Le Manoir was set in a fifteenth century old manor house with its own extensive grounds close to the center of Oxford. The gorgeously appointed gardens and meticulously maintained manor house had all of Ethan’s closest friends and teachers gasping from the moment they came into view as they arrived for the party Niarchos was throwing to celebrate Ethan’s graduation with First Class Honors.

The wood paneled private dining room, La Belle Époque, bustled with laughter and crystal clinking.

Niarchos ate the delicate Scottish langoustine tartare and observed with a sharp eye the expertly orchestrated service, refilling wine glasses and serving the entrées. Everything was exactly the way he had requested.

Plots and subplots formed in Niarchos’s mind as the evening passed and he observed Ethan and his guests and reviewed his plans to turn his grandson into one of the most important and influential men in the world.

At twenty-three, Ethan was very different from the thin, wide-eyed, depressed teenager that had arrived in Greece. No one would be able to overlook Ethan now.

Niarchos had polished Ethan into a handsome and confident man.

Or so he thought.

* * *

“Grandpa,” Ethan approached Niarchos, who was smoking a cigar in the inner garden.

Niarchos smiled, proud of his grandson, the most special person in his life. “Where is your girlfriend?”

“She has already retired.”

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” Niarchos dragged on his Cuban cigar.

“Yes, everyone was impressed. With the hotel, the gardens. With the superb food.”

“First impressions count, Ethan. Remember that every day.”

Ethan nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers.

“I want to thank you, Grandpa.” There was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. A lingering hurt that still made it difficult for him to thank his grandfather. “For my studies and for this party. Thank you. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Ethan. Everything I own is yours.” Niarchos lounged on the bench with an expression of pleased speculation, puffing a cloud of smoke in the warm air. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Ethan rocked back in his heels. “Yes, I did. The thing is, Grandpa, I’d love to study more. Maybe—”

“My son, there are opportunities that can’t be missed. And this is one of them.” Niarchos looked intently at the burning end of his cigar, the orange flaring in the night. “Aside from excelling in the academic world—which you already have by graduating brilliantly—you have to make your way in the business world.”

Ethan had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going, but waited for his grandfather to get to the point.

“Look, Ethan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasting your time here. You’re my heir, to a multi-million dollar fortune, and you’re very obstinate at everything you put your mind to, so I’m sure you’ll succeed in business. Your bank account has been replenished. I’ve bought you a nice penthouse in Park Lane and there’s a brand new Ferrari waiting for you in the garage.”

He’s bribing me. Ethan sat on the bench beside his grandfather. He looked up at the dark sky that mirrored his sinking mood. Is that the only way to get people to do what we want? Can money buy everything?

Niarchos went on, “I’m an old man and I don’t have many years. I—”

“Don’t say that, Grandpa,” Ethan gasped and his heart clenched at the idea of being alone in the world. Niarchos was his only family, his only friend, the only person he could confide in, despite what had happened. He didn’t need reality slapping him in the face.

Niarchos smiled gently. “Ethan, I love you more than anything in the world. Let me use my last years to make a difference in your life. You can’t waste your precious life hiding behind books and your studies.”

Ethan frowned, confused at those words. “By hiding do you mean that I’m not living my life? I love to study. It’s one of the things that gives me the most pleasure.”

Niarchos shook his head. “This is commendable and beautiful, Ethan. However, to succeed in life you have to be ruthless. Shyness and beguiling ways only incites predators.”

For some reason, that statement rubbed him raw. “Are you saying that by being who I am I provoked what happened in my life?” With Calista? With Eve? I’m no more guilty than you, Grandpa.

Tension rippled between them.

Niarchos glanced at Ethan before putting a soothing hand over his fist. “I could have spoken with more care, but that would not change the heart of the problem, my son.”

So, I have to bend to your will again. Many seconds passed in silence before Ethan unclenched his hands. He drew a long breath, summoning reason back into his mind. Any enjoyment he’d had during dinner had trickled away. “All right, Grandpa. Tell me your plans.” This is the last time, Grandpa. No one is going to order me around again. I’m going to best you so I can do whatever I want.

