in his shop. I have many good memories from there. Would you mind?” He looked at the old man whose face was shining with pride.

Pierre nodded. “Yes. This we will do. Hardly anyone comes to my workshop anymore.”

The champagne cork popped and discussion began on all the two of them had been through. Anisa lifted the flute to her battered lips and feigned drinking. She drank water, instead, just in case there
was
a baby. During the course of their long conversation, no mention was made of the bear shifters. Ronan was just happy he'd been accepted into her family. There was no reason to muddle their joy with something they might not understand.

Cool March breezes from the Seine blew in the opened French windows of Anisa's small apartment. Heat from naked skin against naked skin kept Anisa and Ronan warm beneath the blankets. Early in the morning, Anisa straddled him and ran her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“Ye are a troublemaker.”

“And your voice is sexy as hell when you first wake up.” She wrapped her hand around his erection. “So is this, my man. Think how great it would feel inside me. It's been hard against me all night.”

He cupped her bruised cheek with a gentle hand. “Nay, ye are too bruised and sore. I will nay risk hurting you, me Beauty.”

She laughed and lifted her hips enough to impale herself on his cock. “I promise to be gentle, if you think you can't take it rough.” Her hands rubbed over his abs and pecs, while her hips gently rose and fell.

“Ye drive me insane with need, woman.” His hands grabbed her ass cheeks and aided in her movement. “I canna kiss yer swollen face or lips, but I can kiss yer neck and breasts. And I can tell ye over and over how much I love ye.”

“Tell me. Show me. Fuck me. I need you, Ronan. Now. Now!” And her violent climax made her shake and chant his name…while Ronan's fingers grabbed her harder and he emptied himself into her. They fell back to sleep entwined in each other's arms.

Later in the morning, Anisa and Ronan took a taxi to her mama's house. While Anisa insisted she could walk, Ronan reminded her she'd be doing a lot of walking as she shopped and that she was still healing. He also suggested she wear flats and carry her stilettos in a bag for when she tried on a gown. She opened her mouth to argue and his one eyebrow arched. So, she made him carry the bag of high heels, which he seemed pleased to do.

Giselle greeted them both with a kiss to each cheek. “I have dreamed of the day I'd help my daughter pick out a wedding gown. I am so very excited.” Her mama's face glowed with happiness.

Ronan hugged her mama and whispered something in her ear. And her mama nodded and patted his arm. “I agree, my son.” She turned to her daughter. “Anisa, I am so impressed with your choice. I wish your sister's husband were a third as thoughtful.” She called for a taxi.

“All the Matheson men spoil their wives, love, and protect them. They don't allow them to walk all over them, but they do pamper a lot.”

“Ronan, while the women wait for their taxi, why don't we walk to my workshop. Do you still remember the way?”

“I remember all ye taught me and the crush I developed on Anisa that summer.” The men chatted like long-lost friends as they went out the door.

At the first bridal shoppe Anisa and her mother entered, the manager came over, looked Anisa up and down, and almost sneered. “We do not carry sizes this large.” She waved an open hand to her.

“
Cést bon,
” her mama replied. “We've always heard your gowns were inferior in workmanship, but we thought we'd give you the benefit of the doubt.” With her pert French nose in the air, she sashayed out. “Skin-and-bone bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

The second shoppe did carry her size, but they were stocked for summer weddings. Anisa explained to the elderly saleslady that she was getting married in a month in Scotland, where it would still be quite cool in April. The saleslady, with her silver hair styled in a chignon, held up her crooked, arthritic finger. “I have a few winter gowns left in the back. Let's have a look, shall we?”

Mama leaned in and whispered, “At least this one's nicer. Let's look at her goods.”

The older woman laid several gowns covered in plastic bags over a large table and looked at Anisa. “I do have a wedding gown, usually worn at Christmas, but it requires a lady with broad shoulders and large firm breasts to pull it off. I think you might be perfect for it.” She pulled out a champagne-colored satin gown with an off-the-shoulder large band of fur. A smaller band of fur trimmed the long sleeves. Fur was also at the hemline. “This is faux fur, of course.”

Anisa gasped, thinking of the family of shifters she was marrying into. “It's perfect. May I try it on?” She changed into her high heels, and when the saleslady donned cotton gloves to help her into the gown, Anisa was in love.

“Look how it fits her! I was so right. She's got the build for this gown.”

Her mama frowned. “Yes, she looks fabulous in it, but fur in April?”

“Mama, trust me on this. As cold as the winds blow in off of Mathe Bay, this is perfect. I love how it fits.”

The saleslady stepped up on a stool and pulled down a round box. “Now for the
pièce de
résistance.
” She opened the box, unwrapped the tissue paper, and removed a pillbox hat of matching faux fur with an attached shoulder-length veil decorated with crystals. “Since it is technically a spring wedding, I could add a sprig of lily of the valley. Hold on, I have some silk flowers over here.” She was back in a few minutes with a lovely silk flower sprig and some crystals to match what was attached to the veil. Holding them both up to one side of the pillbox, she glanced at Anisa's mama. “Your opinion, madam? Is it better with or without?”

