All Things Have Become New

Danny curled his hands around two brass knobs on a set of double oak doors and looked up past the chipped white paint to a small steeple.

“You ready?” Ian asked behind him.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Deep breaths. Can’t have you falling on me and wrinkling my freshly pressed kilt.”

Danny chuckled. “I’m serious. What if I say the wrong thing?”

“Listen, it’s simple. Repeat after me, I Danny, take you, Claire, to be my wife. Now let’s get the hell out of here and consummate this thang.”

Danny’s head fell against the door on a deep laugh. “I’ll give you all of Flygande, if you promise never to say that again.”

Ian grinned. “What would great-granddaddy Torbj?rn say if he knew you offered a McClellan that?”

“He’d tear the weapons off the walls and slaughter my ass.”

“As fun as that would be to watch, I may have a better gift.” Ian lifted out a long velvet box with a red ribbon from his tuxedo jacket.

“Sorry, man. I’m already promised to Claire.”

Ian smacked his arm and shoved the box in his face. Grinning, Danny slid off the ribbon and when he opened it, his smile slipped.

“What’s this?” He lifted a long gold chain with a circlet around three crowns. “The Tre Kronor?”

“I replaced the chain to match your wedding rings.”

“But I thought you got rid of this.”

“It was your great-grandmother’s necklace, Danny. It belongs to your wife.”

“My wife,” he whispered and then looked up at him through pooling eyes. “She’s going to be my wife, Ian.”

“Aye. But not if you don’t show up.”

“Shit.” Danny pressed fingers into his eyes before throwing a firm hug around him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bràthair.” He straightened Danny’s tie. “Everything’s ready too. So, when you’re ... ” He cleared his throat with a wink. “Done, give me a call so I can get everyone situated.”

Danny slowly smiled and waggled his brow. “You all may freeze to death before I’m done.”

Ian barked a laugh and shoved him forward. “Git in there.”

Standing at the front with his best friend at his side, Danny looked over the sea of faces. His jaw ached. He couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t matter that only those within the town could attend due to Solsken putting down record-breaking snowfall, keeping the bridge closed. He was the happiest he’d ever been.

His sweeping gaze stopped on the tablet held in Emelie’s hands. His parents’ and sister’s faces smiled through a live feed and waved at him. “?lskar dig, Mamma.” He blew his teary-eyed mom a kiss.

The music started, and his stomach dropped to his feet. At the back of the small chapel stood Claire in a mermaid-shaped gown of vintage ivory lace with a matching hat cocked to the side and netting covering only her right eye. The tears he thought he’d reeled in began rolling as she took her first step forward. There was still a small limp to her gait, but with her hand tucked tightly into her smiling son’s arm, he led her carefully down the aisle.

It’d been two months since her accident, and recovery had been so tedious and painful, he hardly dared touch her. Even when she begged for more than a kiss, he was afraid he’d hurt her. But when they got the all-clear from Doc, he’d forgotten his grand romantic plans for a proposal and fell on one knee in the middle of the office. Kissing the healing skin of her frostbitten hand, he’d asked the four words he never thought he’d get a chance to say. Before he could get the last word out, she’d burst a loud “Yes,” to the squeal of Annie in the doorway.

Neither of them wanted to wait until spring, so the entire town went into a frenzy of excitement in order to give them a wedding within a week. Even her dress had been a gift from Annie.

As if she shared his same memories, Claire’s shimmering eyes caught his. Smiling, her hips swayed with each step between pale-pink ribbons and evergreens billowing off the pews. “Only you,” she mouthed, and Danny’s smile grew.

He wiped his eyes. “Only ever you,” he mouthed back and didn’t exhale until her hand slid into his.

Vows and rings were exchanged before the officiant spoke the final words, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The chapel erupted with whistles and hollers as Danny dipped his bride backward in a deep kiss.

Swinging her back up, his mouth red from her lips, he grinned and faced the guests. “Everyone is invited to Flygande for the reception.” He side-glanced Claire, and her cheeks burst with color. “My wife and I will be joining you later.”

A shrill catcall vibrated the windows, and a sound very much like an old Scottish battle cry came from the back of the room as Danny swept Claire up into his arms.

“Em?” Claire’s only bridesmaid rushed over with a large fur-lined blanket, laying it over Claire with a kiss to the cheek.

Danny carried her through showers of rice to a sleigh decorated in boughs and ribbon. As the cheers grew distant, Danny slid her closer and nuzzled her cheek. “You ready, Mrs. Larsson?”

“I’m so ready, Mr. Larsson.”