Niarchos glanced at him, surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. “In life, things are not as we like them to be, but as they should be. With money and power, come enormous responsibilities. Responsibilities with your employees, those who depend on you, with your legacy, and finally, the ones you love. We are not free to do what we want anymore. Each step has to be measured and planned. You have to understand this. I can’t let you waste yourself. Rest assured I’m doing this for your own good, Ethan.”

* * *

Mull of Kintyre played by bagpipers, drums and the orchestra made Alistair’s heart stop beating for a second and rush into a loud gallop.

He stood there, rooted to the ground, having forgotten what he was supposed to do.

“Brother.” In a second, Tavish was beside him, whispering, “Doona you dare faint on us. Come on, breathe.”

Fuck, Alistair Connor. Don’t be missish. He inhaled loudly. “I need a whisky.”

Leonard appeared on Alistair’s other side and waved for a waiter, grabbed a glass of whisky and shoved it in his hand. “Drink, Alistair. Before you pass out like a girl in the middle of your wedding.”

“I hope he does faint. Then I can marry Sophia in his place.” Tavish winked at Leonard.

Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward and drank it all in a gulp, shaking his head as it burned all the way to his stomach.

“You have the rings?” Leonard asked to distract him.

Alistair nodded and patted his sporran as he watched the guests taking their places.

“Do you need to sit?” Tavish’s voice showed his concern.

Aye. “Nae.” Alistair cleared his throat. “There is no need. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah, let’s do this.” Leonard snorted, adjusting the sleeves of his gray single-breasted morning coat.

“It’s a great sacrifice to marry Sophia,” Tavish smirked ironically and pushed Alistair toward Alice at the end of the catwalk. “Take your place.”

Alice, in a dark-green tiffany dress by Marquesa, was stunning. Her long red hair was arranged in a simple ponytail under a scandalous Beetlejuice inspired hat with feathers by Philip Treacy. She complemented the ensemble with a marvelous emerald necklace and matching earrings. “Ready, brother?”

“Aye,” he murmured, determined.

“I don’t think so.” She grinned at him, her face full of mischief, signaling for the pipers to stop and for the orchestra to start their song. “It’s not every day we have Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion singing your favorite romantic song for us.”

Alistair quirked an eyebrow at Alice.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love With You,” she answered his mute question with a smile.

No need to be anxious. This is nothing special. You have been married before. No need to be nervous. Alistair repeated the words in a litany, unexpectedly incapable of controlling his feelings.

Alice put her hand on his offered arm and lightly squeezed as she delicately lead him on a steady and slow walk.

“Slowly. This song is only for you,” she whispered.

My Heart Will Go On brought Lachlann and Angelica, Tavish and Carolina, Edward with Victoria, and Leonard with Valentina, who would later leave with Felipe.

Ariadne and Gabriela, wearing lovely pale-rose organza full-length dresses with white silk sashes on their waists and huge bows on their backs, appeared as soon as Tale As Old As Time began.

Christ! Not that Beast again. Alistair breathed in and out discretely, looking for a distraction from his nerves. He smiled down at a beaming Gabriela, who was throwing white petals she took from a white basket, as she made her way to the altar.

The music stopped.

The guests held their breaths with great anticipation while the enormous double doors of the castle opened slowly when the orchestra played the first chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Alistair’s heart was pounding so fast and hard that it felt like he had a military drum in his chest.

Her head held high, bearing one of his mother’s crowns, Sophia appeared from the dark entrance of the castle on Felipe’s arm.

She wore no veil and carried no bouquet.

As Alistair’s breath caught in his throat, the breath the guests had been holding transformed into murmurs heard all around the chapel.

He squinted his eyes and peered at the congregation only to see that the male guests’ stares were envious.

Then Alistair looked at Victoria, in awe of her talent and smiled. She blew him a kiss, her brows wiggling.

Her slender neck and her shoulders were exposed as her long raven hair was braided and tied up high on her head. She was wearing the magnificent necklace and earrings he had given her that matched her engagement ring.

Her gown was diaphanous, made of the finest and most delicate silver threaded Gauzy Chantilly lace on a very pale-rose background the same shade of her skin. A sheer bodice of silver Gauzy Chantilly lace with fitted long sleeves had tiny embroidered flowers of the same lace. The skirt was made of asymmetrical layers of pale-rose organza, with the same tiny flowers of silver lace scattered over it. It fell to the ground in a soft A shape, and the right amount of flair, floating around as she moved.

