Page 80 of The Captive
"Yes?"
Her smile was wicked, full of promise. "I prefer your full name to Alex.” Her smile turned to a grin. “It will be worth the wait."
Two days suddenly felt like an eternity. I had to resist the urge to carry her upstairs immediately.
But for the first time since this whole mess began, we had time to figure out what we were, what we could become.
Time to see if love really could conquer all...
Was it love then? Not obsession, like Beatrice had. That was for certain.
We sat and chatted about mundane things for a while, and it felt refreshing. So normal and easy, the minutes just ticked by.
Two hours later, I took Aoife's hand and led her toward the garden doors. "Come," I said, curiosity getting the better of me. "Let's see what Ronan's been up to."
The evening air was cool against our skin as we stepped outside, and the scents of the garden embraced us. As werounded the corner toward the main path, Aoife suddenly stopped, her hand tightening on mine.
"Oh my God," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder.
The scene before us was nothing short of magical. Hundreds of candles flickered throughout the rose garden, their warm light casting dancing shadows across ancient stone paths. White roses—Cressida's favourites—had been arranged in elegant displays, their petals glowing like pearls in the candlelight. A small table sat beneath the arbour where climbing roses formed a natural cathedral, and crystal glasses caught the tiny flames like captured starlight.
And there, in the centre of it all, Ronan knelt on one knee before Cressida, a small velvet box open in his hands, a violin case open next to him, a polished instrument lying within.
Even from this distance, I could see the tears streaming down Cressida's face as she nodded, her hands pressed to her mouth in shock and joy. Ronan rose, sliding the ring onto her finger before pulling her into his arms and spinning her around as she laughed through her tears.
"It's beautiful," Aoife whispered. "It's the most romantic thing I've ever seen."
Before I could respond, Cressida spotted us and came running across the garden, her face radiant with happiness. "Alexander! Aoife! Look!" She thrust her left hand forward, showing off a stunning, glimmering emerald-cut diamond.
"It's gorgeous," Aoife said, genuine warmth in her voice as she examined the ring. "Congratulations, Mrs. Flanagan." She winked.
"Soon-to-be Mrs. Flanagan officially." Cressida laughed, wiping tears from her cheeks. "And you'll never believe how he did it. He had Willis bring my violin case from the music room—you know, the one he had fixed for me. He secretly broughtit here... well, when I opened it, the small ring box was nestled inside near my violin…"
She turned to look back at Ronan, who was approaching with measured steps, his usual composed mask softened by genuine happiness. "He said he wanted to replace all painful memories with beautiful ones... That from now on, I do not need to worry about anything because he’ll always be here for me." She swallowed.
Such thoughtfulness, the way he'd taken something that had once brought her anguish and transformed it into a symbol of love.
"Ronan," I said, moving to embrace my oldest friend. "Congratulations, brother."
He pulled me into a fierce hug, and for a moment, I felt the weight of our shared history—the boy who'd taken in a servant's son and the man who'd stood by him through everything that followed.
"Thank you," he said quietly, for my ears alone. "For everything. For protecting what matters while I was away. I want you to understand I’ll never stop trusting you." He patted me on the back while I smiled. “And by the way. I hope you know you’ll have to suffer through being my groomsman. Get ready—details to follow.”
I laughed. “Suppose I need to organise a proper bachelor’s party then.”
“I’m fucked.” Ronan shook his head, but his eyes sparkled, and when he looked at Cressida, I saw nothing but peace and contentment.
When we turned to the women, his gaze found Aoife, and it held genuine warmth.
"Aoife," he said warmly. "I hope you'll join us in celebrating."
"I'd be honoured," she replied, nodding.
As Cressida dragged Aoife toward the candlelit table to share champagne and excitement, Ronan caught my arm, his expression growing serious.
"Alex," he said, his voice low so only I could hear. "I meant what I said at dinner. About family, about protecting what matters. But..."
He glanced toward where Beatrice's name had cast its shadow over our evening, then back to me.
