A British Bride by Agreement Page 6

  “You must have something.”

  “Nothing—”

  “Fredrick, my family has been staying here for years—”

  “Just a moment.” The older man strode out of the room and returned a few minutes later. “We have a one bedroom suite available on a floor that is being renovated.”

  One couch and one bed for one night. No problem. At this point, Jonathan would do anything just to get Emma where she could rest. “Fine, we’ll take it.”

  “The bathroom and the bedroom can be made up, but I must caution you, the living area may not be—”

  “I said it’s fine.”

  “Give me a moment to arrange this.” The manager slipped back out of the room

  “Jonathan!” An older gentleman hobbled in on a cane.

  “Herr Tag, how are you?” Jonathan’s mood brightened. Here was his father’s oldest friend, and the owner of the resort. Jonathan embraced him. “Good to see you.”

  “Ach, my knees not so gut, but it warms my heart to see you. It’s been too long. And I hear you have found a wife.”

  “Yes, this is Emma.”

  She glanced up and offered a wilted smile.

  Herr Tag patted her hand. “A gut nights rest and all will be well.” He shifted his gaze back to Jonathan. “And how is business?”

  “We’ve just opened an office in China.”

  “Wunderbar, and which division are you working in now? Has your father loosened his grip on the helm?”

  Was it hot in here? Jonathan adjusted the collar on his cotton pullover. “No he hasn’t given up an inch of control. I—I work in a lot of areas. Right now, though, I’m overseeing, actually called in, to fix the Steller Charity Foundation, but it’s just a temporary assignment. The area I excel in most is product development.”

  “A good business man knows how to make money and how to give it away.”

  Jonathan grimaced. That sounded like something his father would say.

  The manager walked back into the room.

  “And Fredrick, is he treating you well?” Herr Tag gripped his employee by the shoulder. “I expect the finest room for my dear friends.”

  Jonathan cast a glance at the hotel manager’s anxious gaze. “He couldn’t do a better job. Under his care, we will sleep like kings.”

  “Wiedersehen. I shall check up on you later.” Herr Tag ambled out of the room.

  “Thank you, Herr Steller,” the hotel manager plopped in his chair.

  Jonathan held up his hand. “You have taken care of us. It’s no problem.”

  Fredrick avoided his gaze as he finished typing in the computer. “I hope so.”

  A bellhop led Jonathan and Emma up to the deserted third floor. As they walked down the uncarpeted hallway, Emma stopped and flashed her green eyes at him. “I don’t feel well.”

  Jonathan felt a surge of protectiveness toward her. He took her by the elbow and gently led her forward. “You’re just over tired. We’ll be in our suite in a minute.”

  The bellhop unlocked the door and Jonathan guided Emma into the room.

  Jonathan’s shoulders slumped. The uncarpeted living area held a coffee table and two folding chairs. A peek in the bedroom revealed a lavish king-size bed with gold silk bedding and rows of pillows, but no carpeting either. A maid was just setting a bowl of chocolates on the nightstand. The bell hop hauled the luggage into the bedroom.

  “Sleep.” Emma mumbled, throwing down her travel bag. She wobbled, and Jonathan rushed to keep her upright. He fished in his pocket and pulled out enough Euros to tip the bellman and the maid before they left.

  He directed Emma toward the bed. “It’s okay, the day’s finally over.”

  He jerked back the feather duvet and she plopped down, leaned over, and buried her face in the silk covered pillows.

  “Here you go.” He lifted her legs, slipped off her shoes, and pulled up the covers.

  She curled up into a ball.

  Her deep breathing told him she was already asleep.

  He peeked in at the sumptuous bathroom. A pair of plush white robes hung from hooks and two sets of cashmere slippers rested side by side. The gold tub could hold a football team. Could he sleep in there? With no carpeting, no oversized chair, there wasn’t a place for him to lie down. As he glanced at the bed, a yawn consumed him. He had no right to be tired. Before the jet was off the runway, he’d dropped off into a deep slumber.

