Keep Me (Beggar's Choice #3) (33 page)

“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice catching slightly.

His eyes widen in alarm. “Of course it is,” he says
fiercely. “Why wouldn’t it be?” I shrug and his gaze sharpens and something
that looks like trepidation passes his face. “It
is
okay isn’t it?” he
asks and I nod.

“I’m good babe but you looked worried and you weren’t in bed
when I woke up.”

He shakes his head. “Couldn’t sleep baby so I got up.
Nothing more than that,” and he turns a bland face to me. “Come on let’s order
some breakfast.”

This sunny façade carries on all the way through breakfast
and when we get off the train, right through the flight to Cannes, but he can’t
fool me. I know him too well and I know that he’s worried about something
because I recognise the signs. His eyes are tight, he’s fidgety and can’t stop
tapping his fingers and there’s a perceptible tremor running through his body
like electricity. However, I also know that it’s no good pushing him because
he’s as stubborn as a donkey and won’t do or say anything when he isn’t ready
to.

I therefore bide my time talking animatedly about anything
and everything and absorbing his absentminded replies. Meanwhile the anxiety
builds in me. I both need to and don’t want to know what the problem is because
it’s like a black cloud hovering over my very fragile happiness. The only thing
that consoles me is the way that he hasn’t let go of me once. He held my hand
all through the flight, and now he’s got me pulled tightly into his side, his
hand running through my hair as we’re driven to the villa.

I lean forward in the car looking out of the window. “Where
are we going?” I ask, trying to break the silence that’s fallen while I was
thinking.

He looks startled for a second and then clears his throat.
“A villa in Cap d’Antibes. I borrowed it from a mate for a couple of weeks.”

“And then what?” My eyes narrow as he flinches but he covers
it quickly.

“Then I have to be back in London. We’ve started a new
manager and we need to record the video for the new single.”

“What happened to Bill?” I ask, startled but not displeased
because the man is an absolute prick.

He shrugs. “Sid fucked him off. He meddled in something
between him and Nell and it was the last straw.”

“I haven’t asked you about that situation. What’s happening
between the two of them?”

I’m expecting a lively recap because well, because it’s
Bram, so I’m amazed when he makes a slashing gesture with his hand. “Alys I
don’t want to talk about them,” he says sharply.

I draw back hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that there
were subjects I couldn’t talk about.”

He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face. “No I’m
sorry, and there isn’t anything that I won’t talk to you about. I have no
secrets from you. It’s just …”

“Just what?” I ask as he falters.

“It’s just that I need to talk about us and I’ve no room for
anyone else. I’m sorry that I’m making you wait but I just want to get us
somewhere quiet and private before we speak.”

I shudder. That doesn’t sound good but before I can query it
the car slows and we pull through some tall gates and drive down a long,
gravelled drive laden with bougainvillea, the pink an almost psychedelic colour
against the blue of the sky. We pull up to the forecourt and Bram leaps out to
come round to let me out, shaking the driver’s hand and tipping him handsomely.
The driver and he unload the bags and then the car accelerates away leaving us
in a silence broken only by the noise of the cicadas.

Finally he stirs, leading me up the steps and letting us
into a shady hallway. “Bram,” I say hesitantly. “You’re scaring me.”

He jerks and pulls me to him. “God no sweetheart, there’s
nothing for you to worry about.”

“Nothing for
me
to worry about, but what about you?”

He kisses my forehead hard, inhaling the scent of me. “I
promise that there’s nothing to worry about. Now how about we shower and get
changed?”

“And then we’ll talk?”

He flinches looking almost pale, but nods. “Then we talk.”

He shoulders the bags and nudges me up the stairs showing me
into a massive room where floor to ceiling windows look out onto a turquoise
swimming pool and flowered gardens. He follows me in and puts my cases on the
bed. “Shower
a chroí.
I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re done.”