He laughed and slapped the reins, bringing Gus into a trot down to what the town voted to rename Larsson’s Lane. The sleigh cut through the snow toward Claire’s cottage—their new home.

In each window, electric candles glowed. The red roof and door stood out in bright cheerfulness as they slowed to a stop in front of it. Claire released a satisfied sigh. “Look at her.”

“I am looking at her.”

“Not me.” She laughed as Danny’s hands slid under her legs, lifting her into his arms. An inviting glow of firelight spilled out from inside when he carried her across the threshold.

“You know, the ligaments in my ankle are almost fully healed now.”

“And your point is?”

She giggled and kissed his cheek, pointing her foot toward the bedroom. “You should put me down in there.”

“Oh, I’ll put you down.” She laughed louder and planted small pecks all over his face until he stumbled from laughter. When he laid her on top of the warm quilt, she popped back up, standing. “Get back on that bed.”

She grinned and placed her palm against his chest, pushing him to sit. “Promise me you’ll stay here and not move until I call you.”

“Woman, I just married you. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“But you may enjoy the sight if you do.”

Shit. He cleared his throat and loosened his tie, making her smile again. She planted a kiss far too light for his taste and wiggled her fingers as she limped out and closed the door.

He groaned and plopped back. A loud clang came from the kitchen. “Everything alright out there?”

“Everything’s fine,” she sang out.

He chuckled and took in the space that would be their bedroom. The remodeling was beautiful. Claire had spared no expense on the details. Finding and refurbishing items from Gene’s antique section of the general store, she’d matched the cottage style. Danny’s family crest hung on the wall next to the Swedish landscape painting she’d admired at Ylva’s Café, which Ylva insisted she have.

Next to their bed sat a picture from their engagement party. He stood behind a smiling, teary-eyed Claire, arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her cheek. He picked up the frame and ran a finger over her image. He still got shaky sometimes when he thought of how close he came to losing her. Even this morning, he’d woken in a sweat, haunted by the image of the pool of blood and her body half frozen in the snow.

He took a deep breath, easing the tension out of his muscles, and untied his shoes. When he removed his jacket, the sound of the Beatles’ “The Long and Winding Road” echoed through the house. He slowly smiled.

“Mr. Larsson,” she called. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

He sprang up, suddenly out of breath, shook out his arms, and stretched his neck. “Coming, Mrs. Larsson.”

He followed the music, shaking the last bit of jitters out of his hands as he came around the corner to the living room.

Lit candles cast a soft glow in every corner, and the fireplace flames cracked and popped—but he saw and heard none of it.

His wife stood in front of the fireplace in a sheer, cream-colored robe over a lace corset with a garter belt and leggings attached. Her hair, which had been pinned up for the wedding, now cascaded over her shoulders in waves, and she held a tray propped in her left hand.

If you asked him, he never saw the tray either.

“My God, woman.”

“I wanted heels for this, but my stupid ankle.”

He smirked. “They wouldn’t be staying on long anyway.”

She fought back a smile and motioned to a wood-framed, vintage chaise lounge. “Please, have a seat.”

He took a slow step forward instead, eyes scorching down over curves and smooth skin. “What if I don’t want to sit?”

“Trust me, you do.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she pointed to the couch again. Without taking his eyes off her, he sidestepped and lowered down.

With a slight limp, one foot in front of the other, her hips swung wide, and he leaned back, letting out a slow breath. He had to admit she was right. This was a hell of a view.

She held his gaze as she bent forward, setting the tray on the coffee table and let the front of her robe gape. Staying in that position, she watched him watching her as she picked up a ceramic cup and placed it in his hand. He didn’t even question what she gave him.

“Sip,” she said, stepping around the table.

As he brought the edge of the cup to his mouth, she dropped her robe. Sweetness touched his lips as sweetness stepped in front of him and slowly turned, bending to pick up her own cup. On a slow exhale, his hand reached out, cupping the full curve of her backside. Skin gave way to lace under his palm as he moved, voice dropping low. “Come here.”

She slid onto his lap, straddling his legs, and caught his hand before he set down his mug. “Not yet.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Every soft part of her touched every hard part of him as she leaned forward, whispering in his ear, “Trust me.”

At this point, it wasn’t about trust but self-control.

Sitting up, she lifted his free hand to her throat while she drank and let the feel of her swallowing flow under his palm before guiding it down to the top curve of her breast. If there was ever a time he wanted both hands involved in something, it was now.

She set down her cup.

“Wait, you can put yours down, but I can’t?”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled.