  Running his fingers through his hair, he wrestled with his conscience. He’d promised Emma they’d have a two-room suite, but with the quick wedding and the last minute changes, this was the best he could do. He paced over and sat on the other side of the bed. The soft feather duvet was tempting him to lie down.

  He kicked off his shoes, and eased back. He would lie very still, on his side, and just rest for a bit. Emma was so tired, surely, she wouldn’t notice.

  Tension eased from his body, and already his mind was drifting through the memories of the last twenty-four hours. The pride on his mother’s face, the beautiful blue sky at the reception, his sisters teasing him. The sense that this was his destiny. A wife, a couple of children, and the eventual helm of the family business.

  The memory of Emma coming down the aisle brought a smile to his lips. Her light colored hair framing her sweet face. Her soft lips curved up into a smile. His chest burned. Now that they were wed, obviously he’d made the right decision. So why did his stomach clench at the thought of his strong attraction to her? Of course, as soon as they got back home, he’d have to bury himself in his work.

  What work? His father had moved him to running the charity, and Nick to product development. Was he considering Nick to run the company? He let out a sigh of aggravation and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. Why couldn’t he have stayed a part of product development? Surely creating goods that made money was more important than giving it away. Did his father think he wasn't performing up to Steller standards once again?

  He’d said something to Jonathan about strengthening his character, but why did he have to run it? Couldn’t someone else over see it? Jonathan punched his pillow to adjust it. This was just revenge for his wild days in his twenties. His father would never forget the things that were splayed across the tabloids. And his older brother, Joshua’s, death by suicide. He would never forgive Jonathan for keeping his brother’s secrets from the family. Joshua had been bullied all his life. Jonathan figured his brother should be able to make some decision on his own, even if they were wrong.

  So now Jonathan was stuck in the charity division to pay for his mistakes. What if he never got promoted back to the main company? Desperation shook his well-crafted plan to move up the ranks quickly. Frustrated thoughts crowded his mind. God hadn’t protected him from Dede. Hadn’t saved his older brother from dying. Maybe faith was just for Sundays.

  He rubbed his mouth with his hand. He would serve God, but it would be on his terms and if that had to be in the family’s aid organization, so be it, but it would be just long enough for him to prove himself.

  His body melted off into a world of weightlessness. The day slipped away and the pleasant awareness of drowsiness swept over him. Before he fully succumbed, a warm relaxing sensation consumed him, as if he was wrapping his arms around a feminine shape and breathing in the light floral scent of silky hair.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Emma drifted out of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open as she focused on the gilded pictures on the wall. She closed her eyes and let the memories of yesterday play out like a movie. The wedding. The string quartet. The masses of staring people. Jonathan. He looked quite posh in his dark Armani suit. His eyes, twinkling, smiling, appearing vulnerable and yet strong— her stomach rumbled.

  Still sleepy, she fumbled for the duvet to toss it aside, but something was lying across her middle, weighting her down. Jonathan’s arm was wrapped around her middle.

  As sunlight filtered through a crack in the heavy drapes in the bedroom, Emma rubbed her eyes. Her heart sped up. What wa
s Jonathan doing in bed with her? And what was she wearing. She peered down to find her wearing her traveling clothing. She had no memory of being put to bed. Pressing her eyes shut, she eased out of his embrace.

  How different he looked with his face at peace and his hair mussed. She resisted the urge to smooth it back down into place. Slipping out to the living area to give herself a private moment to think, the sight of the bare concrete floor and two metal folding chairs made her jaw drop. In a flash, she remembered there had been no two-bedroom suite available for them. She stepped back into the bedroom where Jonathan was still sleeping. She leaned against the doorframe. Poor guy had nowhere else to sleep. His relaxed face looked strikingly handsome, even with his scruffy beginnings of a beard.

  But a glance in a mirror revealed her hair standing straight up on one side and mascara smeared across her cheek. Anxious not to shock her new husband, she tiptoed into the bathroom and locked the door. Thirty minutes later, she walked into the bedroom, dressed but still toweling her wet hair. The bed was empty.