“But aren’t we showering together?” I murmur but he’s gone.
I stand there for a few seconds staring into space, but then remembering that
we are going to talk I’m galvanised and dash into the bathroom which boasts a
huge shower with powerful jets. I shower quickly, plait my hair loosely and
throw on a pretty pink, off the shoulder, thigh length sundress. Then I wander
down the stairs looking for him.

It’s a big villa but I find him fairly quickly, standing in
the lounge at the doors which have been folded back letting in a sweet scent of
lavender. He’s obviously showered somewhere else because his hair is wet and
he’s wearing shorts and a white polo shirt.

“Bram,” I say and he jerks before turning to me running his
hand nervously over his hair. “What is the matter?” I ask sharply. “Is it us?
Are you having second thoughts about being with me?”

He pales. “Fucking hell, no never Alys.” He pauses. “I’ve
got something to show you,” he finally says jerkily. He sounds resolute but
more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

He rubs his nose. “Well I don’t want you to get the wrong
idea but I’m going to have to pull my shorts down to show you.”

I’m flabbergasted and then a thought occurs to me. “Oh my
God Bram it’s not your dick is it because only in pornos would that be
considered romantic?”

He flushes. “Shut the fuck up and humour me.”

I roll my eyes. “Well okay but the first sign of a money
shot and I’m out of here.”

Coming closer he flicks open the button on his shorts and
then slowly draws the zipper down, the metallic buzz the only sound to fill the
suddenly tense silence, and I swallow hard as his long fingers pull the
material apart. He looks up, his hazel eyes a deep sludgy green, dark with some
emotion. “Come and see,” he says huskily and as if I’m a puppet and he has a
hand on my strings I rise to my feet and as I come closer he pulls the shorts
down so they sit just under his arse revealing the fact that he isn’t wearing
any underwear. He motions for me to look at his groin.

Shooting him a wry look I bend down. Distantly I notice the
markings of a tattoo sitting low on his groin just above the neat strip of
hair. I’ve noticed it before but I’ve never actually been able to see what it
is because every time that he’s seen me looking at it he’s covered it with his
fingers or distracted me. I’d dismissed it as embarrassment because it probably
says something stupid like ‘This Way Up’. However, my attention is elsewhere
because it’s fixed on the golden skinned, thick root of his cock shining in the
late evening sunlight. Come to think about it that’s probably why I’ve never
seen the tattoo properly.

He clears his throat suddenly making me jump and I become
shamefully aware that I was just gawping at his cock. I look up to find his
face full of a wry, rough tenderness. “The tattoo
a mhuirnín,
” he
prompts. “I’m pretty sure that you’re supposed to read the words before you look
at the picture.” He gestures to his penis and I can’t help but laugh but it
dies abruptly when I see the tattoo finally and realise what it says.

Running low on his groin are a set of symbols flowing in a
beautiful hand, and before I know what I’m doing I run my fingers along them
feeling the prominent vein that runs down his lower abdomen and into his groin.
All his muscles lock up and he breathes in harshly. I stare up at him open
mouthed until he shifts, looking nervous and uncomfortable.

“You know what it says?” he asks in a low, hoarse voice

I nod unable to speak for a second and he fills the silence
talking nervously. “It says ‘I want more’.” He swallows hard and then seems to
gather his courage. He looks at me almost shyly. “I do want more Alys. I
need
more.”

“With me?” I whisper, and he huffs chidingly.

“Yes, only with you. Only ever with you. I got it done in
Amsterdam when I realised that I was in love with you.”

I gasp, staring at him wildly. “You’re
in
love
with me?”

All nerves gone now he looks at me resolutely and nods
firmly. “I am. I love you so much.” He pauses, maybe waiting for a response,
but I’m struck dumb. I knew that he felt something but I never dared hope for
love. He carries on jerkily. “I realise that I’m not exactly a good bet. I’ve
slept my way through most of the western hemisphere. I’ve led a feckless,
reckless lifestyle only pleasing myself for too long. But I love you Alys with
everything that I am. I love your humour, your bolshiness, your independence,
your laugh and your gorgeous face, but most of all I love you because you’re
the first person that I’ve ever met who I know my love is safe with.”

