"Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you…"
Isabella laughed as Jake sang to her as they swayed back and forth to the sound of Elvis. He curled his lip up in an Elvis manner as he did so before spinning her around and then pulling her into him.
"God, you are so fucking beautiful," he breathed once he had her tucked into him.
Isabella smiled at the compliment.
"I am one lucky son of a bitch," he grinned, leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips.
A collective aww came from a group of women watching their first dance off to the side of the dance floor. The Black Montgomery estate had been transformed from a beautiful backyard to a stunning wedding venue. There were white flowers and twinkling lights everywhere the eye could see.
"Your mother really outdid herself," Isabella commented, looking around the fairy tale space.
Jake kissed her template. "She only wanted the best for you, babe."
Isabella shook her head to herself, still somewhat shell shocked at the space. The decorators that their parents had spent thousands on did not disappoint. All of the green was perfectly sculpted and manicured, all of the lights and flowers in perfect placement. The Montgomery estate in the background was bathed in a soft golden light, giving the whole expansive yard a beautiful glow.
The Washington Post and New York Times had sent photographers to capture the beautiful estate and the wedding of one of America's wealthiest and youngest bachelors, Jake Montgomery. Since she was a daughter of Wall Street in her own right, the Swans and Montgomerys had pulled out all of the stops to impress their extensive guest list.
"Some things are just meant to be," he sang, somewhat tone deft but with a goofy grin on his face that made her chuckle. "They sure are."
The strands of Elvis eventually faded, and the DJ took over. "And now, Mr. Swan will share a dance with his one and only daughter if Jacob will let her go for a few moments." Jake playfully grabbed her waist while everyone watching laughed. "Just a few moments," the DJ laughed.
Isabella's dad came over and Jake gave him a handsome smile and a firm handshake.
"Shall we?" her dad asked, holding out his open hands. She nodded and took his hands.
Mr. Swan, a man of wealth and prominence, knew how to hold his own on the dance floor. He expertly twirled her around and swayed perfectly with the beat while everyone watching was charmed by the display of affection between father and daughter.
"Have you said hello to Senator Clinton yet?" he asked lowly when the song slowed to a verse.
Isabella looked around, seeing if she could spot the New York senator. "No, I have not had the chance."
"I will go with you after this," he informed her. "Goldman Sachs needs her support with this new bill making its way through the House right now."
"Okay," she agreed.
"Alan Greenspan is over there by the bar," he informed her, nodding in the direction of the Chairman of the Federal Reserve. "I'll introduce you afterwards."
Isabella had caught sight of Sandy flirting with one of Jake's ushers and gave her a laugh when she noticed. Her father frowned. "Isabella, are you even listening?"
She looked back at him and nodded. "Clinton and Greenspan. Could President Bush not make the trip then?" she asked wryly.
"Mr. Montgomery says he sends his regards and wishes you well. He had a state dinner this evening."
Isabella raised her eyebrows but lowered them at her father's sharp glance. She was on stage tonight, the pretty daughter of Charles Swan and the beautiful new wife of Wall Street's next big thing, golden boy Jacob Montgomery.
"Your husband gets it," he commented lowly after spinning her.
Isabella followed his gaze over to where Jake was standing with the CEO of Goldman Sachs, laughing and charming him like old friends. He was a natural born networker and after about 30 seconds into a conversation with a potential business connection, they seemed like they were best friends.
"You did well with him," he told her sincerely. "You two will be successful together."
She was quiet again.
Always so damn quiet.
Edward unlocked the door and pulled it back, standing by to let Bella in before him. The house had been empty since they had left for Glasgow in the early morning and there was a chill to it. He set down his keys and started to turn on the lights as a start.
"I can make a fire," he offered. "If ye like."
She looked reluctant to shed her winter coat as she slowly unzipped it.
"Whatever you want," she said, even with a noticeable shiver slipping down her spine.
Edward studied her for a brief moment, trying for the hundredth time to understand her. She noticed and averted her eyes, quickly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
"Would ye like more wine? I have that same stuff ye were drinking with Esme, it's her favorite…I'm sure she mentioned such to ye. I think it's from Austria – good stuff. I get it from the Isles shipment when it comes in, Carlisle brings it over."
He was rambling and he knew it.
"No, that's alright," she replied.
"Anything else I could get ye?" he offered with a slight smile. "Ye are in the home of a whisky distiller, so we have no wee bit of that, but I ken we have got some Kopparberg's and some Tennent's if any of that would interest ye more."
She once again shook her head.
"I'm okay, thanks."
Admittedly, his heart fell at that.
It was not truly his intent to get her drunk. That in itself was a horrible thought to him that anyone would do that with a lass in an unknown land and he was uncomfortable considering that that was anywhere near his intent.
But she was softer, lighter when she was a wee bit drunk on their wedding night. She laughed and teased and had a warm rosy blush across her cheeks. She said the word lovely too much and she had curiosity in her eyes and a soft smile that settled onto her cheeks when she was listening.
She had positively charmed him.
It couldn't have been a great production for her. She had been effortless.
It had been her.
But the day before the wedding and the days after had been much different.
