Page 17 of Romancing Rayne

“In these? You want me to wear old sleep pants and not something sexy and pretty? It’s our honeymoon. I thought I was supposed to wear lingerie or something.”

“You look sexy in anything. Now hurry up, woman!”

“Not until you explain to me why in the world you saved these ugly, purple pants.”

She wasn’t going to let this go and at the risk of sounding like a complete pussy, I had to tell her why I wanted her to wear those specific pajamas before my wife would get into bed so we could go to sleep.

“Because the first night we were together, you wore that black tank top and those purple pants. I remember thinking how beautiful you were. You weren’t trying to look sexy or flirty—you were just being you. And I’d never, in all my life, felt so at ease. We lay in this bed.” I patted the mattress under me. “And discovered each other for the first time. You, in those pajamas. I didn’t want them thrown away.”

The smile that appeared would’ve knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been lying in bed.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my prince. My fairytale. Everything I ever wanted in a partner. And for being—dare I say it—the most wonderful, dreamy husband a girl could ever hope for.”

“You’re a nut. Put those awful pants on and get your fine ass back to bed. We have a long day tomorrow and I don’t want you to be tired.”

“Oh, all right, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

“I’ll show you bossy, Rayne.”

“Sure you will, Captain.”

Not for the first time that night Rayne had me roaring with laughter. Goddamn, she was the world’s most perfect woman.

8

Rayne

“Oh my gosh, it’s . . . wow.” I looked around the central lobby of The Palace of Westminster—better known to us yanks as The House of Parliament—and was in awe. The vaulted ceiling looked to be fifty feet high with gold everywhere. There were no words to describe the chandelier that hung high above our heads.

“It’s pretty impressive,” Ghost said, taking in the sights as well.

“What are those?” I pointed to one of the four, very large designs above each archway.

“Each of the mosaic panels represent the Patron Saint for each of the four countries that make up the United Kingdom. England, Wales, Northern Ireland, and Scotland.”

“And what are the statues that surround the archways?”

“Those are the Kings and Queens from England and Scotland. I believe starting from Edward the First going forward.”

“I bet this tile floor is hard to keep dry with all the rain they have here. It has to be an accident waiting to happen.”

“Come on, Princess, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Ghost tugged my hand, and I reluctantly followed. I could’ve stood in the middle of the lobby, spinning in circles, all day and still couldn’t have absorbed all of the beauty and history in the room.

Standing off to the side of the reception desk was a very large man dressed in a black suit. His scowl turned into a smile as we approached.

“Sparky,” Ghost said, stopping in front of the man and offered his hand.

The man chuckled before he grabbed Ghost’s hand, shaking vigorously and pulling him in for a man hug, complete with a hard slap on the back.

“Ghost. Good to see you, mate.”

“Oliver, this is my wife, Rayne.”