Читать книгу The Love Child - Catherine Mann - Страница 10
ОглавлениеWhen she’d been a kid, Isabeau, like other little girls, had dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding of her own. Her mother had even spun those fantasies with her. Except her mom’s prince charming had walked out, and even though her mother kept telling the stories, Isabeau stopped believing. She wasn’t sure she even knew what a healthy dating relationship was, between her mother’s experiences and her own.
So how had she let herself get talked into being Trystan’s date at a family wedding? She’d said yes before she could think, her mind somehow losing its edge around this man.
A dozen times over the past two days she’d planned to tell him it was a silly idea.
And every time, she’d found a reason to delay until here they were, together, at a Mikkelson-Steele wedding.
Sure it was a small ceremony at the Steele family compound by the water, but still. Simple to these people still involved big money and security guards.
She wasn’t his date, not in the romantic sense. Although Trystan was playing it to the hilt, his arm draped over her shoulders as the bride and groom exchanged vows.
Trystan leaned closer, whispering against her ear, “Do you feel okay?”
“I’m fine, just fine,” Isabeau insisted quickly, then caught herself up short. “Why would you ask that?”
“Your face is all scrunched.”
“That’s rude.” The mutter eked out between her lips, which were lifted in a tight smile. Though to be completely honest, she could feel the vise grip of tension in her teeth and furrowed brow.
“My apologies.” His voice was low, but the lilt to his tone was light. Teasing. “Your gorgeous face is all scrunched?”
“Better, slightly.”
“We’re at a wedding. Pretend you aren’t checking your watch wondering how much longer until the reception, like the rest of us are.”
“That’s not true. I’m enjoying the view. The sun just made me squint for a second,” she lied through her teeth.
“Uh-huh, right.” He laughed softly.
She had to confess, a summer shoreline wedding in Alaska with a mountain range backdrop was nothing less than stunning. She would have enjoyed herself if it weren’t for the nerves in her stomach generated by the man beside her.
Distracting her.
The Steele estate loomed in the background, sprawling, like a cedar wood cabin on the scale of a manor house—these clients were beyond the caliber of any she’d had before. The home was nestled into the skinny pines and rugged landscape, the wildness of it all giving Isabeau a small sense of peace even with the mansion housing multiple suites for the Steele family when they were in town. The quarters for each sibling were much like luxurious condominiums. Glenna Mikkelson had even been living in her suite with Broderick for months.
Having their wedding here also made it an easier location for Jack Steele. The patriarch had only recently been given the okay to stop wearing his neck brace. He was a walking miracle, given he’d fractured two vertebrae in his neck. He’d survived the fall and the surgery that followed.
He was still an imposing figure, but pale, and she suspected he would be sitting for the duration of the reception. Likely only pride and grit kept him on his feet now. Actually, Jeannie Mikkelson appeared more stressed, worried and frazzled than he was, even with her mother-of-the-bride smile.
Isabeau glanced up at Trystan to see if he’d noticed his mother’s strain. But no. His gaze slammed right into hers with a spark of awareness that made her all the more conscious of his arm along her shoulders.
Lord, he smelled good, like spices and musk and man.
He smiled, which distracted her to the point she almost missed Trystan’s hand sliding down her spine to rest just above her butt. Her skin was on fire in a way she hadn’t felt in a long—a very long—time.
Why was he doing this? To rebel against the makeover or because he genuinely wanted her? His behavior felt like more than playacting through a simple date. She would need to tread warily to resist getting too involved with him.
She cleared her throat and hissed, “Pay attention to your sister’s wedding.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trystan’s hand eased upward to her shoulder again.
It had to be the wedding ceremony making her go all gooey inside, aching to grasp some of that magic in the air.
The wedding. Right. She should just pay attention to the proceedings, take in the staging and beauty for ideas for future clients who wanted a down-to-earth, simple ceremony.