She held herself in a controlled, distant manner. She was polite, never rude or standoffish. But certainly withdrawn, as if there was a part of her, a large part, that she was hiding behind an invisible wall.
And he felt certain that his night with her had been the real her, even though the evidence would point to that just being a drunk woman, nothing more.
"Did ye want to watch anything on the television?" he offered, nodding at the box in the corner. "I can show ye how to use if ye like. They play some American shows here and there that we might be able to find."
She wrapped her arms around herself, coat still on.
"I appreciate it, but I'm good."
Edward nodded, maintaining a neutral expression.
"Actually, it's been a long day," she said. "I think I will be going to sleep."
"Aye, right of course."
He mentally calculated the amount of clean clothing he had left from what he had grabbed when he had vacated the room for her. By his counts, he had at least two days left of underwear before he would have to clear out more of his stuff.
"Did ye need anything at all?" he asked.
At that, Bella offered him a small smile. It was the first smile that held any emotion in it all day, and he was surprised to see a hint of sadness in her eyes.
"Thank you, Edward. I'm okay."
He was staying in the house's third bedroom, the smaller one that had been Alice's when she was younger, before she had moved into Edward and Emmett's old room when their da had died. She had insisted that he moved into their father's room, claiming it was the biggest and the bed was more comfortable, and she would feel safer with him in the room closest to the door. Whether the last bit had been true, or a bit of manipulation solely aimed at removing him from his upstairs room, he still was unsure.
After a few nights in the room, he could certainly see why she had wanted to move. It was a corner room, with old, drafty windows on each wall. It was the furthest from the central heating of the house and it was drafty. The windows had needed to be replaced with higher quality ones for years, but they hadn't had the money.
It had a twin bed, a small desk, and a dresser. The floor boards creaked under his weight and he cringed at the noise that sounded so loud to his own ears. If he laid straight, his feet hung off the end of the bed. But it was too narrow for him to really curl up on his side. And Alice apparently had not been exaggerating when she said the mattress felt like it was filled with cold, dead fish.
He would never have dreamed of giving his new wife this bedroom.
It was a cold and lonely room, neglected in a way that the rest of the cozy house wasn't.
He still knew so little about her, but he'd be damned if what she needed was cold, lonely, and neglected.
So, he settled into his bed with few complaints in his consciousness. He had found some of the extra quilts Esme had sent with them last winter, a hobby of hers. They were heavy and succeeded in keeping him warm and making the room seem not so bad at all.
As he closed his eyes and his thoughts began to go in every which way, he felt a longing for a familiarity that went along with his bedroom. But as he drowsily examined that line of thought, his longing was not for his queen-sized bed with a better mattress and a warm lamp situated near it.
No, he felt a curious but increasingly familiar ache for what was in the bed.
He didn't understand it, but he knew he wanted to understand her. He wanted to better understand the daring, smart, stubborn, beautiful woman who he was sharing a roof with. He wanted to understand her so he knew how to make her happy…or at the very least content.
For reasons he had yet to fully understand, she had given up her money, her time, and her body…her everything.
He wanted to give her anything he could, a small sum in exchange for all she had done.
When she had retired for the night, he had stayed up. He had felt restless, even after the day they had had. He moved some furniture for the hell of it and aggressively cleaned the kitchen, careful to be quiet with both of his self-appointed tasks. He took his frustration out on grime and rust that accumulated in the far reaches of the kitchen.
If he were being honest with himself, his frustration almost certainly stemmed from all of the confusion he felt about the entire situation.
The confusion and the hurt.
The hurt came from the feeling of rejection as Isabella closed herself off to him.
He wasn't sure if she regretted taking him into her bed, but it was damn sure starting to feel like it. His pride was hurt at the possibility that he might be a horrible lover, which again if he was being honest with himself, was certainly not out of the realm of possibility given how new he was to the game.
But a deeper part of him was hurt and confused at the notion that it hadn't just been his actions but himself that warranted regret on her part.
Was it the type of man he was to take advantage of a vulnerable, drunk woman?
Had that been how she viewed it the next morning?
He paused.
Was she wrong if she viewed it that way?
Edward didn't realize he was scrubbing at a patch that had disappeared minutes ago.
When he had finally started to feel his tired limbs, he had finished scrubbing the sink and then turned off the lights and headed down the main hallway on the first floor. When he walked by the master bedroom, there was a sliver of light shining through the door. The warm lighting of the lamp must have been flooding the room.
He frowned realizing that she was still awake.
It had been two hours ago that she had wanted to go to bed.
With a sigh, he had continued past the room to his room.
It hadn't occurred to him that she would have heard his footsteps coming down the hallway and pausing in front of her door.
~O~
In the wee hours of morning, there was not a light on in the house lying in the scattered hamlet of Fasach on the Duirinish peninsula of the Isle of Skye.
The house stood resolute against the chill of the November night.
Yet each of the occupants lie awake.
Him with his growing feel of regret.
Her with her ghosts.
I know it was a small update, but there is a certain cadence to this past and present business that necessitates it. Upcoming chapters will be longer.
Into November we go, trying our best and searching for gratitude. Thank you for all your love through every season.