Haunted Honeymoon (33 page)

And when I arrived by my groom’s side and looked into his dark eyes, I thought,
Love, love, love.

Ian, wearing an exquisite black suit and white shirt, smiled his dangerous smile, and my heart was so full, I thought it would burst. When he took my hands, I felt the thrill that no one else gave me, and I knew he felt the same thrill.

The doorman Lenny’s wife, a minister, conducted the brief service. Ian slipped an ancient gold and ruby band on my finger, and it looked exactly right.

The minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,”
and Ian kissed me, sending shivers down my back. Everyone clapped and many hooted and hollered and the party started right away, just the way we’d wanted it to.

Champagne corks popped, guests started chattering, and the band began playing. My new father-in-law, compact and distinguished Augustin Ducharme, in tails and a sash with medals, kissed me on both cheeks, saying, “Our son is a lucky man!”

Lala Ducharme looked both chic and matronly in a pink Chanel suit. She held my hands in her small ones and said, “We’ve been waiting for this day ever since Ian told us about you. I know you will be a good wife.”

“I will do my very best.”

Friends handed me off from one to another, kissing me and wishing me well. Nancy said, “You look incredible, and I knew you’d get to wear a tiara. My envy is boundless. You should keep it on for the wedding night. Do you have a title now, too?”

“I’ve always had one. It’s Miracle of the Saints.”

“I’ll find out and get calling cards for you. The more hyphens the better.”

“I’m keeping my name, and a toaster would be fine.”

“I knew you would have this kind of wedding. The only thing I was off on was the bongos and bad poetry.”

“You know me too well, Nancita.”

Ian’s sister, Cornelia, came at me with her thin arms open wide, like a spider in haute couture. “Dearest!”

“Cornelia!”

She smirked and said, “You see, I told you I would be at your wedding to the man you loved.”

“You certainly did, Cornelia, although I was annoyed when you sabotaged my engagement to Oswald.”

“It was from love, Milagro. I couldn’t wait until you were my
sister. I have the best brother in the world, but I’ve always wanted a sister.”

“Me, too.”

I was pulled away by Gabriel, who said, “You look ravishing, Mrs. Dark Lord.”

“So do you, Gabriel. Will we see you and Charlie next month?”

“Yes, and while we’re in Lviv, Charlie will be looking at a chalet to convert to a hotel.”

“We’ll go sightseeing together, Gabriel.”

“I think our lives are inextricably tied, girlfriend,” he said, and kissed my cheek.

Although I got sidetracked, I set my course for Edna, who was chatting with Gigi Barton and her guest. Kisses went round and Edna said to me, “You have never looked so radiant.”

“I never thought I’d marry Ian.”

“You were the only one, Young Lady. The rest of us knew it the moment you two crocodiles met.”

“You could have saved me trouble and told me.”

She gazed at me with her gorgeous green eyes. “I think that you have become a lady at last, Milagro.”

“Don’t say that, Edna. I want to believe that I can do better.”

“Don’t expect an argument from me,” she said. “I’ve figured out your superhero power.”

“You have?”

“Look around you.”

I did, and said, “All I see is people waiting for the roast pork to be served and the dancing to begin. What’s my superpower?”

“You open people to passion. There’s my grandson Sam with his wife and child, and that wouldn’t have happened without you. Gabriel wouldn’t have met Charlie if you hadn’t caused problems. Mercedes and Pepper are an oddly right couple. Nettie and Wilcox are together as they wish.”

Suddenly, everywhere I turned, I saw couples who had come together in connection to me.

The crowd quieted a little as Thomas Cook approached, looking more beautiful than his photographs.

Edna said, “I never would have met Thomas if not for your shenanigans.”

Thomas kissed my cheek and said to Edna, “I told Milagro she was a happy ending sort of girl.”

“You were right, Thomas,” she said with a smile. “You have a deeper understanding of character than people give you credit for.”

“I’m not just a stunning face and amazing body.”

The besotted actor pulled Edna away and I saw one more couple I’d brought together, Oswald and Lily. In a slate gray suit that intensified the silver-gray of his clear eyes, he looked like the successful professional he was. Lily was lovely in a shimmery lavender dress and a wrap around her ivory shoulders.