My personal ray of sun. For Alistair, in that moment, she was the incarnation of love.

* * *

He loves you. You love him. Sophia chanted the words in her head, but they didn’t lessen her trembling as she descended the stairs and walked down the aisle.

Never in her life had Sophia felt so nervous. She clutched Felipe’s arm and tried to smile a couple of times, but gave up. All she could do was breathe and count her paces to move steadily forward.

The white flower arrangements and the colorfully dressed guests were no more than blurs as she walked by. All she could feel was Alistair’s warm and possessive gaze calling her to him.

Reaching his side, she took a deep breath taking in his masculine scent. Their eyes met and she saw in his the same nervousness and need.

She felt anticipation streak through her and she remembered him quoting Dante when they first met, ‘It’s the spark before the flame’.

“Alistair,” Felipe greeted Alistair and put Sophia’s hand in his, “she is a precious jewel. You take care of her.”

Jesus Christ! How many more are going to tell me this? He noted her ribs expand as she inhaled deeply and raised her eyes to him. His forest-green eyes met her light yellow-diamond ones and locked.

Holding both of her freezing hands in his, he whispered, amazed by the song she had chosen and remarking from it, “You need nothing else but me?”

Her lips trembled in a smile and she nodded.

“So let’s forget the world?” he asked.

She shook her head now with a small smile in her lips.

He quirked an eyebrow and grinned teasingly at her. “Are you going to just nod when Father Bruce asks you to repeat your vows?” He nodded his head. “Like this?”

“Those three words will never be enough,” was her hoarse reply.

“Better.” He stepped closer to her, and his fingers curled around her wrists, bringing them to his chest. “Nervous?”

“Are you?” she asked as she nodded, confirming what everyone could see.

“All I can promise is not to faint,” he sneered.

She grinned then. “God forbid.”

Valentina, Victoria, Felipe, and Edward were chuckling as Alistair and Sophia chatted completely absorbed in each other. The priest looked at the rabbi and cleared his throat.

“I brought two handkerchiefs in case you decided to cry.” He laughed when she opened her hand and showed a frilly lacy handkerchief wrung in her fist.

His smoothed a hand over her lace-covered back, spreading his fingers on the small of her back, and stopping dangerously near her buttocks. “Are you trying to entice the male guests?”

Lachlann coughed, disguising a laugh, and Angelica didn’t even try to conceal hers.

“Only you,” she sighed, stepping closer. Her arm wrapped around his waist. “Was I successful?”

The rabbi cleared his throat louder than the priest did before.

“I don’t have words to describe how stunning you look.” His hand pressed her closer.

She raised her face to his. “Aren’t you disappointed I didn’t choose white?”

“Sophia. You could never disappoint me. Your real beauty resides inside you. Your soul is so pure that it is white,” he declared to her, his face bending.

She rose on her tiptoes. “And you are the most handsome Scottish groom I’ll ever see.”

“Lad! Lass!” Father Bruce shouted.

They were startled and looked up from each other as discreet laughter could be heard around the chapel.

“Sorry, Father,” they said in unison and gazed at each other again, grinning.

The priest mumbled something under his breath and started the service.

* * *

“In the presence of God and these witnesses, I, Alistair Connor Davenport MacCraig, take thee, Sophia, the light of my life, my own sun, to be my wedded wife, from this day forward until my last breath, promising to trust you with all the faith in my spirit, to have you with all the hope in my soul, and to worship you with all the love in my heart.” He grinned at her while he slid the wedding band on her finger, his forest-green eyes holding so much love that Sophia could no longer stop the tears.

“Come on, Wife. Stop crying,” he ordered, his pristine white handkerchief drying her face.

She smiled at him through her tears. “I never promise to obey.”

“I think I can manage your disobedience, Beauty.” He grinned broadly, overjoyed by her blatant happiness. “Keep crying and you’re going to turn from my Beauty into the Beast.”

Oh! “Stop. I can’t concentrate like this,” she retorted.

“Beast!” he whispered.

Sophia tightened her lips, but a strangled giggle bubbled anyhow. “They’ll think we are crazy.”

Alistair chuckled and murmured on her lips, “I am, you know? Crazy about you.”

“Alistair Connor!” The old priest was clearly horrified. “Not yet, you have to wait for her vows.”

