A British Bride by Agreement (9 page)

He’d said something to Jonathan about
strengthening his character, but why did
he
have to run it? Couldn’t someone else over see it? Jonathan punched his pillow
to adjust it. This was just revenge for his wild days in his twenties. His
father would never forget the things that were splayed across the tabloids.
And his older brother, Joshua’s, death by suicide.
He would
never forgive Jonathan for keeping his brother’s secrets from the family. Joshua
had been bullied all his life. Jonathan figured his brother should be able to
make some decision on his own, even if they were wrong.

So now Jonathan was stuck in the charity
division to pay for his mistakes. What if he never got promoted back to the
main company? Desperation shook his well-crafted plan to move up the ranks
quickly. Frustrated thoughts crowded his mind. God hadn’t protected him from
Dede.
Hadn’t saved his older brother from dying.
Maybe
faith was just for Sundays.

He rubbed his mouth with his hand. He
would serve God, but it would be on his terms and if that had to be in the
family’s aid organization, so be it, but it would be just long enough for him
to prove himself.

His body melted off into a world of
weightlessness. The day slipped away and the pleasant awareness of drowsiness
swept over him. Before he fully succumbed, a warm relaxing sensation consumed
him, as if he was wrapping his arms around a feminine shape and breathing in
the light floral scent of silky hair.

CHAPTER FIVE

Emma drifted out of sleep. Her eyes
fluttered open as she focused on the gilded pictures on the wall. She closed
her eyes and let the memories of yesterday play out like a movie.
The wedding.
The string quartet.
The masses of staring people.
Jonathan. He looked quite posh
in his dark Armani suit. His eyes, twinkling, smiling, appearing vulnerable and
yet strong— her stomach rumbled.

Still sleepy, she fumbled for the duvet
to toss it aside, but something was lying across her middle, weighting her
down. Jonathan’s arm was wrapped around her middle.

As sunlight filtered through a crack in
the heavy drapes in the bedroom, Emma rubbed her eyes. Her heart sped up. What
was Jonathan doing in bed with her? And what was she wearing. She peered down
to find her wearing her traveling clothing. She had no memory of being put to
bed. Pressing her eyes shut, she eased out of his embrace.

How different he looked with his face at
peace and his hair mussed. She resisted the urge to smooth it back down into
place. Slipping out to the living area to give
herself
a private moment to think, the sight of the bare concrete floor and two metal
folding chairs made her jaw drop. In a flash, she remembered there had been no
two-bedroom suite available for them. She stepped back into the bedroom where
Jonathan was still sleeping. She leaned against the doorframe. Poor guy had
nowhere else to sleep. His relaxed face looked strikingly handsome, even with
his scruffy beginnings of a beard.

But a glance in a mirror revealed her
hair standing straight up on one side and mascara smeared across her cheek.
Anxious not to shock her new husband, she tiptoed into the bathroom and locked
the door. Thirty minutes later, she walked into the bedroom, dressed but still
toweling her wet hair. The bed was empty.

“Come join me,” Jonathan called from the
other room.

A card table had been adorned with a
tablecloth, fresh flowers, china plates, and crystal goblets. Three other
tables held rows of silver serving trays. “Herr Tag had the kitchen send us
every item on their breakfast menu. Are you hungry?”

“Good morning.” Emma sat at the table.
All this food for just two people?
She tried to look calm,
but this could feed an entire stadium of Cardinal baseball fans.
Absurd.
But at the smell of sausage, bacon, and coffee, her
mouth watered.

“Some pancakes?”

“Please.” She sat down, cut into a
butter-laden stack and took a bite. Apple pancakes. Warmth spread across her chest.
She pressed her fingers to her lips. Was the Lord trying to remind her she was
the apple of His eye?

“I want to apologize about the—the
sleeping arrangements.” He waved a fork-impaled sausage toward the bedroom. “I
know I promised—”

“Please, I understand—”

“I didn’t—you know, bother…er, you?” He
avoided her gaze.

Her face heating, she fixed her
attention on her food. “Me? No, you were sleeping quite peacefully.”

“Good. So, what should we do today? I
can arrange for a private tour of the
Schloss
Neuschwanstein
Castle, the one that was the inspiration for
the Disney World Castle. Or we could fly by helicopter to the Eagles Nest in
Bavaria. Or I could see about shutting down the
Nymphenberg
Palace just for us. Or I could book a private boat tour down the Danube River—”

“Could we just…walk around?” She poured
a cup of coffee for him and then tea for herself. “I mean, I’ve never been to
Germany before, and I’d love to just experience it.”

A slow smile spread across his lips as
if the simple concept had never occurred to him. “Sure, yes, that’s a good
idea. We’ll walk around.”

“Like an old—”

“Married
couple.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

He picked up a glass of orange juice.
“Shall we toast?
To us?”

Tenderness seeped like honey into her
soul, easing all her earlier concerns. Jonathan would be a good husband. “Yes,
to us.”

As their glasses clinked and they both
took a sip of fresh squeezed juice, his eyes never left hers. Happiness infused
her entire being. For a moment, she closed her eyes.
Thank you, Lord.
For the first time in a long time, hope welled in
her heart.

***

Jonathan and Emma strolled toward the
Marienplatz
, the city center of Munich. Cherry-red
geraniums bloomed in window boxes and overflowed from hanging baskets on the
street lamps. Everywhere, people were outside cycling or strolling, enjoying
the late morning.

