“Talked?”

“Yes, I told you I was going to call John and set the appointment-” he interrupted himself as her brows shot up.

“Let me repeat what you just said. Quote, ‘I told you I was going to call John and set the appointment.’ Unquote. You informed me. There’s a big difference between a conversation and a notification.”

“Fine. I was trying to order you around. It’s...” His knuckles caressed her cheek, tenderly. Fuck my fears. She’s said enough times to trust her. “This is important to me, Sophia. It’s about the issues in my past. It will just be a quick talk. Please?”

“Just a talk?”

“Aye, sweetheart. Just a talk. I’ve informed John’s secretary we needed just a few minutes with him.”

Just a talk. So, no need to disrobe. John won’t see the marks. Sophia perused Alistair taking in his tailored navy suit and light-blue tie with tiny multicolored butterflies from Hermès. She gasped silently and immediately scooted back on the sofa. “I don’t take orders, but I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go. But don’t turn this into precedent. Next time, you will ask me first. Nicely. And... that tie,” she pointed, “has to go. Now. Forever. I’ll buy you a new one on the way.”

He blinked at her swift change of mood and strange request, “You’ll go with me, but I need to change my tie? Why?” His fingers instantly started to undo the perfect Windsor knot.

“I have issues with butterflies and moths,” she shuddered.

“Don’t tell me you are disturbed by such tiny, pretty things,” he smiled at her.

“No. I’m not disturbed,” she shook her head. “I have an insane fear of those ugly, furred and treacherous things that are almost impossible to catch and kill.”

His smile broadened at hearing her idiosyncrasy. “Here.” The tie hung from between his fingers. “It’s yours. Throw it in the bin. Burn it. I don’t care.”

She moved away from it, holding up her hand. “Put it away, please. I’m not kidding.”

He folded his tie and shoved it in his suit pocket, noting her strange reaction. “I never met a person that was scared of butterflies like this.”

“When I was a kid...” she shivered and wrung her hands in her lap. “I developed a phobia. Suffice it to say that if there was a real butterfly in the room, you would see me out of my mind, screaming. It’s irrational.” She glanced at her Santos 100 Skeleton watch. “If we are buying you a new tie, we’d better go.”

“I need another minute. I brought something for you.” Alistair grabbed her in his arms and hauled her onto his lap and his hand took out a black box from his suit pocket. He flipped open the box and an exquisite clip depicting two love birds appeared inside.

“Oh. It’s magnificent,” she breathed as he showed it to her. Her fingers touched the male bird made of yellow gold and yellow sapphires, tracing its wing as it curved around the smaller female of white gold and pink sapphires. Her finger caressed the stunning heart-shaped ruby that formed the male’s belly. “It’s so... fierce, protective. It reminds me of you. It’s... I have no words, Alistair.” She gave him a kiss on the lips. “Thanks, Handsome.”

He put his thumb over her index finger that was positioned on the heart-shaped ruby and murmured to her, “I’m giving you my heart, Sophia. Take good care of it.”

He pinned the clip to her dress over her heart, as she bit her lip and looked down at her hands, a sudden anguish taking hold of her.

He gripped her chin and made her look at him, “What?”

“Too soon, isn’t it?”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, staring deep into her eyes. “I would say it’s too late.”

In a fluid movement, he took a red box from his pocket and opened it with a deft flick of his fingers.

She eyes him, quizzically, “Another gift?”

“Nae, I don’t know if this could be called a gift...” I’m branding you as mine. “It’s sort of a commitment ring,” he explained. He took out a large white gold Love ring with diamonds from the box and took her right hand.

Sophia immediately ripped it away from his grasp. “A commitment ring? On my right hand? What do you mean?” Too soon, Alistair Connor, too soon. Don’t destroy my diaphanous dreams. Let me live them for a little while.

He sighed and his head dipped toward hers, his lips brushing against hers as he said, “I want the world to know you’re mine, Sophia.”

“And are you going to wear one, too?” She jumped from his lap, holding her fisted right hand against her breast.

He jerked his head back to look at her and blinked at the fear that showed in her eyes, “Aye, if you want me to, I will.”

And now? Do I want him to wear an engagement ring too? Because this is an engagement, Sophia. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Do I want this kind of commitment? Do I want to see him killed, too? “You will...”