“I’m waiting, but she’s just taking too long.” Alistair turned his head to look at the priest who’d known him since he was a child. “Father Bruce, can we hurry things along?”

The priest threw his hands to the sky, shocked, not believing what he had just heard. “Forgive them, Father, they don’t know what they are doing.”

Sophia blushed as she heard the laughter all around her. She looked briefly at Felipe and Gabriela, who were clearly amused by the whole ceremony. Or the lack of it.

That’s enough, Sophia! She took a deep breath and locked her eyes on Alistair’s.

“In the presence of God and before these witnesses, I, Sophia Gonçalves Espírito Santo Leibowitz, give to you, Alistair Connor, my heart, my soul, and all that I am. I promise to be faithful and loyal, to cherish and to love you. I choose you today to be my husband, as I will choose you tomorrow, and every new day for the rest of our lives.” Her hands shook as she put his ring on his finger.

“Now, son,” Father Bruce had a smile in his voice, “you may kiss the bride.”

* * *

Afternoon sunlight poured through the long windows onto the ballroom. Gowns of every hue vied with bright jewels and equally bright eyes. Surrounded by felicitations and congratulations, Sophia moved through the crowd, smiling. She spied Alistair talking to friends in a corner. She headed toward them.

Alistair saw her long before she reached him. The thrill was there, the sudden breathlessness, the ache of longing, the need to give and to take. He wondered if the feeling would ever fade.

“I come to steal my husband away, gentlemen.” She turned to Alistair and smiled. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

“Dessert!” Alistair gave her a wicked smile and gallantly raised Sophia’s hand to his lips, kissing it before putting it on his arm. “Your merest wish is my command.”

Oh. You naughty man. Sophia flashed him a wanton smile as they walked to the center of the ballroom.

“In fact,” he mused, his voice deepening to a purr and his thumb caressing her wrist, “I’m anticipating fulfilling a good number of your wishes before the night is through.”

She laughed. “Keep speaking like this and I’ll blush.”

“Brides are supposed to blush, didn’t anyone tell you?” Alistair’s words feathered her ear as he steered her among the guests. “Besides, you look delightful when you blush.”

People were already crowding around the wedding cake, which had been brought to the middle of the room, a seven tiered celery green cake decorated with handmade white sugar roses and tiny orange blossoms.

With exaggerated formality, Tavish bowed in front of them and presented Alistair a scabbarded claymore almost the same height as Sophia. “Your weapon, Lord Ells.”

“God spare me!” Sophia exclaimed.

The ballroom erupted with laughter and Sophia’s cheeks flamed bright red.

“Now you’re blushing, Wife.” With a devilish smile, Alistair reached for the hilt and with a swift and powerful movement the huge claymore came singing from its sheath.

“Grip the hilt.” He stood behind her, his arms encircling her, and transferred the thick ridged rod to her hands and wrapped his over hers.

Sophia suddenly felt faint with desire. Alistair’s deep chuckle in her ear told her he was feeling likewise.

Together they raised the claymore and neatly cut through each of the seven layers. He handed the claymore back to Tavish and opened his mouth to eat the sugar rose petal she held in her fingers.

His eyes devoured her as she also ate a petal and licked her lips. He bent and took her mouth in a passionate kiss while cheers and clapping erupted on all sides.

Sophia shivered and felt an answering ripple pass through him. Their eyes met when he broke the kiss and stepped back, putting distance between their overcharged bodies.

“Later.” His whispered word was a promise.

* * *

“Dance with me,” a baritone voice hoarsely requested in Sophia’s ear. Ethan stepped around and held his hand out to Sophia. He was at his most charming.

Oh, my. She blinked up at him. “Ethan.”

She looked around searching for Alistair and her heart stopped when she noticed him looking at them through narrowed eyes.

Ethan’s azure eyes were full of longing. “I would be honored if you’d dance with me on your wedding day. Please?”

Sophia couldn’t refuse his plea and rose from her chair, placing her hand in his.

He raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. “You look gorgeous, Sophia. And happy.”

“I am.” They walked hand in hand to the dance floor and he pulled her into his embrace, his arm snaking around her waist. “I missed you at the other parties. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

I’m not entirely sure why I came today. “I couldn’t. But I wouldn’t miss your wedding,” he answered noncommittally. “I’ve set the date of our ball.”