Fall was Jonathan’s favorite time of the
year. The crisp air had a slight nip to it. The cool temperature invigorated
him, and the beautiful woman beside him made all the stress of the weeks leading
up to the wedding slip away like a bad dream.

The tension that gripped his shoulders
twenty-four/seven was gone and all that lay before him was five gorgeous days
in his favorite city with his wife.
Wife.
The word still shocked him like a hockey puck to the
chest. But so far, he had been pleasantly surprised, even amazed by her upbeat
attitude and thoughtfulness.

They mingled amidst all of the tourists
enjoying the fresh air. He was glad to see for now, there had been no paparazzi
following them. At the sound of the foreign words around him, he regretted not
ever attempting to learn German, but he’d always been here with his family who
had tours, events, meals, arranged by their staff.
Very
insulating.
This mixing with all the other visitors was a completely
different experience.

Emma paused on the street and pulled out
a guidebook from her large purse. “I think this is where Richard Strauss, the
composer, once lived.”

Jonathan smiled.
Clever
girl.
“I never knew that.”

“Could we tour the house?”

“Sure.”

The two stepped into a cozy room with
the sound of a coo-coo clock chiming in the background.

“
Guten
abend
, Good day,” greeted the older gentleman in
traditional leather lederhosen.

Emma pulled another small book from her
purse and flipped through the pages. She pointed to a tour sign.
“
Wieviel
?”

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. She knew
German?

She leaned in toward him. “I just wanted
to ask how much it cost to tour the home.”

He choked down a chuckle at her refreshing
naiveté. His family owned millions and she was worried about a few Euros. “You
have mastered German?”

“I think it’s always polite to make an
attempt to learn the country’s language instead of forcing them to use yours.
After all, we are the guests in their country.”

Not clever.
Brilliant.
He scrutinized her further. Why hadn’t he noticed how deeply intelligent she
was?

After a quick tour of the home, they
continued their journey around the city center.
The cobbled
lanes and picturesque jostle of steeple-roofed shops, their white facades
knitting together with squares and X’s of black timber, simmered with history.
The crowds thickened, filling the air with a myriad of languages. Emma kept
flipping through her book and pointing out interesting cultural sites in the
city he’d visited so often, but had never truly known.

“Are you sure you’ve never been here
before?” he asked.

“No, I just like learning about
different countries.”

“I’m amazed at how much you know
already.”

“Jonathan! Emma! Look here!” A swarm of
photographers blocked their path.

Jonathan held Emma’s arm and whispered
between a clenched smile, “Just stand and grin, they will soon go away.”

But one tall photographer got on his
knees in front of Emma and aimed his camera. “What’s it like to be suddenly be
a rich lady?”

Emma frowned and stepped back.

The tall photographer moved toward her
and kept snapping pictures.

Jonathan paced forward and, without
dropping his smile, pressed on the guy’s shoulder until he tripped over
himself.

“Emma! Jonathan! Over here please!”

Jonathan was done with smiling. This was
meant to be a private honeymoon. “That’s all gentlemen.” He took Emma’s hand
and led her in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, Emma was shoved from behind.

Jonathan tried to catch her before she
fell, but he missed her and she went sprawling onto the cobblestone road.

She yelped in pain.

Jonathan fell to her side, when a
balding photographer stuck a camera in her pain-etched face and started taking
pictures.
“Marriage not going so well?
Husband
cheating on you already?”

Jonathan stepped between Emma and
gripped the cruel man’s camera, twisting it until it fell to the ground,
splintering into pieces. “Send me the bill.”

He then swirled around and fell to her
side. “Darling,” he cradled her bleeding head in his hands. “Are you all
right?”

Emma nodded.

He helped her to her feet, but once he
turned, the camera-less photographer punched Jonathan in the gut. Jonathan
groaned as he bent forward, but he resisted closing his blurred eyes to keep his
attention on Emma. Scrambling to his feet, Jonathan grabbed Emma by the hand.
“Run!”

The two ran as fast as they could down a
type of alleyway, across a car-filled busy street, through a throng of tourists
and darted into a souvenir shop. With their backs turned and heads down, they
stared earnestly at a collection of beer steins. Jonathan and Emma were gasping
to catch their breath.

“Are they gone?” Emma asked.

Jonathan edged his gaze over his
shoulder.
“Just passing by now.”
He dared a glance at
her, steeling his reaction to her injuries. Her head was bleeding, and so were
the palms of her hands. Fury bolted through him. He clenched his jaw and
resisted going after those men, knowing that all it would do is give them the
angry photos they wanted of him. He whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at
her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen photographers act so aggressive.”

She shook her head as tears welled in
her eyes.
“But why?
Why would they want to hurt me and
then take pictures?”

“You are a public figure now. Our
photos, and certainly your lovely face, is
worth a lot of
money.”

“But how did they know we were here?”
Her voice trembled.

He wiped a tear from her cheek with his
thumb. “Someone tipped them off. We will just have to be a bit more careful. She
fell into his arms, and he savored the feeling of protecting her.

After a few minutes, she pulled away
from him with a flush to her cheeks. “I—I’m fine, just a couple of scrapes
really.” She kept her attention on wiping her hands and forehead.

A small grin formed on his lips at her
sudden embarrassment. He took the cloth from her and cleaned away the rest of
the dirt from her forehead. On impulse he kissed her forehead. “All better?”