His voice falters slightly and he closes his eyes, opening
them again with a determined stare. “Tell me what I have to do to get you to
love me. I’ll do anything Alys, anything. I just need you to love me back. I
need your love because everything else is bright colours and top speeds. With
you it’s like the world slows down and everything becomes clear. With you it’s
warm and steady and safe, yet paradoxically more exciting than anything I’ve
ever done.”

I stare at him seeing him clearly. I think for Bram I’m like
the eye of the storm, while to me he’s the full cyclone, wild and exhilarating
and free. I smile at him loving him so much that I ache, and the smile feels
big and blinding enough to me to understand why he closes his eyes.

“Tell me,” he groans.

“I love you too Bram. You’re it for me with all that you
are. Your inappropriate comments, your inability to keep quiet, the way that
you snore and hog the bed.”

He sneers at me but can’t quite hide the sheen in his eyes.
“You do realise that they’re all shortcomings don’t you?”

I smile wateringly. “Even your faults appeal to me. I’m
obviously doomed because I love them as much as I love your kindness, your
loyalty, your humour and the way that you look at people and at me like you
really see them.” I shrug. “I love you.”

Then I’m in his arms and he’s pressing kisses to any area on
my face that he can reach before taking my mouth with a deep groan. We kiss for
ages pressing closer and closer, hands roaming and choked sighs filling the
air.

Eventually he pulls away, his face flushed and his pupils
blown. “Fuck Alys, I love you,” he says fervently. “I swear to God that you
won’t regret this. I’ll love you until the day I die. There’ll never be anyone
else for me.”

I smile at him. “I know that I won’t regret it
a
chéadsearc.
You’re everything that I’ve ever wanted.”

He presses his face into my neck as if overcome and silence
falls for a second. However, when he raises his head his composure and smirk
are back. “Be honest it was the tattoo that got you wasn’t it?” I laugh and he
crows. “I fucking
knew
it. I told Seth that he doesn’t know everything
about romance. I said to him ‘you could learn from me because my girl will
fucking love it’. I tell you Alys, I’m a fucking genius putting British Sign
Language symbols over my cock. You should probably count yourself lucky because
I don’t think there’s a woman alive that could say that this has happened to
her.”

I laugh so hard that my ribs hurt. “That’s probably true and
I don’t know how to tell you this, but that’s not exactly British Sign
Language.”

“
What
?”

“It’s Makaton sign language babe. It’s mainly used with
children and basic beginners.”

“Do you mean to say that I have children’s sign language
over my cock?” he asks in a deadly voice.

“Only you.” I laugh helplessly until finally he joins me and
we curl together hugging and laughing.

“British Sign Language or Makaton,” he finally whispers in
my good ear. “It’s still the same. I want more with you. I want everything that
you can give me - loads of children, us arguing and bickering until you get
that look of rage that turns me the fuck on. Then I want us talking and making
love at night snuggled together in our bed, just the two of us. Can you give me
that?”

I look at him letting him see my resolution because I think
a small part of him will always be waiting for me to give up and he’ll always
need this assurance.

“I’ll give you all that,” I promise, and I did.

1
Year Later

Alys

I usher the girls out and then lean against the door for a
second savouring the peace. Today is my wedding day and as much as I love them I
just need a moment’s peace to gather my thoughts before I walk down the aisle
to the rest of my life. Not that I’m having doubts, far from it. This last year
with Bram has been the best of my life.

I hadn’t moved back in with him straightaway when we’d got
back from France much to his disgust. Instead I’d stayed at Elen’s house where
she had watched with astonishment and no hidden amusement as the playboy of the
western world settled himself down to woo me. She’d laughed once as she’d
debated the fact that even in this area Bram had to be different. He’d sent
flowers, but they’d accompanied parcels of risqué underwear, most of it crotch
less. He’d taken me out to dinner as standard, but I would return home to gifts
laid by my bed varying from anal beads to a feather and a blindfold. He’d taken
me out to the theatre and wined and dined me, but then he’d taken me home, tied
me up and fucked me senseless.

