Page 68 of Savage Roses
She’s the most divine sight I’ve ever seen, robbing me of the breath in my lungs and making it so that it’s damn near impossible to process any real words. I forget about the cats and stand up to meet her, thrown by the woman in front of me.
The woman I love more than life itself.
The woman, as of tonight, I considermy wife.
Whether she realizes it or not—tonight is no regular outing. It’s much more than that. It’s symbolic in many ways, though I can’t possibly tell her how, or it’d crush her. I need her to enjoy this, to have this night as a perfect memory of us.
I pull her into my arms and inhale her dizzying light, feminine scent. “You are so damn gorgeous.”
She leans closer, kissing my neck, allowing my hands to slip to her backside. “Thanks, handsome. Can I add that you have good taste?”
“Yeah, I do.” I tease her, squeezing her ass.
She giggles. “You know what I mean. I meant the dress. It’s exquisite—and very expensive. What are we doing? Why the special clothes? It’sThanksgiving.”
“I told you already. Why not?”
She still doesn’t seem all the way convinced as I grab her hand and lead her out of the room.
My men wait outside to usher us into the backseat of the car we’ll be taking. This time of year, the sun disappears below the horizon at an early hour. Only remnants linger in the twilight that streaks a line between the fading daylight and the oncoming darkness hanging above it.
We watch from the car window as we speed by, and the glowing line grows thinner ’til it disappears altogether. The light goes out and the darkness takes over like ink spilling across a canvas. Night settles in and the only light comes in the form of a half-moon and some dotted stars.
Delphine leans against me and I welcome her closer with an arm around her shoulders.
This is how we spend the car ride—embracing, enjoying the landscape Asbury has to offer. It’s a far cry from what we’re used to in Northam. All the big city sights and sounds are gone and replaced by softer, gentler notes like rustling leaves and stone buildings in the town that Delphine calls ‘historic.’
Our driver brakes outside a winery. The stone building sits in the front of a long stretch of green fields.
We could dine inside the winery’s steakhouse, but it’ll be more intimate to do so outdoors. I’ve arranged for a seating area to be set up for us on the back terrace—a table and chairs under the night sky with strung lights and candles that create a romantic feel.
Fitting for an occasion like tonight.
Delphine’s hand clenches tighter in mine. The bright bulbs shine in her dark eyes. “This is so… romantic. Jon, you… you didn’t have to…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence because emotion takes over. I keep hold of her hand, helping her out of the car, leading her toward our table.
Dinner arrives plated in artistic culinary fashion. Tender ribeye cooked medium rare like Delphine prefers, swimming in a creamy, garlic mushroom sauce and plated with a rainbow of sautéed veggies.
A night like tonight—under twinkling stars and bulbed lights alike—I could’ve arranged for something more aesthetically pleasing to be served. Maybe a roast duck or baked salmon on a neat bed of arugula.
But I opted for a steak that drips some blood when you cut into it because…
While prim and proper Delphine Rose Adams might be the woman known to the world, the woman in private moments with me likes to let loose. She likes toindulge.
She loves a good steak and glass of red wine. A hearty meal that traditional high society etiquette would claim is unladylike.
I appreciate this about her—that she has this side nobody else gets to see except me.
When the server delivers our plates, her eyes light up and then flick across the table to mine. Her delicious lips quirk at the corners.
“You… get me,” she laughs, unfurling her cloth dinner napkin. “So many men would’ve chosen differently. They would’ve ordered a salad or some baked salmon.”
“What can I say? You like your meat.”
“Why does everything sound so X-rated coming out of your mouth?”
“Maybe you have an X-rated mind, Phi. Ever consider that possibility?” I suggest, picking up my steak knife and fork. I hold her hostage with my amused gaze from across the table and then begin slicing into my ribeye.