Chapter 28
One month later
Nick holds the bronze urn over the side of the Icarus and carefully pours his father’s ashes onto the crystalline water.
There are no words of soft regard offered for William Baine, no tears shed as the ocean embraces the dark gray cloud of his cremains and draws it under. This ceremony is solemn and private. Just Nick and me and the warmth of a brilliant sunrise that paints the sky in pastel shades of pink and peach and lavender.
It is a far different affair than the other funeral we attended a few weeks ago.
Unlike Nick’s father, Kathryn Tremont exited her world on her own terms—the same way she lived it. Only days after we returned to New York, Kathryn’s nurse had called to let us know that she had ended her own life while she was at her house in the Hamptons.
Her memorial had been an event, of course. Kathryn wouldn’t have had it any other way. I wasn’t surprised to learn that in absence of any heirs, her fortune and her estate had gone to the handful of her favorite charities and art museums.
But there was a special provision that had come as a shock to Nick and me.
An incredibly generous gift that we will be used to seed a brand-new non-profit venture for the construction of youth recreation centers all over the country. Andrew Beckham has already drawn up the paperwork.
But before Nick’s vision goes national, he and I will be overseeing the design of a more personal project—a small oceanfront resort and sailing school for abused kids. We’ll be breaking ground next year on a particular plot of land on Key Largo.
When we boarded the Icarus this morning, Nick told me that as far as he was concerned, that’s his only pressing obligation on the mainland. Everything else can either be handled by his teams or wait for our return.
I can’t help the contentment—and desire—that overcomes me as I watch him move across the deck of the beautiful sailboat. It’s always like this for me when I look at him. I’m sure it always will be.
“What will we do for almost a year at sea together?” I ask him once he’s put the urn away and comes back to me at the wheel.
He draws me into the circle of his arms. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“Does that mean you have ideas?”
“Baby, I’ve got hundreds of them.” His mouth quirks before he kisses me.
It’s so easy to lose myself in the bliss of his lips on mine, his arms wrapped protectively, possessively, around me. I want to kiss him uninterrupted for days, and I can hardly contain my excitement over the fact that I can start enjoying that privilege now.
Waves roll beneath us and I groan in protest when Nick’s mouth leaves mine.
“Hands on the wheel,” he commands me in a low purr. “We should set our course.”
I oblige him, pivoting around to take the helm with him standing at my back. “Where to, Captain Baine?”
He points over my shoulder toward the empty horizon. “We have several choices. Bermuda up there. The Bahamas and the rest of the Caribbean down that way. Or we could just go wherever the wind and the waves carry us. It’s up to you.”
“Anywhere at all?” I ask him, mulling over the possibilities. “And you trust me at the wheel of your baby?”
His lips press against the sensitive curve of my neck and shoulder. “I trust you with more than that, angel. I trust you with my heart.”
I smile, leaning into the warmth of his body at my back. “So does that mean I’m officially your first mate now?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d officially be my wife.”
I freeze. Disbelief—and overwhelming elation—rocket through me as I let go of the wheel and turn around to face him. “What?”
“I love you, Avery. I don’t ever want to know a day without you at my side.”
He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a platinum engagement ring bearing a large diamond that glitters like a piece of heaven.
A stunned laugh bubbles out of me. “You came prepared?”
His smile seems shy, almost apologetic. “I was going to wait until we were somewhere romantic and tropical. I wanted it to be perfect for you, so I’ve been trying to think of the right words to say when I gave this ring to you.”
I shake my head as I watch him slip the gorgeous ring onto my finger. My heart is soaring, my love for him spilling over in a rush of happy tears. “You already said the perfect thing. You said you love me.”
“Yes, I do. I’m going to love you forever, Avery.”
“Good,” I tell him, twining my arms around his neck. “Because forever is only the start of how long I’m going to love you.”
* * * * *
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100 Series
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Midnight Breed Series
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Claimed in Shadows (Fall TBA)
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Masters of Seduction Series
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Historical Romances
Dragon Chalice Series
Warrior Trilogy
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About the Author
LARA ADRIAN is a New York Times and #1 internationally best-selling author, with nearly 4 million books in print worldwide and translations licensed to more than 20 countries. Her books regularly appear in the top spots of all the major bestseller lists including the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Indiebound, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, etc. Reviewers have called Lara’s books “addictively readable” (Chicago Tribune), “extraordinary” (Fresh Fiction), and “one of the best on the market” (Romantic Times).
Writing as TINA ST. JOHN, her historical romances have won numerous awards including the National Readers Choice; Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice; Booksellers Best; and many others. She was twice named a Finalist in Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards, for Best Historical Romance (White Lion’s Lady) and Best Paranormal Romance (Heart of the Hunter). More recently, the German translation of Heart of the Hunter debuted on Der Spiegel bestseller list.
With an ancestry stretching back to the Mayflower and the court of King Henry VIII, the author lives with her husband in New England.
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COPYRIGHT
For 100 Reasons
© 2017 by Lara Adrian, LLC
Cover design © 2016 by CrocoDesigns
eBook ISBN: 978-1-939193-15-5
Print ISBN: 978-1-939193-16-2
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Author.
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