Читать книгу The Unexpected Wedding Gift - Catherine Spencer - Страница 8

THE speeches were over, the ceremonial cutting of the cake done. During the lull in proceedings, waiters moved among the tables, refilling champagne flutes or, for those bored with Perrier Jouet, pouring two-hundred-dollar half bottles of ice wine as casually as if it were common tap water. On the dais at the far end of the ballroom, a ten-piece dance orchestra replaced the string quartet that had provided the dinner music.

If he’d been asked, Ben would have settled for a less fancy wedding. In fact, all he’d have needed to make it perfect was Julia. But he hadn’t been asked. His new mother-in-law had taken charge, consulting him only when she absolutely had to, and even then not quite managing to control the grimace creeping over her patrician features at the thought of his becoming part of the family.

“The man’s in bathrooms and kitchens, for pity’s sake!” he’d once overheard her exclaim to one of her golfing cronies. “Oh, Julia can protest all she likes that he’s president of his own company and there’s a mile-long waiting list of clients begging to have him design for their homes, but I hardly consider being able to build a few fancy cabinets a passport to society.”

“I’d give my eyeteeth to have his team work on my kitchen,” the friend had replied. “Marjorie Ames brought him in to do hers and the value of her house shot up past the million-dollar mark as a result.”

Unimpressed, Stephanie Montgomery had tossed her expensively permed head in contempt. “He’s still nothing more than a glorified plumber, as far as I’m concerned.”

But Ben didn’t care what she thought of him. He had Julia; his love, his life, and now, at last and forever, his wife.

Her left hand rested on the table beside him, soft and graceful, the broad gold wedding band he’d placed on her finger not three hours before anchored behind her diamond solitaire engagement ring. The realization, again, that out of all the men she could have had, she’d chosen him—him!—left his throat thick with emotion. He hadn’t known it was possible to love like this.

He slewed a glance her way, wanting to capture again in his mind the image of her as she was on this, their wedding day. He’d known she’d be a beautiful bride, because she was a beautiful woman in every sense of the word. Still, the sweep of her dark hair caught up in the jeweled tiara holding her veil in place, and her profile backlit by the late July sunset mirrored on the tall open windows, stole his breath away. She looked magical, an angel, so lovely he couldn’t find the words to tell her how moved he was by the sight of her, or how incredibly lucky and blessed he felt to have been the one to win her heart.

From his seat two places farther down the table, Jim, his best man, leaned back and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, pal, you’re drooling!” He smirked.

Ben grinned back and mouthed a reply. “I’m allowed to. She’s my wife!”

Over the band’s subdued intro, the emcee, an old friend of the bride’s family, hem-hemmed into the microphone and called on the groom to lead the bride in the first dance. Feeling as if his heart would burst with pride, Ben pushed back his chair and helped Julia to her feet.

Looping the end of her train over her wrist, she took his hand, smiled up at him and followed him into the middle of the dance floor. He felt he should say something profound, something they’d both remember forty years from then. But the only words that came to mind were the mundane and clichéd, May I have this dance, Mrs. Carreras? And she deserved better than that; she deserved the best life had to offer. So he kept his mouth shut and contented himself by placing his right hand possessively in the small of her back and urging her close, the way only a husband had the right to do.

Her silk crinoline billowed around them, disguising the fact that her hips nestled snugly against him and, thank God and whoever designed her wedding gown, hiding his body’s uncontrollable reaction to her nearness. He could well imagine her mother’s horror, if she’d known; her whispered outrage. He allowed himself to become aroused, Garry! Right there on the dance floor! He couldn’t even wait until they were in the honeymoon suite before letting his animal lust get the better of him. That pervert publicly humiliated us and embarrassed our daughter on the most important day in her life!

Except Julia wasn’t embarrassed. She might have blushed a little when she realized the effect she was having on him, but that didn’t prevent her from snuggling up a little closer and lowering her lashes in blatant, seductive promise of the night to come.

Blowing out a breath, Ben returned Mrs. Montgomery’s unblinking gaze. Like it or not, Stephanie, old dear, your lovely daughter’s my wife now and until death us do part! How we choose to conduct our relationship is no longer any of your business.

“Do you recognize the song they’re playing?” Julia’s voice at his ear, her breath soft and sweet against the side of his neck, brought his attention back where it belonged.

“‘If Ever I Should Leave You,”’ he said, bending his head so that his mouth grazed hers. From the sidelines, a dozen flashbulbs exploded as the photographers captured the moment. “Our special song. You must have chosen it.”

“Yes. Mother would have preferred a classical waltz, but I put my foot down. I wanted something that would have particular meaning for us. I love you so much, Ben.”

Emotion swept over him again, a tidal wave of such colossal proportion he hardly knew how to cope with it. They’d met during the intermission of a return engagement of Camelot, the previous February, and within minutes he’d decided she was the woman he was going to marry—a crazy idea, given that he wasn’t the impulsive kind and all he knew about her was her name, that she had beautiful, dark brown eyes and that she stood about five eight in her high heels.