Her mama tapped her index finger against her chin. “With, I think. It adds that certain something.”

The saleslady tilted her head and wrapped her skinny arm in Anisa's mama's. “I'm wondering…I could shorten the sleeves so they come just below the elbow, instead of the wrist.”

Anisa imagined how that would look and discovered she liked the idea. “
Oui.
I like it! How about you?” She glanced at her mama, who was smiling and fiddling with her pearls—always a good sign.

“Of course all my alterations are free and guaranteed.”

“Well, my princess, it looks as if we've found your gown and veil. All that's left is the lingerie and heels.”

The pregnancy was wearing her down. Between naps and morning sickness, Anisa was glad she didn't have to work for a while. The wedding was approaching in a week and her family would arrive in a few days. She hoped she could stay awake for the ceremony. Certainly, her prenatal vitamins should soon be kicking in.

Every morning, instead of joining in the smells and sights of the typical Scottish heavy breakfast, she'd grab a slice of toast and a mug of coffee. Then she'd go for a walk down the road and across the bridge over the moat. The fresh pine air, even on foggy sunrise days, was a joy—one she'd imagined as she'd studied the area. Spring flowers were beginning to break through the ground. Some days, Ronan would walk with her, his arm around her waist tucking her against his side. He'd pull her behind a tree and kiss her, telling her how precious she was to him. After the stress of the previous few weeks, this time was utter joy, even with the morning sickness.

About two nights a week, Magnus would shift from Ronan's body, while he was sleeping, and lay his furry head on top of the blankets, covering her abdomen. He'd croon in a soft, gentle voice to the baby. She knew how excited he was about this bairn. To reward his gentleness, she'd rub his ears.

Her hair was starting to grow back. Her head was no longer bald; it was covered with short hair that made her look as if she'd styled it in spikes. Ronan's was growing back, too. They'd have some weird wedding pictures.

Between Fiona and Cook Edweena and Mary Kate, Effie's cook, the wedding feast was going to be bigger than she'd imagined. She helped when she could, but some of the smells didn't agree with her stomach and she had to rush off to be sick. The women teased her about having smelling sickness instead of morning sickness, and she was beginning to think they were right.

The wedding day was finally here and her mama wanted her daughter to herself to dress. After all Anisa had been through, the women in Ronan's family were very understanding, except for Colleen, who knew how to sulk. She brightened up when Anisa asked her to be in charge of delivering flowers to the members of the wedding party.

Anisa had just slipped into her white satin Pradas when her mama zipped up the back of the gown. “The old lady did an excellent job with altering the sleeves, my princess. It was just what the gown needed. Now fix your boobs so Ronan's eyes pop out a bit when he first sees you.”

As if my boobs aren't big enough now.

Someone knocked on the door and her mama opened it. Colleen smiled and handed her a box. “These are from Uncle Ronan fer his bride.”

“
Merci.
You look lovely in your spring green flower girl dress.”

Colleen curtseyed. “Thank ye.”

Anisa removed the lid from the box and found a bouquet of white calla lilies and pale yellow roses. She kept smelling them as her mother attached her pillbox hat and veil. Grandpa came in with his camera and snapped several pictures of her before the ceremony started.

Bagpipes began playing old Scottish tunes and the wedding party assembled. The ceremony was to be held in the main hall. Greenery and heather decorated the railing of the stairway. Creighton and Bryce were standing up for Ronan. Paisley and Kenzie were Anisa's attendants in spring green satin sheaths with a sash of Matheson tartan running diagonally across their chests. Both mothers were seated and Colleen, the flower girl, sprinkled rose petals.

When she reached the place where the groom and all the attendants stood, she turned toward the wedding guests, who gave a few guffaws and “Oh no”s.

“What could be so comical?” Pierre looked at Anisa, his silver eyebrows furrowed.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to Matheson Lodge. Me name is Colleen Matheson and I am the cheery greeter here. I welcome all our guests. 'Tis a learning experience fer me, so 'tis. I learn about all different cultures since we have guests from all over the world. Now, take the French, fer instance. They must never give each other anything, fer every time we do, they go, ‘
Merci!
' like it never happens in that country. Isna that a sad thing? I've been given strict orders not to mention Butler Bean beating his tallywacker, so I willna make that mistake again. But I am glad to see Uncle Ronan get married. I didna ken he could smile so much. Now he'll have nay excuse for keeping magazines of naked women under his bed.”

Creighton stepped out and clapped his hand over her mouth. “Me thinks yer welcome is over.”

Anisa glared at her red-faced groom, while her grandpa, who was to escort her down the aisle, was having a fit of giggles. The music started for her to go meet Ronan and exchange vows. They were so different, yet so much alike. And she loved him with all her heart, dirty magazines or no. The closer she got, the wider his eyes grew. Something else must have been growing, too, because he kept his hands on his sporran.

“I didna think it was possible ye could look any prettier than ye do every day.” He took her hand, turned her palm over, and kissed it. “I will love and cherish ye forever, me Beauty.”

“I will love and rely on ye forever, me Beast.” And she batted her eyes.