The bride wore a fitted lace dress with long, sheer sleeves and a sculpted bodice, her blond hair swept up in a twist that exposed her regal neck. She held a bouquet of flowing Queen Anne’s lace, white roses and greenery. Simple and elegant, like the bride herself.
The groom’s tuxedo was a Ralph Lauren design with clean lines, and no Stetson today.
Unlike the other men, who all wore suits and hats.
The family resemblance on both sides was easy to spot. The Mikkelsons were blond or had hair a lighter shade of brown. The Steeles were dark haired like their father with a flash of Inuit heritage from their mother.
Isabeau had done her research on both families. The Mikkelson matriarch and Steele patriarch had both been devastated when their spouses died. She’d sifted through countless press releases to identify possible publicity pitfalls. But there were no hints of scandal in either of their marriages. It was impossible not to root for them now that they were planning their own wedding.
Glenna Mikkelson and Broderick Steele’s relationship was a bit more...complicated. Rumors indicated they’d had a brief fling in college, but Glenna had gone on to marry someone else. Her husband had cheated and fathered a baby daughter with another woman—who had then abandoned her child.
The precious little girl was in Broderick’s arms now, her chubby hands wrapped around his neck. Isabeau’s heart squeezed at the beauty of a real fairy-tale wedding. And with unerring timing, Trystan slid his hand down to palm her waist with a warm, subtle strength that sent tingles up her spine.
God, she needed some space from this sexy “date” of hers.
The chords of an upbeat song called her back, grounding her in the moment. Head tilting, she watched as the couple walked down the aisle together. Glenna glowed as she passed them, her smile as wide as the horizon and as brilliant as the midsummer sun. She lifted the baby up as Broderick led them all the way down the velvet aisle.
A family. Complete and ready to face the future together.
A chord in Isabeau’s heart snapped as the wedding concluded.
Suddenly, the world seemed to close in on her. The small crowd felt oppressive.
Space. The desire to bolt surged into her rapidly beating heart. “You know, you’re right after all about the reception. I’m starving.” She gestured to the caterer’s tent on the lawn. “I’m going to check out the spread while you chat with your family. Bye now.”
She smoothed her silky yellow dress, the hem teasing her knees, and slipped out from beneath Trystan’s arm. Her skin tingled with the lingering feel of his simple touch. Her heels sunk into the grass as she made her way up the hill toward the outdoor party tent. Tables of food were strategically available everywhere she looked, even up to the balcony and sunroom. Waiters walked the grounds with trays of canapés and drinks.
She didn’t have her dog with her, opting to let Paige play with the other family dogs in a large fenced area. Isabeau had decided that if she changed her mind, she could retrieve Paige quickly. Even now, she could see her yellow Lab loping with a husky, each dog holding the end of a stick not even sparing a glance at the large antlered moose ambling just beyond the fence line.
Best smile forward, Isabeau dashed away from the amassing family, from Trystan’s heat, her eyes trained on reaching the balcony.
Don’t look back at him.
Determined to find a moment of solitude, Isabeau headed straight for the mansion, climbing the lengthy stairway up to the balcony. What a breathtaking view of the festivities. And yes, she could find peace here as well, away from the temptation of leaning into Trystan’s touch.
An elegant, understated spread of high tables drenched in pale lace and lit candles filled the balcony. The candles flickered, contrasting with the deep blue depths of the water lapping against the shore below.
Navigating her way from the balcony to the sunroom, she paused to lean against one of the sunroom’s many open doors. Pausing to drink in the scene. To collect herself and assuage the mounting anxiety that rumbled in her chest, squeezing around her heart.
Golden sunlight drenched the room, pouring through the array of windows. An ice carving of a doe and buck glimmered, drawing her toward the spread of food. Casting a glance at the lawn again, she saw the other guests beginning to help themselves to the alfresco meal, with the option of retreating to the sunroom. Thank goodness for the spread out space for mingling or quiet. Because she felt jittery and she knew it had nothing to do with her blood sugar levels.