However, his wooing had been interrupted by Nell having a
bad car accident, and he’d begged me to go with him to America. We’d spent a
month there in Bram’s apartment in LA, and then once she was safe we’d come
home and almost challengingly he’d taken us straight to his flat, unpacked my
stuff by throwing it around his bedroom, and then thrown me on the bed and
himself on top of me. I’d never moved out.

So here I am now in Ireland waiting to get married. We’re at
a beautiful castle situated in miles of lush, green countryside. Its wild
grounds are home to a perfect little jewel of a chapel where we’re due to exchange
our vows in a couple of hours in front of our friends.

We’ve been staying here for the last three days making a
real week of it drinking and eating, and up until last night I’d slept with
Bram, but last night his mum had turfed him out saying that it was bad luck and
he’d truculently conceded and gone to stay in Sid’s suite. I know that it’s
custom but the bed had been cold and empty without him next to me. I even
missed his fidgeting.

I sigh and tighten the tie on my dressing gown which is a
chocolate brown and cream kimono that Bram had brought back from Japan for me
last week, and then I wander over to the table where the remains of our
breakfast are spread. Looking up I still at the sight of my dress hanging from
its wooden hanger from the wardrobe door.

It’s stunningly beautiful and as soon as I’d stepped into it
I’d known it was the one, almost the way I’d felt when I met Bram for the first
time. It’s an Oscar de la Renta design which I’d gone for out of sentimentality
and because it’s utterly beautiful. It’s white and strapless, floor length, and
the skirt is white with a see through overskirt that has flowers and leaves
embroidered all over it. I’m wearing it with a pair of the most girly, sparkly,
white Christian Louboutin platform shoes, but I’m keeping my hair simple – no
veil and just my hair pulled back in a loose, low bun with a flower tucked into
it. I know Bram will love it but potentially he’ll love what’s underneath it
more.

Thinking of him I pick up a bit of almond croissant and pop
it into my mouth. I needed this peace but what I need more than anything really
is him. I know it’s bad luck but I really want to see him now before all of the
chaos starts so that we can be together like the quiet before the storm.

Living with him has been a revelation to me. Looking at him
in the past from the outside you would have thought that when he settled down
he would have been an independent lover who valued time away from his partner,
and someone that treated everything lightly. However, that couldn’t be further
from the truth because he’s fiercely committed to us and making sure that our
relationship works. We’re a real team and just as I love and take care of him,
he’s my staunchest supporter and biggest cheerleader.

He’d announced that we’d be based in London for the next few
years because he wanted me to enjoy my new job as a staff nurse at Great Ormond
Street without disruptions. He’d also asked that we never be apart for more
than a couple of weeks at the most, and when he is away I don’t worry because I
know that I’m always in his thoughts because he lets me know that. He’s my best
friend and I’m his.

I hear a sudden scrape on the balcony outside my room and
whirl around raising a hand to my mouth, and then I gasp out a laugh as the
person that I want to see most is in the middle of climbing over from his
balcony next door.

“What are you doing Romeo?” I hiss, rushing over to grab his
arm and haul him away from impending death on the cobbles below. He shoots me
that familiar lopsided grin that makes his eyes warm all the way through.

“I had to see you,” he hisses.

“Does Maud know?”

At the mention of his mum he whirls around. “Fuck no, is she
in here?”

“No.” I smile, drawing him into the room and then going
thankfully into the arms that he holds open to me. I sigh thankfully as his
heat and strength surround me. He always feels like home to me. I feel his
smile against my hair and then he grunts happily under his breath as he bands
me tightly to him.

“Fucking missed this,” he finally says, raising his head and
smiling down at me.