They held hands and came to me. “Best wishes,” Lily said. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Lily, and thanks for bringing the roses from the ranch.”

“I’m learning more about them,” she said. “Oh, and I’ve got some questions about planting for late summer blooms.”

“I’ll give you a call and we’ll talk.”

“Maybe you could come up sometime,” she said, and then Oswald glanced at her. “Or we can have a just-girls lunch until things are more settled.”

“That would be fine. I’ll save up my gardening catalogs for you.”

“Great. Excuse me, because I’ve got to try a margarita,” Lily said.

Then she left us, and I was staring at Oswald and remembering so many things.

My former fiancé looked solemn. “I’ve never seen you look so happy and beautiful. You got the wedding you wanted—the club, the music, the food, the dress …”

“This is more my style than a formal wedding. You know that.”

“Yes, but I kept hoping you’d change.”

“Funny, I kept hoping that about me, too. Ian once told me, ‘You’re Milagro de Los Santos, why would you ever want to be anything else?’”

“He was right. Goddamn Ian Ducharme. Before, during, and after, it was always Ian.”

“Why did you try with me, then, Oz?”

“Because you’re so damn hot and I was in love with you. Why did you try with me?”

“Because you’re the perfect partner for a sincere and serious young woman, but I’m not that woman,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I never knew when I met you what my life would be—secret cabals and vampire maniacs, werewolves and incubi, zombies and mad scientists.”

“And amazing sex,” Oswald said, and touched my hand. “We had a wild ride, didn’t we, babe?”

“It was astonishing,” I said. “Thank you, Oswald, for everything—for all the incredible memories.”

“If we could go back in time …”

“But we can’t,” I said.

One side of his mouth went up in the crooked smile that I would always love. “If we could, I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat, because I wouldn’t have missed any of it—I wouldn’t have missed
you
, Milagro, for anything in the world.”

“Someday, Oz, we’ll be the best of friends.”

“Sure we will, babe.”

When Oswald kissed my cheek, I took in the scent of his
herby sunblock, and I felt an ache deep within me, such grief. Because it’s painful to see something die—a beloved grandmother, a favorite pet, a kind friend, life changing a passion for a fabulous man.

Oswald and I gazed into each other’s eyes, and I thought he must feel the same bittersweet pang.

And then I turned back to my guests.

There was dinner and toasts, and after that Ian and I had our first dance as a married couple to a romantic bolero. I said into his ear, “Do you remember the first time we danced together?”

“Vividly,” he answered. “You moved like a dream. A sweaty, lusty wet dream.”

“I thought we danced
too
well together.”

“Is there no pleasing you? I shall try to rise to the challenge.”

“Not in front of the guests, Ian.”

“If you insist.”

“Where’s Ilena?”

“She decided not to come.”

“I can’t say that I’m upset. But thank you for letting me invite Oswald.”

“The sooner he marries Lily Harrison, the more comfortable I’ll be,” Ian said. “I have a wedding present for you.”

“Is it in your pants?”

“Not in front of the guests, Milagro,” he said in his low, sexy, rumbly voice, and I wished that the guests would all go away so I could be alone with my husband.

Our second band of the night was Pepper’s new rock group. Mercedes’s father joined the biker on bagpipes, and the wall of sound pulsing through me was exactly what I loved about music.

I took off my shoes and danced with my girlfriends, before Ian picked me up and carried me out, while our guests shouted congratulations.

A black Mercedes pulled up, and Mr. K got out and opened the door for us.

“Good evening, sir, ma’am.”

Ian said, “Good evening. Home, please.”

I said, “Mr. K, please tell me that I’m not a ‘ma’am’ already.”

He smiled and said, “As Lord Ducharme has instructed us, you will be exactly who you will be, Milagro.”

“Thank you, Mr. K.”

We got in the backseat, and Mr. K closed the door.

I leaned against Ian. “You didn’t have to carry me out.”

“You would have stayed there all night, and I couldn’t endure sharing you any longer.”

As Mr. K started the car and began driving, I said, “It was the best wedding ever, Ian.”

“We still have the family ceremony in Lviv. My mother has been planning it for years.”

“I’m trying to make that traditional vampire wedding fruitcake, and it looks all kinds of dreadful. Mrs. K promised to help fix it, but it may be unfixable, wrong at the molecular level, as Nancy would say.” I looked out the window. “This isn’t the way to the hotel. Where are we going?”

