“Say it again,” she said, and he grinned.
“I love you, Elaina McAllister.” He kissed her cheek.
“Again,” she whispered.
He kissed her chin. “Elaina…” And then her neck. “McAllister.”
“Please,” she started, and he could hear the shortness of her breath. “Don’t ever stop.”
He chuckled. “Kissing you or saying your new name?”
“Both,” she said, taking his cheeks in her palms. “Both. Always.”
Then her lips were on his, and Duncan wasn’t sure he’d ever come back down to earth again.
The crowd erupted from the cathedral, and he knew he had just enough time for one more—for good measure.
He moved behind her so they both faced the entrance, wrapping his arms around her torso and kissing the exposed skin below her neck. “Elaina McAllister.”
The roar of the crowd reached them at last. The rest of the day and night belonged to those who came to celebrate the happy couple, but tonight—tonight the king had plans for his queen.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jordan
All those hours together at the ceremony, and taking pictures after, and Noah had barely said a word to her. He’d readily linked his arm with hers for their walk down the aisle, but in all of the craziness, that was their only time alone. Had he found her note? Or was he retracting his offer altogether?
When their limo hadn’t shown, Elaina’s father ushered the wedding party onto a city bus, women first, as if they were escaping the Titanic instead of riding public transportation in formal wear, which meant once again she couldn’t get close enough to Noah to have one simple conversation.
Officially, the reception didn’t start until early evening. Unofficially, anyone who entered the restaurant would be fed and taken care of. All Jordan wanted was a break. And a few minutes alone with Noah at the very least.
Once inside the restaurant, she waited, anxiously watching guests pour in through the doors.
“Looking for someone?”
Griffin appeared at her side, a familiar face, but no. Not the one she was looking for.
“As a matter of fact I am,” she said, then nodded toward the doorway where Maggie stood outside talking to Miles. “Maybe you can change her mind.”
He sighed. “She told you about Washington?”
“Yep.”
“And you don’t think I’ve completely ruined everything?” he asked.
Jordan laughed. “I’m a hopeless romantic,” she said. “I think if you guys love each other like I know you do, there’s always a way to fix it.”
She could believe that about other people. Easily. But was simply loving each other enough for her and Noah? Wouldn’t he be with her now if it was?
Maggie stood just outside the glass door. Jordan and Griffin watched Miles kiss her on the cheek before disappearing down the sidewalk, but he didn’t follow her inside. Jordan guessed he had other things to take care of, things involving a certain Greek chef, and this made her smile.
“You don’t know where Noah went, do you?” she asked Griffin before she lost his attention completely.
“Not since he got off the bus. I’m sorry.”
Jordan could feel his urgency to get to Maggie.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
And that’s all it took. Griffin left her side to make his way to Maggie’s. Jordan took one last scan of the room and decided she wasn’t quite ready to celebrate yet. As Griffin stepped outside to meet Maggie, Jordan offered a quick hello and slipped out the door.
It took her seven times to get the key card to work. Seven. Which was the perfect icing on a cake layered with frustration. Noah couldn’t be bothered to answer his phone? Maybe send her a quick little text letting her know he hadn’t been kidnapped and transplanted to some Greek isle where he was now in the hands of an evil yet beautiful island queen who he at first despised but after enough time with her learned to love?
Oh God. Her jet lag was making her delirious. She could pee, take a quick nap, and still make it to the official reception with time to spare.
Jordan tapped the light switch she knew was on the wall just inside the door, but nothing happened. In fact, for all the mid-afternoon sun, the hotel room was pitch black, as if there were no windows at all. Great. She’d have to feel her way along the furniture to make it to the bed lamp.
She kicked off her heels and shuffled along the floor.
“Ow. Dammit!”
Well, at least she found the nightstand. She bent to grab her throbbing toe, and after a couple of hops toppled butt-first, thankfully, onto the bed. When she flipped the lamp’s switch, a warm glow illuminated the cave-like space, and the first thing she saw was a copy of E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View next to the base of the lamp. No—it was her copy of the book, but she hadn’t packed it, opting for her phone’s e-reader app over a suitcase full of books.
“I don’t…” Jordan ran her hand along the worn spine and finally took the object into her hands, knowing that somehow she was meant to look beyond the cover. Inside there was a Post-it, and on it only four words: This isn’t a proposal.
Jordan laughed and then inhaled a hitching breath.
“Noah?” she whispered, half afraid he was going to jump out of a closet or something and make her pee her pants, but he didn’t answer.
On instinct she scooted over to the other side of the bed and turned on that lamp. On the bedside table lay her copy of Pride and Prejudice. She opened to the title page, and on it she found another Post-it: Because I already asked, and you said yes. Only men who are refused have to ask twice. *cough cough* Mr. Darcy *cough*
Jordan almost choked on the combination laugh/sob that tried to escape from her throat.
“Noah,” she pleaded. “Where are you?”
She heard the familiar buzz of her phone, alerting her to a text. She found her purse on the floor between the door and the bed, and she scrambled to read what she knew was from him: Open the curtains.
Jordan tried to run, but she was limping now, the toe-stubbing possibly a bigger issue than she’d originally thought, but there was no time to worry about injury when what she’d been looking for all day was hopefully on the balcony.
Drawing the curtains not only lit up the room, but it also lit up her heart. Because there stood Noah—jacket and tie gone but still in his button-down and kilt, a small velvet box in his open palm and a sprig of mistletoe held over his head. She could barely see through the blur of tears, but she was able to find the handle to the sliding balcony door and gave it a swift yank.
And the freaking thing didn’t budge.
She watched Noah attempt to maintain his calm, but his eyes darted right and left, taking in the confines of the space. The small space. It may have been partially outdoors, but Jordan knew how Noah’s mind played tricks on him if he got into a panic. In its altered state, Noah’s brain could make him believe he was trapped even if he wasn’t, and while she watched in horror waiting for him to cross that threshold, he began to laugh.
Great. He was already there, alone, and this was all her fault. She would never forgive herself for ruining this trip for him, for ruining their engagement, and—were his lips moving?
Jordan swiped the back of her arm over her eyes and focused on Noah’s voice because the door wasn’t made of soundproof glass, after all.
“Brooks,” he started, and she could still make out the laughter in his tone. “Unlock the door.”
What? “How did you get out there if the door is locked?” she asked, though when she put her thumb and forefinger over the small latch and tugged it down, she felt the lock give way, and the door slid open with ease.