I don’t think that I’ll ever truly get used to how beautiful
he is but at the risk of keeping his head a normal size I do try to conceal it,
but not today. Today, I have stars in my eyes and he knows it judging by his
smirk.

“I’m marrying you today,” he says happily, examining my face
and pushing his hand through my loose hair watching it trail down my back.

“I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why? Were you thinking of ditching me at the altar?” he
murmurs tongue in cheek.

I laugh. “Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.” However,
at the mention of the wedding I jerk and push him behind one of the floor
length velvet curtains.

“What the fuck?” comes his muffled voice.

“Stay there,” I hiss urgently.

“Why, is it my mother?”

“No, my dress is out and you can’t see it.”

“Alys,” he sighs. “I’m seeing
you
. What does it
matter if I see the dress?”

“It matters,” I call, grabbing my beautiful gown and hanging
it up in the bathroom and then shutting the door thankfully. “I just want you
to be amazed and dumbstruck when you see me coming down the aisle.”

He pokes his ruffled head around the curtain, his expression
soft with love as it often is. “Alys love I always feel like that when I see
you, didn’t you know?” I shake my head and he grabs me hauling me back to him.
However, his hands catch on my hips and a look of stunned gratification crosses
his face.

“Oh no,” I protest, trying to pull away but he hauls me back
a smirk crossing his face.

“That feels firm and stiff like lace,” he murmurs, his busy
hands working at the tie on my robe. I try to bat them away but to no avail as
the robe parts open and he hisses in a breath. “Fuck,” he groans. “How am I
supposed to get through the ceremony knowing that this is under your dress? Do
you
want
me to pop a stiffy at the altar?”

“Bram, you’re not supposed to see this.”

“Not see it,” he huffs indignantly. “It’s burnt on my
motherfucking retinas.”

He pulls the robe from my shoulders leaving me clad in just
a white corset, transparent white skimpy panties, sheer white hold ups and a
sapphire blue garter. “Fuck it’s like the Victoria’s Secret catalogue, only
better.”

“Why better? What is better than
that?”

“You,” he says simply. “You know that I don’t see anyone
else.”

That’s true and something that I never thought I’d see, but
he honestly never looks at other women. The former man whore is still warm,
engaging and flirty but there’s absolutely no heat in it until he looks at me.
Viv once laughed about it after watching him completely ignore an extremely beautiful
model’s overtures. As she put it Bram has sampled every female delicacy on the
planet, sometimes more than once, but once he’d met me he’d realised the
difference between sex and love. Anything else to him is like muesli - boring
and unnecessary.

I’m brought back to the present when he pulls his t-shirt
over his head and gets naked in seconds by dropping his jeans.

“Oh my God,” I snort. “If speedy stripping was an Olympic
event you’d be going for gold I swear.”

He sneers. “Babe I’m a rock star, it’s practically a CV
requirement. Now fucking get here. I need to fuck you in that get up rather
more than I want to breathe.”

“Bram it’s bad luck.” This is a token protest and his smirk
tells me that he knows just how token it is.

“Seeing you is bad luck. Fucking you is not mentioned in any
old wives tale.”

“That’s a technicality.” My protest is dimmed by the moan
that I give out when he draws me against him and I feel his warm skin against
mine.

“You were saying,” he groans, dipping his head and licking
across the top of the lace on my breasts while both hands grab my cheeks
through the sheer panties and pull me against his hard cock. I try to say
something smart but he moans and takes my mouth licking into me with a
satisfied murmur, and I lose my head, winding my hands around his neck and
letting him take me down to the bed.

An hour later I raise my head from under the sheets and take
a look at the clock and let out a shriek. “Fuck!”

“What?” he grumbles, burrowing back under the covers and
against me like a sexy, ruffled mole.

“I’ve got to shower again, do my hair and get my make up on.
We get married in an hour.”

