Chapter Seven
Three months later…
Mason held Elliot’s hand as they walked down a pretty garden path toward a picturesque cottage set against a backdrop of beautiful countryside. She was nervous, in a very different way than she usually was when Mason led her down an unknown path. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled down at her.
She was wearing a yellow sundress with a small petticoat beneath it, which made the skirt flare out and also hid all traces of the plug that filled her bottom. Around her neck, she wore his collar, the gold gleaming in the sunlight.
They reached the aged oak door and paused for a moment.
“Ready?” Mason murmured softly.
“Ready,” Elliot nodded. Their journey together had been a long one, and she was not entirely sure she was prepared for what lay behind the door. It was, in some sense, the culmination of their entire tale. That was why her stomach felt as though it was filled with butterflies, and why she gripped Mason’s hand a little tighter as he lifted his other hand and knocked.
No sooner had his fingers touched wood than it was thrown open and they were greeted by the one person Elliot most wished to impress in the world—his mother.
“Ellie!” Her arms wrapped around Elliot’s shoulders. “Welcome, oh, my dear, I can’t believe it has taken this long for Mav to bring you on a visit!”
Mason’s mother was a naturally graceful woman. She had stunning green eyes, just like Mason. Unlike Mason, she had a beautiful mane of golden hair. It was beginning to gray now, but she was still a very handsome woman, and now, thanks to her son, a very wealthy one.
It was a genuine pleasure to see her again. Elliot had met her a few times throughout her younger years, usually when Aiden dragged her along to what had practically been the shack they’d lived in then. She now realized in hindsight that it had been a perfectly respectable little cottage, but as a snotty teenager it had been so far beneath her she had whined and complained and begged to leave as quickly as possible—until Mrs. Malone brought out her homemade cookies and lemonade.
“Hello, Mrs. Malone,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“It’s so nice to see you, Ellie,” Mrs. Malone said. “Look at you, you’re gorgeous. Mason, isn’t she gorgeous!”
“Yes, she is,” Mason agreed with a proud smile.
“Come and sit,” Mrs. Malone said, unintentionally sounding a bit like Mason when he gave her a very different kind of command. “I can’t wait to hear how you’ve been, Ellie.”
“I’ve been well,” Elliot said, opting for the polite and proper answer. She very much doubted Mrs. Malone wanted to hear anything about the events of the last few weeks.
They moved through to the sun-drenched lounge of the cottage and sat on comfortably stuffed sofas covered in doilies. Elliot wondered if she would one day reach an age where doilies suddenly seemed like a good idea. Some of them were rather pretty…
“I was so surprised when Mason told me he was bringing you to tea,” Mrs. Malone beamed. “Such a wonderful surprise. You two have such a history.”
“It’s been nice… uhm… reconnecting with Mason,” Elliot murmured, looking over at Mason with a quizzical brow rise. Surely it was time to tell?
“We’ve done a little more than reconnect,” Mason said, putting his hand over hers. “Mom, Elliot and I are going to be married.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Malone flew from her seat and hugged them both effusively. “Oh I’m so happy for you both.”
Elliot smiled, tears filling her eyes. When she’d announced her previous engagement, her mother had launched into venue preparations without so much as a congratulation, and Eric’s parents hadn’t even bothered to visit. This felt entirely different. This felt right. For the first time in her life, she was feeling the simple love of family, and it filled her completely.
They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting, drinking tea, eating scones with lashings of cream and jam, and generally enjoying one another’s company. Mrs. Malone dug out the photo albums she’d carefully curated over the years, and to Elliot’s surprise, she was actually in some of the pictures, usually in the background, hanging out with her brother.
Mrs. Malone stopped at one particular image. Mason and Aiden must have been nineteen or twenty, playing football, and there she was, an awkward-looking teenager with braces, not so skillfully hiding behind one of the posts, attempting to look disinterested as she stared at Mason.
“Look at you,” Mrs. Malone said. “You followed them around like a puppy dog, you know.”
Elliot blushed. She’d forced herself to forget those earlier memories, when Mason and Aiden had seemed utterly invincible, her two perfect protectors. The thought made her eyes mist with tears when she thought of how far Aiden had fallen since then. Would he ever overcome his addiction? Would he ever be happy?
Mason caught her mood and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s going to be alright,” he murmured. “He’s going to get better.”
She nodded quickly, hoping that was true. In the months since Aiden had gone overseas, they’d heard very little from him. His protectors sent regular reports confirming that he was well, but she missed her brother. Mason kept her busy, and distracted, always coming up with some innovative way to remind her that she was his—his to have, to hold, and to own.
The plug squirmed in her bottom as she moved position. She’d begged him not to have her wear it, but it had actually become somewhat comforting. Whenever she was nervous, or inclined to forget her new place beside him, the full feeling in her bottom was a reminder that both settled her and kept her out of trouble.
She snuggled up to Mason, rewarded by the calming touch of his firm hand. As long as she had him, it was going to be okay.