Salmon, ahi tuna, crab legs, asparagus, Caprese skewers...all of it made her mouth water. She built a plate of salmon and a plain roll just as a jazz band inside the house launched into their first set.
Yep. Fairy tale. And yes, a part of her still wanted a moment of magic like this. Not the angst of forever. Just the magic.
With a sigh, some of the restlessness she’d felt only five minutes ago seemed to dissolve. Making her way outside, she sat on one of the deck chairs, scanning the surreal beauty in front of her.
Isabeau tipped her face toward the brief warmth of summer, four weeks in late June and early July. Temperatures in the fifties felt balmy after her first winter in the state.
And while the thought of such cool weather feeling balmy never ceased to amaze her, the wild scenery of this state made her feel humble and small. In her college literature class, she’d been forced to read Thoreau and Emerson. At the time, their musings on nature had washed over her in a blur of words. But here, as she studied the purple of dwarf fireweed peeking through exposed granite along the shoreline, the perceptiveness of those dusty American thinkers resonated. Even with the helicopter parked in the distance.
Serenity and peace.
Well, at least it had been for a few brief shining moments. Isabeau sat up straighter as Naomi Steele approached, her belly round with her second trimester pregnancy, her dark hair gathered into an elegant bun, teardrop emerald earrings nearly brushing her shoulders. Those Steele eyes sharp, but tired. Isabeau couldn’t tell how far along Naomi was—guessing months or ages had never been her strong suit.
“Do you mind if I hide out here with you?” She rested a hand on her pregnant belly. “Royce is driving me crazy about how long I’ve been on my feet and if I don’t sit and eat soon he’s going to start hand-feeding me, which would be embarrassing.”
“He sounds adorable.” Isabeau had spent considerable time with all the family members this past week, but somehow Royce Miller had a way of making himself scarce if there were more than two other people in the room.
“Hmm... Adorable isn’t a word I would choose. He’s sexy and brooding and a great guy. But he’s also a worrier and I want to relax for a moment for some girl talk with my artichoke heart pizza—yes, I know pizza isn’t normally at a reception but I have been craving it.”
“I think it’s delightful and actually have seen it showing up on a number of event menus.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder at one of the Steele brothers as the room began to fill up.
Where was Trystan?
“And you won’t rat me out about the three fruit tarts?”
Isabeau pretended to zip her mouth shut, a theatrical wink following. She leaned in to whisper, “My lips are sealed.”
Naomi lifted one of the fruit tarts toward her lips, clearly excited to indulge. She popped the tart into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Moments passed before Naomi broke the silence, her eyes trained on the horizon. “We appreciate your help with Trystan. This merger means everything to us.”
“You both have beautiful families.”
“And we understand blending everyone into a congenial unit is about more than blending the businesses. But if meshing the companies doesn’t go smoothly, we don’t stand a chance.”
“Trystan is being cooperative, which is more than I can say for some of my clients.” She liked this family, both sides. Which made her feel all the more disloyal for her attraction to Trystan. She owed everyone her best effort.
“Probably because he thinks it’s for only a month.” Naomi folded her pizza slice in half and ate with an expression of bliss on her face.
“Pardon me?” Setting the plate down on her lap, Isabeau turned to face Naomi.
“The fund-raiser is in just less than a month, but I think everyone is hoping that some of your influence will last beyond that time and he’ll be more involved. We would like all the siblings to be more involved, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen, not with Trystan or some of the others, as well.”
Isabeau looked over at the dance floor, at the other family members in question. Delaney, the quietest of the Steele siblings, fluffed her hair. She seemed to shrink into the background, her body language tense. Her younger teenage brother, Aiden, came up to her, dancing circles around her. A true goofball in the way only a teenager seemed to be able to get away with. The reception hall was filling up, only a few left in the sunroom.
Naomi cleared her throat, dropping her voice low as people began to pour through the sunroom into the reception area. “But really, you’ve done a great job with Trystan. It was evident today.”
“Thank you. He’s been very cooperative.”
