Til Death Do Us Trope (Tropes 1)

I don’t bother asking where the sword came from, it’s useless by now. I just recognize that we needed a sword and now we’ve got it.

The door slams open and there stands the Duke of England with his own sword held at the ready. I swear this is like something out of an old romance novel.

“Give us the girl and we won’t sink your ship,” the Duke demands with a sneer. It’s then I notice he’s wearing an eyepatch. Well, at least he’s dressed for the part.

“Never!” shouts Romeo as he pushes me behind him. “The marriage has been consummated. It’s no use, Duke. She’s already carrying my baby. Your royal cock is no good here.”

“My royal cock will have what it wants!” he shouts and lunges for Romeo.

The two swords clash and the sound of metal on metal rings out. They dance around the room and for a second I wonder why everyone is so obsessed with my vagina. I just shrug and then move to stay out of the way.

The two men fall out of the room and onto the stern of the boat. I have to remind myself that’s what the rear part is called. I can’t just say back of the boat because that would be confusing for all the nautical people that are reading this.

I cling to the rope near the edge, trying to stay back. It’s probably the worst location for me because I’m dangerously close to the water, but I literally have no sense of self-preservation.

Romeo trades insults with the Duke as they go round and round. Just as the Duke closes in, he raises his sword high and I scream. Fear and panic send me off balance and my foot slips off the edge. I lose my grip on the rope. Romeo reacts faster than I ever thought possible and stabs the Duke through the heart just before he catches me.

He pulls me back on board as the Duke falls over the edge of the ship into the water, the sword still stuck in his chest. He sinks down, and bloody bubbles float to the surface.

“He’s dead,” Romeo says, stating the obvious. “He’ll never come after what’s mine again.”

He pulls me into his arms and I hold him tight, trying to get the grisly image out of my head. When Romeo’s grip loosens, I see some of the Alfreds untying the pirate ship as the rescue armada shows up.

“Get us out of here,” Romeo orders, and everyone does as he commands. “I need to get my bride home.”

His eyes are so tender as he looks at me. I melt into him, letting all the worry and anxiety about the past few days melt away. Has it only been days since we met? It feels like exactly ten weeks.

“Where are we going?” I say as once again he scoops me into his arms.

“I’ve made several homes for us across the globe. And I intend to make love to you in every one of them, my wife.”

I glance down at the band on my finger and see his sparkling in the light. Something about finally being married to the man of my dreams is like a fairy tale, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him just as tightly as he’s holding me.

Finally, I’m safe. Finally, I’m free.

Or so I think…

Chapter Eleven

Romeo

The armada escorts us to land, and from there I carry my new bride ashore. My house is at the top of the hill, but I’m in peak physical condition, so I have no problems sprinting the entire way and making it to the top with her still in my arms.

I carry her over the threshold, bringing us the best of luck in our lives and our marriage. I can’t wait to carry her to our bedroom and strip her bare as I make love to her all night long. The thoughts of what I’m about to do to her come crashing down when I walk in and see her father standing in the living room.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” Arabella says.

I don’t put her down. Instead, I hold on to her tighter, not wanting to let her go. She’s mine and no one will ever take her from me again, but a man can’t be too careful.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bowing his head. “I heard that you were married at sea.”

“Word travels fast when it comes by boat,” I say, but I don’t know if that’s true or not.

“It’s true,” Arabella says proudly. “We’re legally bound. There’s nothing you can do to stop our love.”

“I don’t want to. I’m here to apologize. I was wrong to try to keep you apart,” he states. That surprises me. Not long ago he was trying to sell her off.

I narrow my eyes at him and my bride remains silent.

“Let me explain. I owed a great deal of money to the Duke of England. And now that he’s dead, my debt is forgiven. I know now that what I did in order to repay those debts was wrong. And I want to do what I can to make it right.”

“You can leave. That’s the only thing that will make this right,” I growl and place Arabella on her feet and move her behind my big body. “You get out of my fucking house right now before you suffer the same fate as the Duke. You can bring as many ninjas in here as you want. We both know that in the end she and I will be together.”

“I can see there’s no place for me here.” There’s real sadness in his eyes, but some things can never be forgiven.

I don’t correct him or try to stop him as he walks past us. Maybe one day, if Arabella wants to reach out, we can try again, but right now I’m not in the mood.

“Let’s get you some food,” I say to my wife, taking her hands in mine and kissing the backs of each of them before leading her toward the kitchen.

“This home is so beautiful,” she marvels as she looks out at the sea.

“It’s one of many, my love. And fully stocked anytime we want to use it.” I wonder for a moment if all my houses just have refrigerators of rotten food sitting in them until I decide to visit. Oh well.

“Like magic.” Her laughter dies in her throat when we walk into the kitchen and she sees Candy, my personal chef.

This goddamn house is just full of surprise guests.

“Why is there a stripper in your kitchen?” Arabella whispers to me without taking her eyes off Candy.

“Our kitchen, little love,” I correct. Arabella raises an eyebrow and I look over at Candy. “I think she’s baking a cake.”

“In a sequin bikini?” Arabella’s voice is getting angrier and more high pitched by the second.

“I hadn’t even noticed what she’s wearing,” I say, shrugging. I don’t pay attention to anyone but my Arabella. “Before this moment I don’t think I could have told you what she looked like.”

“Well, she’s no longer needed,” my wife growls as she stomps over to the cook and stands to her full height.

I lean against the door and keep my eyes on my woman. I have no concern for anything but her happiness. Seeing her get worked up is kind of adorable, though.

What does it matter if the cook is or was a stripper? It’s not like I’m even here to notice her. I travel to all of my houses and most of them have a shrine to Arabella. Even now in this house, a portrait of my love hangs over the fireplace. I knew one day she’d be mine, so I went ahead and had one commissioned for every home, which I told everyone was perfectly normal.

The only thing I care about when it comes to food is that it’s in front of me on demand at an unreasonable speed. I don’t need details, I just need results.

Arabella tenses then relaxes, and I notice the kitchen door slams shut. I guess I need a new chef. Luckily I snap my fingers and one appears. This one is a short chubby man with a curly mustache. Perfect.

“Make us dinner,” I order and walk over to my wife and scoop her up in my arms. I can’t go more than a moment without literally sweeping her off her feet. Hey, my name is Romeo, after all.

I sit down at the dining room table with her in my lap and a gigantic plate of spaghetti is placed in front of me. I knew I liked the new chef.

“Is that settled now?” I ask, kissing Arabella on the tip of her nose.

“It was either take off the sparkly G-string or get the fuck out. She made her decision.”

“I think she made the right one,” I whisper, and my little love nods.

I scoop up a noodle for her, letting her take it between her lips. I take one for myself, and as I chew on it, I see the noodle tightening between us. The more I eat, the tighter it gets, until we both can see that we’re chewing on the same noodle.

Suddenly the new cook is singing in Italian, and our lips get closer and closer. It’s like something out of a movie. Perhaps one that featured a beloved scrappy dog and the beauty of his dreams.

The chef pulls an accordion out of nowhere, and the moment is so perfect that I can feel it in my chest.

As our lips touch, the thumping in my chest that I thought was love changes to something almost painful. I place a quick kiss on Arabella’s lips even though she pushes to deepen in. Her eyes are concerned, but then they widen in shock as I clutch my chest. I’m unable to form words as the pain intensifies and my eyelids grow heavy.

“Romeo!” she shouts, but it’s as if the noise is far away in the distance.