  “Come join me,” Jonathan called from the other room.

  A card table had been adorned with a tablecloth, fresh flowers, china plates, and crystal goblets. Three other tables held rows of silver serving trays. “Herr Tag had the kitchen send us every item on their breakfast menu. Are you hungry?”

  “Good morning.” Emma sat at the table. All this food for just two people? She tried to look calm, but this could feed an entire stadium of Cardinal baseball fans. Absurd. But at the smell of sausage, bacon, and coffee, her mouth watered.

  “Some pancakes?”

  “Please.” She sat down, cut into a butter-laden stack and took a bite. Apple pancakes. Warmth spread across her chest. She pressed her fingers to her lips. Was the Lord trying to remind her she was the apple of His eye?

  “I want to apologize about the—the sleeping arrangements.” He waved a fork-impaled sausage toward the bedroom. “I know I promised—”

  “Please, I understand—”

  “I didn’t—you know, bother…er, you?” He avoided her gaze.

  Her face heating, she fixed her attention on her food. “Me? No, you were sleeping quite peacefully.”

  “Good. So, what should we do today? I can arrange for a private tour of the Schloss Neuschwanstein Castle, the one that was the inspiration for the Disney World Castle. Or we could fly by helicopter to the Eagles Nest in Bavaria. Or I could see about shutting down the Nymphenberg Palace just for us. Or I could book a private boat tour down the Danube River—”

  “Could we just…walk around?” She poured a cup of coffee for him and then tea for herself. “I mean, I’ve never been to Germany before, and I’d love to just experience it.”

  A slow smile spread across his lips as if the simple concept had never occurred to him. “Sure, yes, that’s a good idea. We’ll walk around.”

  “Like an old—”

  “Married couple.”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He picked up a glass of orange juice. “Shall we toast? To us?”

  Tenderness seeped like honey into her soul, easing all her earlier concerns. Jonathan would be a good husband. “Yes, to us.”

  As their glasses clinked and they both took a sip of fresh squeezed juice, his eyes never left hers. Happiness infused her entire being. For a moment, she closed her eyes. Thank you, Lord. For the first time in a long time, hope welled in her heart.

  ***

  Jonathan and Emma strolled toward the Marienplatz, the city center of Munich. Cherry-red geraniums bloomed in window boxes and overflowed from hanging baskets on the street lamps. Everywhere, people were outside cycling or strolling, enjoying the late morning.

  Fall was Jonathan’s favorite time of the year. The crisp air had a slight nip to it. The cool temperature invigorated him, and the beautiful woman beside him made all the stress of the weeks leading up to the wedding slip away like a bad dream.

  The tension that gripped his shoulders twenty-four/seven was gone and all that lay before him was five gorgeous days in his favorite city with his wife. Wife. The word still shocked him like a hockey puck to the chest. But so far, he had been pleasantly surprised, even amazed by her upbeat attitude and thoughtfulness.

  They mingled amidst all of the tourists enjoying the fresh air. He was glad to see for now, there had been no paparazzi following them. At the sound of the foreign words around him, he regretted not ever attempting to learn German, but he’d always been here with his family who had tours, events, meals, arranged by their staff. Very insulating. This mixing with all the other visitors was a completely different experience.

  Emma paused on the street and pulled out a guidebook from her large purse. “I think this is where Richard Strauss, the composer, once lived.”

  Jonathan smiled. Clever girl. “I never knew that.”

  “Could we tour the house?”

  “Sure.”

  The two stepped into a cozy room with the sound of a coo-coo clock chiming in the background.

  “Guten abend, Good day,” greeted the older gentleman in traditional leather lederhosen.

  Emma pulled another small book from her purse and flipped through the pages. She pointed to a tour sign. “Wieviel?”

  Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. She knew German?

  She leaned in toward him. “I just wanted to ask how much it cost to tour the home.”