She glanced at Isabeau, grinning. “I bet he has.”
Isabeau chose to ignore the insinuation. “This was a nice chance to watch how he interacts and make notes of what to work on over the next few weeks.”
“We’re lucky to have you. Takes a lot of pressure off us.” Naomi skimmed another touch across her pregnant stomach. Her long, slender face gazing downward, possibilities seemingly dancing before her dark brown eyes. A long sigh rippled through Naomi. “I had no idea when I decided to get pregnant through in vitro fertilization how upside down my family was about to be with the merger, my brother’s wedding, my dad’s engagement.”
“Congratulations on the baby.”
“I’m pregnant with two babies actually. I should have considered the possibility.” A small silence echoed after those words. In a less aggressive, less confident voice, Naomi added, “I’m a twin.”
Pain twisted in the woman’s beautiful face, pulling at Isabeau’s heart.
Isabeau touched the pregnant woman’s arm, offering a small—hopefully welcome—sign of comfort. “Your sister who...?”
“Yes, my sister who died in the plane crash along with our mother.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I wish I could say it gets easier to handle with time, but it only gets easier to hide the pain. I can’t help but think of them today.”
Isabeau nodded in agreement. “Of course, that’s only natural.”
“You’re a very good listener. I never expected to talk about this tonight.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“I should get back to my fiancé. He’ll be chomping at the bit for me to sit down, put my feet up, eat something from every food group.”
“That’s sweet that he’s so attentive.” Jitters pelted her, along with memories of her college boyfriend. His attentiveness had turned into something ugly—controlling obsession. She didn’t see that in Royce, but she understood too well the sensation of feeling smothered.
Naomi rolled her eyes. “A little too attentive. But I do love him.” She pushed herself up from the chair. “I enjoyed chatting. Let’s do this again.”
Isabeau couldn’t miss the way Naomi’s face lit up when she spotted her fiancé. The way he returned her smile. There was so much love in the air here. Did these families understand how lucky they were?
Although she wasn’t sure she could trust all this happiness if it landed on her doorstep with a bow.
* * *
Striding past a harpist playing on the lawn at the reception, Trystan scanned the wedding guests in search of Isabeau. Had she gone inside to the sunroom or great room? Even for a gathering of just family and friends went beyond what most would call an intimate affair.
His plan to bring Isabeau as his date had been the perfect distraction from the way his family was meshing with the Steeles. His sister was marrying a Steele now. His mother would be marrying the Steele patriarch in a month.
The fact that his sister’s wedding was at the Steele family compound rather than the Mikkelson home made him edgy and, yeah, angry too. As if the Steeles were working to erase all traces of the Mikkelsons.
All the more reason for him to make a success of this month as the face of their merged company.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy his time with Isabeau. No question, sparks were flying.
He had a sense that up until now, particularly in his interactions with women, he’d been sleepwalking, stumbling through the motions. But Isabeau jolted him, electrified his core.
Surprising him each time he saw her—like now.
He strode faster up the stairs to the deck leading to an enclosed sunroom. And damn, did she look hot today, sunlight catching the flames of red in her hair as she sat by herself in the sunroom, her legs delicately crossed. Manicured fingers gripped a now empty plate, traces of crumbs decorating the china.
A vision.
That’s what she was. A vision he very much wanted to touch, hold and more, so much more. With the signature bravado that enabled him to approach even the flightiest and most aggressive horses, he drew in a breath and walked toward her with the Mikkelson swagger that had turned the onetime small business into an oil empire.
She sipped a glass of champagne, her bright eyes focusing on him as he drew closer.
“Come with me.” Extending a hand, he noticed as her lips parted, brows raising in subdued—but visible—interest.
“Okay. You’re the boss.” She stared awkwardly at her plate, seeming unsure what to do with it.
Taking it from her, he set it down on a nearby table. She set her now empty champagne flute down too, rising to take his outstretched hand. “Where are we going?”