For some reason, she wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between them, to comfort him. “That’s great news. When?”

“November the twenty-seventh. It’s a Saturday,” he said. “I talked with Mrs. Chanda and she told me you’ve already started the refurbishment at both India and China.”

“Yes, the planning is done and we’ll start work no later than next month. You will love the project, Ethan. I told Zahira that I wanted to show it to you personally.”

He looked down, saw the warmth and understanding in her eyes, and wished he could hold her tightly in his arms again and feel her softness against him.

However, Ethan kept dancing effortlessly, and a comfortable silence spread between them.

* * *

You’re being unreasonable, Alistair Connor. Frowning, Alistair opened his fisted hands and breathed. She is only dancing. Nothing more. You have no justifiable cause to complain.

He wanted Sophia, had wanted her from the first moment he saw her, when she walked into that meeting room. The physical, possessive and protective want, the need for her loyalty, her commitment; it was powerful enough to unsettle him, to obsess him, to undermine his usual unassailable control. Fuck!

Victoria did a fabulous job. It is gorgeous. She is gorgeous. And I am the most infatuated husband in the world.

Sophia did look splendid in the gown, the lace bodice revealing a good deal more of her body than he deemed necessary, and enough to constitute a threat to public order in his opinion.

All I have to do is control my temper and remember that I mustn’t break any of my friends’ noses for looking where she is so flagrantly inviting them to. Bemused, he shook his head at himself. Go there. Take her and take control of your feelings again.

Brows quirking, he examined that conclusion and could not fault it. He wasn’t going to get any real peace until he fulfilled this desire. Unbidden, his mind conjured up their first kiss and his hands fisted again.

He crossed the room with sure steps.

* * *

“My wife.”

Sophia was startled when Alistair’s voice cut in.

Ethan’s hands fell slowly from Sophia’s body and he stepped back. The expression on his face showed his disappointment at Alistair’s arrival.

So, this is the end; this is good-bye. “Sophia, darling, thanks for the dance.” Ethan kissed her cheek and turned to Alistair. “MacCraig. Yours was the most beautiful wedding I have ever been to.”

Of course. Sophia is the bride. Alistair enlaced Sophia’s waist and pulled her flush to his body. “Thanks, Ashford.”

Ethan nodded and walked away slowly as Alistair spun Sophia in his arm and started dancing with her.

“What are you looking at?”

Alistair’s eyes turned in her direction, her face holding an unasked question.

“I’m looking at my beautiful wife,” he murmured for her ears only, running his fingers over her back covered by the transparent lace, while he told himself he really should behave since they were in public. “My sexy wife, whom I’d like to peel out of her dress and set naked on my lap so I can do debauched things to her sexy body.”

“You shouldn’t be let out to torment women.”

Smiling with slow deliberation that brought lustful heat into those eyes of forest-green, he leaned in closer, his next words a purr against her ear. “I only plan to torment one woman for the rest of eternity.” He drew in a deep breath, took her scent within, but he wasn’t about to rush. Not today. “Shall I tell you what I intend to do to you as your gift on our wedding night?”

He wrapped her up in tendrils of vanilla and oak. A sensual and decadent promise.

“No.” It was a laughing refusal, her husky voice entangling him in chains he had no intention of ever breaking. “Or I’ll tell you what I’m wearing under this dress.”

He felt like stretching in pleasure as her precious laughter stroked his senses.

Mine. The most beautiful woman in the place, and she was his. “You…you turn me inside out, you know?”

Welcome to your married life, Lord Caveman. She cocked her head at him, playfulness sparkling in her honey eyes.

“I feel…I don’t know…” He lost what he was going to say as he looked at her face. A fleeting thought that he didn’t deserve to be looked at with so much love was immediately swept away by her sweet scent billowing around him, everywhere a soft cloud of lace and femininity.

“Possessive,” she said, delving her hands in his hair. “The word you’re looking for is possessive.” She sounded entirely satisfied and leaned in, her lips softening in subconscious invitation.

Her mouth was a breath away from his.

That was all the encouragement he needed. “Come, Wife. It’s time for you to indulge your husband’s possessive wishes.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, they vowed to be together forever, not knowing that forever always ended.