He nodded, “Aye, I will.” He immediately took his mobile from his inner pocket, searching for a contact and made a call, “Mary Weston, please. It’s Alistair Connor MacCraig. Thank you.” He wiggled his fingers beckoning Sophia to sit by his side as he waited. “Mary, how are you? I need a Love ring for men. For me. What do you suggest?” He gripped Sophia’s hand and pulled her onto his lap again, snaking an arm around her waist, keeping her firmly nestled on him. “Hmm. Hold on, please.” He turned to Sophia, “Do you want to choose it with me?”

Do I? DO I?

“Let’s go together,” he crooned, “I’ve chosen yours, you will chose mine. Is that okay with you?”

Oh, my God. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Mary, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Please, sort them for me. I’m in a hurry. Thanks. Take care.”

Sophia kept looking down at her hands.

“Happy, now?” He curled his fingers under her chin and made her look at him.

“That was not the problem. I just think this is a bit abrupt.”

“And to think I was the one afraid of loving.” He kissed her lips lightly. “You told me love didn’t scare you,” he murmured, almost sad.

Please, try to understand me. “I’m not afraid of loving you. Never,” she shook her head fiercely and her hair bounced around her. “But I’m scared to death.” She cupped his face in her cold hands and whispered, “Scared of losing everything again. I won’t survive another loss.”

Oh, Beauty. His heart squeezed in his chest and he drowned himself inside her honeyed eyes, so beautiful and honest. He put his big warm hands over hers and rested his forehead on hers and said firmly, “You won’t lose me, Sophia. You. Will. Not.”

“You can’t promise that, Alistair Connor,” she whispered. “Fate decides that, what we want, what we wish, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, at least, I can promise you I’ll try my hardest so you don’t get rid of me, stubborn and commanding as I am.”

The tease brought out a small smile from Sophia, “Amen, my lord Marquis.”

“So... Can I put the ring on your finger?”

She blinked. She had forgotten about the ring. “Ah...”

“Sophia, I’m not proposing. It’s not an engagement ring. It’s, as I said, a commitment ring.”

“Like the slave bracelet?” she asked him, with a raised eyebrow.

How cunning, Sophia. “Aye, like the slave bracelet,” he stifled a smile as he fingered the shining bracelet just below her watch and closed his hand around it, the contrast of her lean thin wrist and his long broad fingers gentling his grip.

“Well, then,” she sighed, extending her fingers and surrendering to his beguiling ways. “It seems you like to stake your claim, Alistair Connor.”

He smiled then and murmured against her lips, “Aye, Sophia, I do.”

Kensington. Dr. John Walter’s Office.


12.27 p.m.

“So, what brings you two here?” said John, sitting on his chair behind his desk and opening Sophia’s file.

Alistair glanced at Sophia.

She bit her lip to stop her smile and shook her head at him. Let him explain it.

“Well, first of all, Sophia... Err... Sophia has a strange reaction at the conclusion of sex. I’ve never seen it happen before. And I fear that there’s something wrong-” Alistair paused, frowning as she giggled. “Well, she goes into a kind of stupor that can last five minutes or so. She has difficulty talking. And... she even fainted once. I almost called 999.”

Five?! Aren’t you dramatic? “I didn’t faint,” she said in an amused voice.

“You did.”

“I did not.”

“Well, did you or didn’t you, Sophia?” John leaned on his chair, his kind blue eyes studying Sophia’s grinning face.

“I... Maybe I did, but it was very quick.” Her smile broadened. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t really faint. It’s absolutely normal.”

Alistair’s brows creased, “Quick or not, real or not, it scared the hell out of me. She was unconscious.”

“But what happened? Can you describe it?” John asked Sophia. “Do you feel nausea? Dizziness? Numbness in your hands or feet?”

“Numbness?” she smiled. “No, never. It’s happened before, but I never feel anything unpleasant. On the contrary. Hmm, let’s say that it’s so...” Oh, my. How do I say this? “Ah... Hmm...” Her lips slitted again in a big grin, “I feel so good that it leaves me warm all over, floating, as if I were ethereal, and it takes me some time to come back down from cloud nine.”

“Floating... Ethereal, on cloud nine...” It was John’s turn to smile, as Alistair blinked at Sophia’s description. “Well, what can I say? Congratulations are in order, I think. To both of you. All men should take their companions to that state. And women would need to be profoundly connected with their partner in order to achieve it.”