“Dancing,” he said simply as they moved to the center of the great room. The small jazz band was tucked in the corner amidst the woodland themed decorations and a small space was cleared for dancing. So far the tunes had all been of the slower variety, and he hoped they stayed that way, eager for the feel of Isabeau against him.
“Dancing?” She laughed lightly, but still kept her soft hand tucked in his. “Now you’ve surprised me.”
The band segued into a Sinatra classic and Trystan didn’t miss a beat. He pulled her into his arms. He slipped his hand to her waist, letting it rest in the curve of her slender body. She seemed to lean into him, ever so slightly. Enough to send his blood pumping through his veins.
“I do know how. Mother insisted on lessons for all of us, everything from the basic ballroom styles to a session on square dancing.”
“Good for Jeannie. Did you protest?” Her steps synched with his from the first move.
“Hell no, I was worried my family would get rid of me—” He stopped short. He didn’t want to bust the mood here with talk about his insecurities during the early days when he’d been adopted. “Bad joke. I tend to blurt out what I’m thinking.”
“Honesty is an admirable trait. It’s just...” She bit her bottom lip.
A low laugh burst free. “Not always the most tactful for the business world.”
A major part of why he was better cut out for his role managing the family ranch.
“That makes tact sound dishonest somehow.”
Wanting to lighten the mood and chase away the shadows in her eyes, he twirled her away, the silky yellow dress fanning around her lithe legs. Radiant and sexy. She spun back to him, her hands finding his.
“I only meant that I get that there are nuances and things that are better left unsaid. I’m just not a nuance kind of man.” Keeping her close, he guided their steps away from the other half-dozen couples dancing, steering her toward the stone fireplace. Massive moose antlers stared down at him. Tall ceilings provided an airy balance to the thick leather sofas that were now strategically staged against the walls rather than in their normal places.
“Let’s talk about the dancing more. You’re a natural. I think we should capitalize on that this month in your image building. This has a great sophisticated look to it. With the right press coverage—”
“Isabeau, seriously, the image again?” He needed a night off from all of that. The past week had been intense and outside his comfort zone. Particularly the past two days when all he could think about was having her here tonight. In his arms for a dance.
Yes, he wanted a night he could enjoy. With her.
“Could you stop with the business talk and let’s just enjoy this dance?”
“Oh, um, sure. This must be an emotional day for you, with your sister getting married and your mom engaged—”
“Emotional?” He stifled a laugh, drawing her closer to his chest. He whispered against her ear, as they swayed in time to the music, “It’s just a wedding. That’s it. I’m focused on you.”
“Wait, our being here together is supposed to be about business, working on your image.”
He smiled, his blue eyes glinting.
She swatted his arm. “Stop that or I’m going to line up a dozen more press conferences for you.”
“I didn’t say a word so I couldn’t have shoved my boot in my mouth.”
“Your smile speaks volumes.”
His grin widened.
“Trystan, that’s not professional—or fair.”
And perhaps that proclamation would have been followed by a moment—the kind he’d been thinking about nonstop since the day of the fitting—but a cacophony of voices disrupted the intensity of their eye contact, the closeness of their bodies.
Isabeau pivoted toward the noise first. Chuck and his wife, Shana, stood at the edge of the dance floor. Heat seemed to rise around them, calling a tempest into the room as their voices escalated, beginning to drown out the jazz tune.
His cousin, Sage Hammond, moved between them, her voice low and calming. While Trystan couldn’t make out what the argument was about this time, it was clear that Sage was playing peacemaker. A role he’d seen his fierce butterfly of a cousin play on behalf of her aunt and boss, Jeannie Steele.
He felt Isabeau tense, clearly uncomfortable with a family altercation. Squeezing her hand, Trystan tilted his head and mouthed, “Follow me.”
A quick nod of agreement was all the encouragement she needed to leave the tense scene unfolding nearby. He maneuvered them outside, taking the path to the boathouse on the bay, near the seaplane.
Toward a small section of the compound all their own.