  He choked down a chuckle at her refreshing naiveté. His family owned millions and she was worried about a few Euros. “You have mastered German?”

  “I think it’s always polite to make an attempt to learn the country’s language instead of forcing them to use yours. After all, we are the guests in their country.”

  Not clever. Brilliant. He scrutinized her further. Why hadn’t he noticed how deeply intelligent she was?

  After a quick tour of the home, they continued their journey around the city center. The cobbled lanes and picturesque jostle of steeple-roofed shops, their white facades knitting together with squares and X’s of black timber, simmered with history. The crowds thickened, filling the air with a myriad of languages. Emma kept flipping through her book and pointing out interesting cultural sites in the city he’d visited so often, but had never truly known.

  “Are you sure you’ve never been here before?” he asked.

  “No, I just like learning about different countries.”

  “I’m amazed at how much you know already.”

  “Jonathan! Emma! Look here!” A swarm of photographers blocked their path.

  Jonathan held Emma’s arm and whispered between a clenched smile, “Just stand and grin, they will soon go away.”

  But one tall photographer got on his knees in front of Emma and aimed his camera. “What’s it like to be suddenly be a rich lady?”

  Emma frowned and stepped back.

  The tall photographer moved toward her and kept snapping pictures.

  Jonathan paced forward and, without dropping his smile, pressed on the guy’s shoulder until he tripped over himself.

  “Emma! Jonathan! Over here please!”

  Jonathan was done with smiling. This was meant to be a private honeymoon. “That’s all gentlemen.” He took Emma’s hand and led her in the opposite direction.

  Suddenly, Emma was shoved from behind.

  Jonathan tried to catch her before she fell, but he missed her and she went sprawling onto the cobblestone road.

  She yelped in pain.

  Jonathan fell to her side, when a balding photographer stuck a camera in her pain-etched face and started taking pictures. “Marriage not going so well? Husband cheating on you already?”

  Jonathan stepped between Emma and gripped the cruel man’s camera, twisting it until it fell to the ground, splintering into pieces. “Send me the bill.”

  He then swirled around and fell to her side. “Darling,” he cradled her bleeding head in his hands. “Are you all right?”

  Emma nodded.

  He helped her to her feet
, but once he turned, the camera-less photographer punched Jonathan in the gut. Jonathan groaned as he bent forward, but he resisted closing his blurred eyes to keep his attention on Emma. Scrambling to his feet, Jonathan grabbed Emma by the hand. “Run!”

  The two ran as fast as they could down a type of alleyway, across a car-filled busy street, through a throng of tourists and darted into a souvenir shop. With their backs turned and heads down, they stared earnestly at a collection of beer steins. Jonathan and Emma were gasping to catch their breath.

  “Are they gone?” Emma asked.

  Jonathan edged his gaze over his shoulder. “Just passing by now.” He dared a glance at her, steeling his reaction to her injuries. Her head was bleeding, and so were the palms of her hands. Fury bolted through him. He clenched his jaw and resisted going after those men, knowing that all it would do is give them the angry photos they wanted of him. He whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen photographers act so aggressive.”

  She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. “But why? Why would they want to hurt me and then take pictures?”

  “You are a public figure now. Our photos, and certainly your lovely face, is worth a lot of money.”

  “But how did they know we were here?” Her voice trembled.

  He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Someone tipped them off. We will just have to be a bit more careful. She fell into his arms, and he savored the feeling of protecting her.

  After a few minutes, she pulled away from him with a flush to her cheeks. “I—I’m fine, just a couple of scrapes really.” She kept her attention on wiping her hands and forehead.

  A small grin formed on his lips at her sudden embarrassment. He took the cloth from her and cleaned away the rest of the dirt from her forehead. On impulse he kissed her forehead. “All better?”

  “Yes,” She melted at his tender attentions like butter on scone. “But all this adventure has actually made me hungry.”

  As they stepped out of the store, he caught a glimpse of one of his favorite restaurants. Der Gelphaus. The Yellow House. “Let’s go eat some lunch.”