“Home.”

I sighed. “Did you buy another house without telling me?”

“You won’t set foot in the Modern Tuscan, so I found a place that I hope will be more to your liking,” he said. “It’s down the street from Nancy’s apartment, and you can run back and forth and visit.”

“That will be fantastic! Is that the present you mentioned?”

“No, darling.”

We’d reached Nancy’s tony neighborhood, where Beaux Arts buildings, Victorians, and a few daring moderns had spectacular views to the bay. Mr. K turned into the driveway of a graceful
three-story pewter Edwardian with white trim and a long stairway to the front entrance.

When Mr. K opened the car door, we got out and Ian led me through a black iron gate and up the marble steps. “It’s a bit empty now, because I know you’ll have your own ideas about decorating.”

“So if I want to cover the walls in flocked leopard print, you won’t object?”

“Not in the least.”

Mrs. K opened the front door with a bright smile. “Congratulations! Come in, come in.”

Ian picked me up again and said, “Welcome home, Milagro,” and carried me over the threshold into the foyer.

It was silly, but in the good way. “Thank you. Now let me down so I can see this place.”

I walked into a long living room with French windows looking out to a balcony. The house had been remodeled in a clean, airy way, from the white coffered ceiling to the simple marble fireplace, so that it was neither stuffy nor stark. “Ian, it’s beautiful. Are you sure this isn’t my present?”

“No, come along.” He took my hand and led me down the hall past a dining room, closed doors, and to the kitchen with its gleaming new appliances and hardwood floor. “I’ll leave it to you to decide where we put the mirror ball.”

“Is this an appliance-related gift?” I said. “Because, if so, it should match my chartreuse Margaritanator 3000.”

“It’s not an appliance.”

“Is it the yard?”

“No, but the yard does need a great deal of care. Perhaps you can recommend a garden designer.” Ian opened a back door and the first thing I saw was a laundry room. The second thing I saw was a small fuzzy thing coming at us with an abundance of wiggling and tail wagging.

I bent over and picked the puppy up. Her amber eyes gleamed and she squirmed and began licking my face. I loved her right away.

“Is she a clone?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t presume to dabble with God’s work. She’s just a rescue dog who reminded me of your dog, Daisy.”

“She’s wonderful. I love her.” I looked into the puppy’s face. “I think you’ll be Sweet Pea, because that means bliss and that’s what I feel.”

With a puppy in the house, there would be whining. But no matter how much I wheedled, Ian refused to let the dog sleep in our bedroom on our wedding night.

Mrs. K heard us from the kitchen and said, “Pardon, but I’m fond of the little thing and she can stay in her bed in our parlor. I’ll hear her if she’s lonely.”

“Thank you,” I said, and handed her the puppy.

“Good night, Mrs. K.” Ian put his arm around my waist and led me back down the hall.

“I have made one alteration to the house.” He stopped at the staircase. “I’ve had the master suite soundproofed.”

“Excellent. Now Mr. and Mrs. K won’t come running when I make you beg for mercy tonight.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” he said with a wicked grin. “I think it’s time we went to bed, my own girl.”

“Ian?”

“Yes?”

“All this lavishness is fab, but I didn’t marry you for your money or because you have a title.”

“I know exactly what you want from me. It’s in my pants.” With that he hauled me over his shoulder and ran up the stairs while I laughed.

Ian carried me into a sumptuous ivory and moss green bedroom
and lay me on the bed. Candles in silver candlesticks flickered their warm light, a bottle of champagne rested in a wine cooler, and there were vases of antique roses in creamy shades.

Ian gazed at me and said, “I thought I might never have you and now that I do, I’ll never let you go.”

“‘Thus though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run,’” I quoted. “Kiss me, Ian.”

The next day, we took a flight to the Caribbean, and then we were taken by sloop through azure waters to a tiny green island that had been abandoned by terrified and superstitious tourists over a century before. Ian held the legal title only to protect the true owners, a tribe with a name that could only be sounded with whistles.

Wil and Nettie greeted us at the pier. He was wearing board shorts and a guayabera open on his chest, a white stripe of sunblock on his nose, and sunglasses. “Welcome, welcome, Milagro and Lord Ducharme!”