All arguments he prepared to give vanished when she pushed him back into the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her half-lidded eyes stayed on his as she stroked up the ridges of his abs, over his heaving chest and slipped the shirt over his shoulders. Anticipation thrummed in his ears as she eased toward him, eyes dropping to his mouth. Every thought wiped from his mind the moment her lips touched his in a slow, sensuous kiss.

Nope. He still wasn’t allowed to put down his mug. Even when she split his lips with her tongue and slid inside.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Are you serious?” He nipped her bottom lip. “I’m thinking about how much I want to throw this mug and strip you.”

She smiled again. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

“I’m afraid my brain isn’t what’s working right now.”

“Take another sip and tell me what comes to your mind.”

As hard as it was, he enjoyed this little game. Especially when soft lips descended his throat to his chest. He groaned and closed his eyes, drinking like she asked. Warm, sweet liquid trickled down his throat, and when he opened his eyes to make note of it, he swallowed the words at the sight of her kissing him.

How did he get here? This beautiful woman, his wife, savoring him like this. He curled his fingers into her hair, bringing her face up close to his. “I love you, Madelynn Claire Larsson.”

“I love you, Daniel—” She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Mikael.”

“How am I just learning this now?”

He grinned. “We’ve been a little busy.”

Mortification shrouded her features, and he quickly kissed her. “Nope. Stop it.”

He kissed her again, slower this time, his free hand sliding up her thigh. She melted into his kiss, and his hand curved around her bottom and squeezed.

“Claire?” he whispered. His touch traveled up her back and hooked the top of her corset with a tug. “I need to see you.”

Biting the edge of her lip, her fingers drifted to his belt, his zipper. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that.” She held up her frostbitten hand, the skin still sensitive. “Emelie had to help me into this thing.”

“I see.” He kissed each healed finger, then her palm. “So, it’s all up to me, is it?”

“Afraid so.”

He peered up at her through thick blond lashes, holding the mug, begging.

“Sorry, no.”

“You’re killing me.” He slipped a hand between her thighs, and her smile disappeared.

“Daniel.” She braced against his shoulders.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel all of her—needed to feel all of her. “I’m going to break this damn mug.”

“Not yet.” Her eyes slammed closed, like his touch was too much for her to stay controlled. “I want you to forget.”

“I could never forget this—” It hit him then. The taste lingering on his tongue was so familiar he’d missed it. “Tea.” He breathed out into a full smile and looked down into his mug. “You made our tea?”

“Yes, my love.” She opened her eyes, baring the depths of herself to him. “You told me every time you see our tea, you think about how I almost died. I wanted to change that. To give you a different memory to attach to it.” Her fingers ran through his hair and gently removed the band in it, freeing his wild strands. “I don’t want you to live with what-ifs, Daniel. I want you to live with what is, right now.”

Holding her gaze, he drank every last drop before letting the cup tumble and roll away. He gripped her hips, pulling her against him, and took her mouth. The taste of tea mixed with the taste of her was a heady combination, and both hands worked on their own, sliding up her thighs to unhook her leggings. Rough palms moved against soft skin as he slid them off and then returned to her hips, curling around with a squeeze.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He lifted her, stealing her breath, and steadied her on her feet. “Turn around.”

She did so, slowly, and his head tilted to the side as he drank her in before his fingers went to work. Each hook of the corset gave way beneath his fingers, his lips trailing down the opening at her back, and her eyes closed again.

“I love you,” he whispered as her top fell to the floor. The warmth of his hands slipped along the coolness of her skin and cupped her before sliding down below her stomach, catching on the last barrier between them—a bit of thin white lace—and lowered it. He paused, soaking in the view before he squeezed her hips, slowly turning her to face him.

All the air emptied from his lungs.

“My God, you’re so beautiful.” Taking his time, he let his eyes roam and savor every dip and soft curve before he brought his mouth to her, following the same discovery trail.

Tears slid down her face as she held onto him. “This is real,” she whispered, like she had to remind herself out loud.

“Look at me,” he said, wiping her damp cheeks. “Keep your eyes on me.” He guided her back down and onto himself.

With her small gasp and his deep groan, they connected beyond body to the soul.

“This is very, very real,” he said. “And I’m gonna make sure you never doubt that again.” Keeping them joined, he twisted to lay her back against the lounge, hovering above her.

And he began to move—showing her exactly that.

The sleigh sifted through the snow as Claire snuggled into the warmth of Danny’s side. The world was brighter somehow. Details of the glistening snow against the green of spruces, sharper, more crisp.

Her eyes slid up to her husband”s profile. Husband. She smiled. He was really and truly hers.

A smile spread across his face. “Do you need a third reality check?”

