Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Valentine's Day: Part Two

Seamus drove me about twenty minutes out of the city and into the countryside, until we reached a small area of parkland.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Avington Park," Seamus said.

The name meant nothing to me.

Seamus drove me down a sprawling stretch of grass and, judging from the lack of a road or even a path, I assumed that people weren't normally meant to drive here. Edmond or someone else at Belle Morte must have pulled some strings.

Towering trees surrounded us – some were winter-stripped, like hands clutching at the sky, others were evergreen, their branches drooping under the weight of their spiky needles – and as we drove further, the glint of a lake came into view. Beyond it, in the distance, I glimpsed a huge house, mostly redbrick except for a white pillared section in the middle.

Seamus turned left, away from the house, and twinkling lights appeared between the trees. Then he killed the engine.

"This is where I'm supposed to drop you off," he said, twisting in his seat to look at me.

I leaned forward. A thick screen of fir trees stood in front of the car, blocking my view of anything but the occasional glint of yellow light.

"I just go through the trees?" I said.

"Yep." Seamus grinned. "Have fun."

"Thanks."

I climbed out of the car, holding up my dress with one hand so it didn't drag through the wet grass. As soon as I shut the door, music started playing – soft, gentle violins drifting through the trees, and my heart fluttered. Whatever Edmond had planned, it went beyond anything I had imagined.

Carefully, I pushed through the trees, towards the music.

Then I stopped dead.

Ahead of me was a small wooden platform, positioned next to the lake. Wooden posts stood at each corner, and strings of bright bulbs were wrapped around each one. More lights were strung in the trees behind the platform, giving a surreal, fairy-tale feel to the area, and those lights reflected on the surface of the lake, golden amid the silver reflections of the stars. Standing a short distance from the platform was a man and woman, both in black trousers and black shirts, both playing polished violins, both smiling as I stepped through the trees.

Edmond Dantès stood in the middle of the platform.

Everything else faded away as I looked at him.

My fiancé was dressed in dark trousers and a waistcoat, a white cravat foaming at his throat, and a black suit jacket that reached his thighs. Black pearl buttons gleamed down the front of the jacket, and his ravens-wing hair was tied at the nape of his neck, making his cheekbones look even sharper.

He was so beautiful that he almost wasn't real.

I had to look down at my engagement ring to remind myself that this wasn't a dream.

"Renie," Edmond said, in the faded French lilt I loved so much. He held out his hand.

I took it, stepped up onto the platform, and finally released the hold I had on my skirt, letting the velvet folds fall around me. "I can't believe you did all this for me," I whispered.

Edmond smiled, and I felt the warmth of it in my very bones.

"I'd do anything for you, mon ange," he said.

"But all this?" I looked around again. "It almost feels like our wedding."

"Is this what you want for the wedding?" Edmond asked.