“Calm down. You’re getting married to the man who is
currently in your bed and who is now also late. There can’t be a wedding if
neither the bride nor the groom is there to get married. That would make the
guests just early and rude.”

“That makes no sense at all.”

“It does to me, and as I’m the one getting married and
therefore the reason for this whole shindig, everyone ought to accommodate me
in doing what I want, and that’s what I just did. I did you which was what I
wanted.”

I laugh looking down into his sleepy face and rumpled hair
and adoring him. “God, I love you so much,” I say quietly.

He smiles up at me, that true, sunshine smile that I only
ever see when he looks at me, and then signs that he loves me too. “So much,”
he adds clearly. “And Alys,” he grabs my hand and pulls me back on top of him.
“
This
,” he gestures between us. “This could never in a million years
ever be considered bad luck. Now I’m getting up. You’re going to get ready, and
then you’re going to skedaddle that gorgeous arse down to the chapel and make
me the happiest man on earth.”

I smile with tears in my eyes and watch him scoop up his
clothes before I shriek and run to the balcony in time to see him, completely
starkers, hopping over the balcony and into the next room to a giant chorus of
manly roaring and a very feminine shriek.

“Fucking hell Ma, what are you doing in here?” I hear him
shout and then I collapse in giggles.

Bram

I look in the tarnished old mirror of the church waiting
room checking my appearance, and then sigh as my mother pushes me back and then
goes to town on the tie that I’ve just fucking knotted perfectly. I sigh. “Ma
please, it looks fine.”

She looks up at me and I idly wonder when it happened that I
got so tall or she got so small. All my life I’ve stood in awe of her. I admire
her fierceness, her love and her drive to overcome being a widow with a small
son at such a young age. It was her sheer certainty that
her
son wasn’t
going to end up being a wastrel or a criminal or both that impacted my life so
much. I may have lived away from her for a long time, but there wasn’t a day
went by without her ringing me or writing long letters, and I’d always felt her
fierce uncompromising love for me. It had taken me years to acknowledge that
I’d felt abandoned, but I’d never doubted her love for me and I still don’t.

Her voice brings me out of my thoughts. “Bram child please
watch your language. We’re in church.”

“A chapel,” I correct automatically. “And Ma with the amount
of money that I paid for Father Reilly to officiate at this chapel I actually
think that I might now own the building.” I pause. “Actually I think I might
own the Catholic Church.”

She huffs and smacks me as I start laughing at the thought
of being Father Reilly’s boss. Then her face softens as I straighten. She runs
her hand over my shirt and straightens the lapels of my dark grey, three piece
suit. “Such a handsome boy,” she says softly. “You look more like your dad than
ever as you grow up.”

“Do I?”

“Yes you’ve seen the photos.” I have but I don’t equate
those faded photos of them in 70’s clothes as being like me. I don’t think any
child really does. She carries on, “He’d be so proud of you. I know that I am.”

“You are?” I can hear the faint need in my voice, that ever
present need to make her proud in order to mend her opinion of me that I’d
broken in my teens.

She looks surprised. “I tell you often enough don’t I?”

I shrug. She does but I usually take it with a pinch of salt
as something all mothers have to say from time to time.

She stares at me intently and then gives me that lopsided
grin that I see in the mirror every day. “Oh Bram I’m so proud of you. Not just
the career and the big houses and the money. They’re good for you but what I’m
proud of is in here.” She taps my chest. “I’m proud of you for the man that
you’ve become. This strong, kind, loyal man whose friends love him like family.
This funny, warm man who people want to be with because they come away feeling
like they mean something. That’s the man I wanted you to become when I held you
in my arms for the first time.” She pauses and something settles inside me for
the first time since I set foot on British soil all those years ago, a scared,
belligerent thirteen year old. She smiles sadly and runs her hand through my
hair and taps my cheek gently the way that she did when I was a child and she
was trying to get me to keep still and ready for school. “I wish that I’d seen
all of it,” she murmurs. “I missed so much trying to do the right thing.”