She laughed, nuzzling deeper into his side. Relishing the memory, the lingering feel of his hands, his mouth, over every inch of her skin.

Her head popped up as they glided past Flygande Norseman. “Isn’t the reception that way?”

He only smiled and pulled out a handkerchief. “Put this over your eyes—don’t argue with me, woman.”

She laughed again and did as he said. Warm lips touched hers and she hummed. “Is that the surprise?”

“No, that’s just because.”

The sound of murmuring voices surrounded them as the sleigh slowed to a stop. “Where are we?”

His arms answered her, lifting her down to stand. “Open your eyes,” he said near her ear, untying the hankie.

“Surprise!” The entire town stood before her with wide smiles and glasses of champagne.

She covered her mouth with both hands. “What is this?”

The crowd split to reveal Ian and Fin gripping ropes on either side of an attached tarp hovering over the doorway of a gray stone building. Together they yanked, and the tarp fluttered down, revealing a wooden sign that said, MADDY’S CORNER BOOKSHOP.

“I don’t understand.” Her vibrating fingers clutched the three crowns necklace Danny had given her.

“It’s yours, sweetheart.” Danny slipped a key into her hand.

“Mine?” She scanned around her. Familiar faces smiled back while nodding.

“Consider it our way of guaranteeing all your future novels will be written here, with me as your beta reader.” Ian grinned.

Emelie shoved him. “Us as your beta readers.”

A throat cleared. “I-I’d like to read them too.”

“You, Finney?” Emelie asked.

He leaned in close, and Claire bit back a smile when he whispered, “There’s a lot about me worth getting know, Emmy.”

“What do you think?” Danny squeezed her hand.

“But how?” Claire asked. “Don’t I have to be voted in to own a business here?”

“It was unanimous.” Ian handed her a rolled-up paper and kissed her cheek. “Never in the history of Solsken has any resident been unanimously voted in by the entire town. Even George here, and he never votes yes.”

She turned to the elderly man, who held his hat in his hand. His cheeks tinted, and he lightly bowed his head.

“I don’t ... how can ... ”

“Open it, love.” Danny pointed to the door and steadied her by the elbow. With shivering fingers, she unlocked the door, and Danny flipped the switch. “There’s even room in the back if you want to expand beyond children’s books.”

Soft lights blinked on, revealing colorful shelves filled with books. At the head of each shelf was a different blown-up sketch of Maddy with one of her encouraging quotes.

Claire’s eyes swam as she scanned over walls, painted so children could draw on them. Multicolored, padded carpet covered the floors where bright bean bags and little stools sat around tables filled with art supplies.

Her fingers slipped over her mouth. “What did you do?”

“Rejected or not, I wanted Maddy and children like her to have a place.” Danny held up a wrapped gift to her.

Tears leaked over the brim as she slowly unraveled the paper to see a leather-bound copy of the first story she’d let him read. The outside cover simply said, MADDY.

“I know you wanted to edit it more, but I liked this one the way it was.”

“Daniel.” She hugged the book against her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll get a different agent, or publish her on your own. Say you’ll let your inner child run free, Claire.”

She released a small cry and threw her arms around him. She only had a moment to relish his warmth before friends and loved ones surrounded her, wanting to hug and congratulate.

George received an extra kiss from her, and she smiled when he touched his cheek, open-mouthed.

She felt the constant warmth of Danny’s attention as she mingled. And every time she glanced his way, his eyes were on her. A smile on his face.

It wasn’t until she felt the heat of his hand sliding around her waist, and his voice in her ear saying, “why don’t you sit for a minute,” did she realize the ache in her still healing ankle.

Danny led her to a seat in the set beneath a picture of Maddy splashing in a mud puddle and propped her foot on his knee, rubbing out the small swell in it.

“Are you happy, Mrs. Larsson?”

Her wide smile and glistening eyes met his. “I am, Mr. Larsson. Are you?”

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Everything?” She glanced up to where his eyes settled on Mud-Puddle Maddy. “What about children?”

He lowered his gaze, swallowing. “With everything going on with your recovery, we never really talked about it. Either way, I’d still have married you.”

She reached for him, pulling him to sit next to her. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

Glassy pools formed over his eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” She touched her forehead to his. “I want nothing more than to have as many little Vikings and writers as we can handle on this beautiful island of yours.”

“Ours. This beautiful island of ours.” Salt mixed with sweet as their lips touched, and the book he gave her fell from her lap with a thump.

They broke apart and looked down to see the little girl who’d had nothing for so long, smiling up at the man and woman who gained more than they’d ever dreamed.