Oh. I frown.
“Pack your going-away clothes,” he orders. “You’ll need them. Taylor has your main suitcase.”
“Okay.” What has he got planned? He hasn’t told me where we’re going. In fact, I don’t think anyone knows where we’re going. Neither Mia nor Kate has managed to inveigle the information out of him. I turn to where my mother and Kate are hovering nearby.
“I’m not changing.”
“What?” my mother says.
“Christian doesn’t want me to.” I shrug as if this should explain everything. Her brow furrows briefly.
“You didn’t promise to obey,” she reminds me tactfully. Kate tries to disguise her snort as a cough. I narrow my eyes at her. Neither she nor my mother have any idea of the fight Christian and I had about that. I don’t want to rehash that argument.
“I know, Mom, but he likes this dress, and I want to please him.”
Her expression softens. Kate rolls her eyes and tactfully moves away to leave us alone.
“You look so lovely, darling.” Carla gently tugs at a loose tendril of my hair and strokes my chin. “I am so proud of you, honey. You’re going to make Christian a very happy man.” She pulls me into a hug.
“I can’t believe how grown-up you look right now. Beginning a new life… Just remember that men are from a different planet, and you’ll be fine.”
I giggle. Christian is from a different universe, if only she knew.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Ray joins us, smiling sweetly at both Mom and me.
“You made a beautiful baby girl, Carla,” he says, his eyes glowing with pride. He looks so dapper in his black tux and pale pink waistcoat. Tears prick the back of my eyes. Oh no… so far I have managed not to cry.
“And you watched her and helped her grow up, Ray,” Carla’s voice is wistful.
“And I loved every single minute. You make one hell of a bride, Annie.” Ray tucks the same loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Oh, Dad…” I stifle a sob, and he hugs me in his brief, awkward way.
“You’ll make one hell of a wife, too,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
When he releases me, Christian is back at my side.
Ray shakes his hand warmly. “Look after my girl, Christian.”
“I fully intend to, Ray. Carla.” He nods at my stepdad and kisses my mom.
The rest of the wedding guests have formed a long human arch for us to travel through, leading round to the front of the house.
“Ready?” Christian says.
“Yes.”
Taking my hand, he leads me under their outstretched arms while our guests shout good luck and congratulations and shower us with rice. Waiting with smiles and hugs at the end of the arch are Grace and Carrick. In turn they hug and kiss us both. Grace is emotional again as we bid them hasty good-byes.
Taylor is waiting to whisk us away in the Audi SUV. As Christian holds the car door open for me, I turn and toss my bouquet of white and pink roses into the crowd of young women that has gathered. Mia triumphantly holds it aloft, grinning from ear to ear.
As I slide into the SUV laughing at Mia’s audacious catch, Christian bends to gather the hem of my dress. Once I’m safely in, he bids the waiting crowd a farewell.
Taylor holds the car door open for him. “Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you, Taylor,” Christian replies as he seats himself beside me.
As Taylor pulls away, our wedding guests shower the vehicle with rice. Christian grasps my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“So far so good, Mrs. Grey?”
“So far so wonderful, Mr. Grey. Where are we going?”
“Sea-Tac,” he says simply and smiles a sphinxlike smile.
Taylor does not head for the departure terminal as I expect but through a security gate and directly on to the tarmac. What? And then I see her-Christian’s jet…
“Don’t tell me you’re misusing company property again!”
“Oh, I hope so, Anastasia.” Christian grins.
Taylor halts at the foot of the steps leading up to the plane and leaps out of the Audi to open Christian’s door. They have a brief discussion, then Christian opens my door-and rather than stepping back to give me room to climb out, he leans in and lifts me.
“Carrying you over the threshold,” he says.
“Oh.” Isn’t that supposed to be at home?
He carries me effortlessly up the steps, and Taylor follows with my small suitcase. He leaves it on the threshold of the plane before returning to the Audi. Inside the cabin, I recognize Stephan, Christian’s pilot, in his uniform.
“Welcome aboard, sir, Mrs. Grey.” He grins.
Christian puts me down and shakes Stephan’s hand. Beside Stephan stands a dark-haired woman in her what? Early thirties? She’s also in uniform.
“Congratulations to you both,” Stephan continues.
“Thank you, Stephan. Anastasia, you know Stephan. He’s our captain today, and this is First Officer Beighley.”
She blushes as Christian introduces her and blinks rapidly. I want to roll my eyes. Another female completely captivated by my too-handsome-for-his-own-good husband.
“Delighted to meet you,” gushes Beighley. I smile kindly at her. After all-he is mine.
“All preparations complete?” Christian asks them both as I glance around the cabin. The interior is all pale maple wood and pale cream leather. It’s lovely. Another young woman in uniform stands at the other end of the cabin-a very
“We have the all clear. Weather is good from here to Boston.”
“Turbulence?”
“Not before Boston. There’s a weather front over Shannon that might give us a rough ride.”
“I see. Well, I hope to sleep through it all,” says Christian matter-of-factly.
“We’ll get underway, sir,” Stephan says. “We’ll leave you in the capable care of Natalia, your flight attendant.” Christian glances in her direction and frowns, but turns to Stephan with a smile.
“Excellent,” he says. Taking my hand, he leads me to one of the sumptuous leather seats. There must be about twelve of them in total.
“Sit,” he says as he removes his jacket and undoes his fine sliver brocade vest. We sit in two single seats facing each other with a small, highly polished table between us.
“Welcome aboard, sir, ma’am, and congratulations.” Natalia is at our side, offering us both a glass of pink champagne.
“Thank you,” Christian says, and she smiles politely at us and retreats to the galley.
“Here’s to a happy married life, Anastasia.” Christian raises his glass to mine, and we chink. The champagne is delicious.
“Bollinger?” I ask.
“The same.”
“The first time I drank this it was out of teacups.” I grin.
