Page 89 of Claim Me

I felt like one in the white silk gown that flowed loosely around me, dipping low in the back. Tamara had insisted on sending the evening maternity gown during our last shopping trip, despite my protest that I had no events that required such a fancy dress. She’d winked and told me to save it for the next one. I’d thought I would never wear it, but the party was the perfect occasion. Paired with a pair of silver Louboutins, it was elegant and sexy—and as far from the typical maternity dress as I could get.

A deep purple carpet had been placed on the steps leading into the Victoria and Albert’s Grand Entrance. I’d taken the cue from royalty. Sarah was a princess whether she felt like one or not, and tonight, I would remind everyone. But the interior decor was all Belle and Edward, with one notable exception.

As soon as we passed into the large space that normally served as the museum’s entrance, the entire vibe changed from buttoned up to lavishly sensual. Wisterias hung from the columns circling the room and a cocktail bar lit by subtle purple lights had already attracted a number of guests. We passed through it, stopping to greet various friends of Alexander’s family.

Alexander’s hand left my back only so he could take mine, as though he was afraid he might lose among the strangers. My thoughts drifted to what Georgia told me the other day about always having me surrounded unless he was nearby. Tonight his possessiveness seemed to radiate from him like a field, and I found myself pressing closer, drawn to its energy.

But it wasn’t that I sensed danger. Rather, I knew my nearness soothed a jagged ache in him that nothing else could.

When we reached the corridor that split in the direction of the gallery, Alexander whisked me into an alcove and kissed me slowly, his lips savoring each movement. I gasped against his mouth, my fingers tangling into his hair. When he released me, his eyes were wild.

Before I could speak, he continued toward the party.

“What was that for?” I asked in a low voice.

He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “The wisteria.”

I’d done for him and Sarah, so that a tangible piece of their mother would be here tonight. But the flowers now held a different memory for me: of fogged glass doors and Alexander’s hands.

There were more of the delicate blooms draped over tall glass vases on the tables in the Raphael Gallery. The modern centerpieces contrasted magnificently with the Renaissance paintings that dominated the gallery. A popular band had taken up Edward’s offer to play the party and they already had people dancing in the center of the space.

Near the cake, Belle was talking animatedly to another woman I didn’t recognize. I took the lead, and Alexander followed, as keen to avoid another well-meaning greeting as I was.

“Guarding the cake?” I asked her.

“Someone has to,” she said. “Look at it.”

It was a spectacular feat of confectionary with five different tiers, all frosted in a deep indigo and covered in dripping pearls. I was more interested in finding out whether the champagne layer or the lemon layer did more to satisfy my sweet tooth.

“I should be going. It was lovely to see you,” the girl said, brushing Belle’s hand in farewell and nodding to us before returning to the crowd.

I gave Belle a questioning look.

“She applied for an internship,” she explained, “but she’s been called home.”

“Home?” Maybe that would explain why she was on the guest list.

“Her father is a Senator. She came with one of Edward’s school friends.” Belle said. “It’s too bad. I think she wanted to stay in London.”

Before I could dig for more information about the girl, the crowd parted for Smith and Georgia. The two were deep in conversation. Smith wore his tuxedo with authority, and when he saw Belle, a smile slid over his face. It faded when he saw who she was with.

“May I have a moment?” Smith asked, joining us. I was taken aback to see he was speaking to Alexander.

My husband looked to me. “If our wives approve…”

“Go and have your important conversations,” I teased. “We’ll stay with the cake.”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

I shoved his shoulder, beaming up at him. “I’m fine. They’ll look after me.”

He kissed my forehead, but as he turned, I caught an unspoken command pass between him and Georgia. I was being passed off. Now I was her responsibility.

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Water?” Everyone around me was drinking, but I’d yet to see anything nonalcoholic pass on a tray. It seemed unlikely that it would.

“Wait here,” she ordered.