Still he hadn’t let that stop him from inviting her out to lunch the next day, though he’d shown up expecting that, away from the romance and drama of the musical, she’d turn out to be no more special than any other pretty, well-dressed woman-about-town. That she was just as appealing in the light of a cold, blustery winter’s day was a bonus, but it was her warmth, her intelligence and her lively interest in other people that ensnared him forever and made him determined to flatten every objection her parents threw up in their efforts to discourage the marriage.

“I’ll prove myself to them,” he’d promised her.

“Why?” she’d said. “I’m the one you’re marrying and you don’t have to prove a thing to me.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured now, forcing the words past the knot in his throat and knowing they didn’t begin to convey the depth of his feelings for her. “There’s never been anyone like you, Julia. I want to give you the whole world.”

“I don’t need the whole world. I only need you.” She slipped her hand up his shoulder and caressed the back of his neck in long, slow strokes. “Remember the words to our song, Ben. That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

The impact of her touch sizzled clean down to the soles of his feet, with particularly graphic effect on his most susceptible quarters. Retaliating, he nuzzled her ear, flicked his tongue in its sweetly perfumed hollow and gloried in her muffled gasp of pleasure. “How soon can we sneak away from this shindig?”

“Not until you’ve done your duty and danced with my mother and the bridesmaids, and I’ve tossed the bouquet,” she said primly. But the way she nudged against him, the gentle pressure of her thighs against his, told another story, inciting him to reckless abandonment of protocol. Waltz with his dragon of a mother-in-law when he could be making love to his wife? Fat chance!

“Keep this up and I’ll disgrace both of us right now,” he threatened, tightening his hold of her. “Do you know how badly I want to take you away from here and have you all to myself, Julia? Have you any idea how often, in the last five months, I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms all night long?”

Her lovely eyes, so big and dark they reminded him of velvet pansies, clouded with apprehension. “What if I disappoint you?”

“You couldn’t,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Everything about you delights me.”

“But I’ve never…we’ve never…”

“I know. But it hasn’t been for lack of desire on my part. It’s just that I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to do everything right. And if that sounds crazy to you—”

“It doesn’t,” she said, stroking his face and reaching up to kiss him full on the mouth. “It’s sounds perfect to me, just the way you’re perfect.”

The flashbulbs exploded again, temporarily dazzling him. Blinking, he waited a moment for his vision to adjust, aware of nothing but the woman in his arms.

“I’m a long way from perfect, sweetheart,” he said, as the music slowed to a stop and a smattering of polite applause rippled around the room. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, just like any other man.”

“I’ll find a way to make you pay for them.” Laughing, she pulled away from him. “And you can begin by dancing with Mother.”

Reluctantly, he let her go. “Can I make it your grandmother, instead? Felicity’s more my type and she’s already admitted she likes to jive.”

She pressed her forefinger to his mouth. “Behave! Amma’s bad enough, without your encouraging her to be worse! As it is, she’s probably going to arm wrestle all the unmarried women out of the way when I toss the bouquet. Haven’t you noticed how outrageously she’s flirting with every man in the place?”

“No,” he said, both captivated and a little alarmed at the way she clung to her childhood name for Felicity. For all her sophistication and professional success, in many ways she was a very young twenty-three. Sometimes, he’d caught himself wondering if she was too young—for him, and for marriage—but then she’d surprise him with her maturity and he’d forget his reservations. “I’ve only got eyes for you.”

“Just as well, my darling husband, otherwise I’d scratch them out!”

He loved the way she leaned against him when she said that, the intimate smile she turned on him as they walked back toward the head table. It was how he’d always imagined marriage should be: the private jokes, the exchanged glances that made words unnecessary, the silent communication of body language that said I love you from across a room packed with other people.

“I’ll remember that,” he said, as he handed her over to her father for the next dance, and prepared to square off with her mother.

Stephanie Montgomery perched on her chair as if it were a throne and she the reigning monarch. When she saw him making his way toward her, she lifted her head and flared her aristocratic nostrils, the way a queen might when being approached by a particularly smelly stable boy.

Refusing to let her spoil any part of such a special day, Ben did his best to live up to her impossible standards, practically bowing as he said, “May I have the honor of this dance, Stephanie?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She didn’t look delighted; she looked resigned, and as mightily offended as if he had horse manure clinging to his clothes.

Not deigning to accept the hand he extended, she stalked ahead of him onto the floor. Exasperated, he followed, keeping a respectful ten paces behind. “I’d like to thank you again for everything you’ve done to make today so memorable,” he said, trotting her sedately around the floor.

“No need. You already did when you made your little speech. And I can’t imagine that you’d have expected anything less than the absolute best. Julia is our only child, after all.”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I give you my word I’ll make her happy. She’ll never have reason to regret marrying me.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Benjamin. Let’s wait and see where things stand a year from now.”

Over her head, his glance connected with Julia’s. The pride in her eyes gave him the wherewithal to put aside his urge to throttle her mother and to try, one last time, to strike some sort of truce instead. “The renovations at the house should be finished by the time we get back from the honeymoon. I hope you and Garry’ll both come to visit us, once we’re settled.”

“Unlikely,” she said. “If you really wanted Julia to remain close to her family, you wouldn’t have chosen to live practically in the United States of America. If she wants to see us, she can come to us. Our home, after all, will always be hers and our door always open to her.”

The woman should have been left out on the hillside at birth! Grinding his teeth, Ben gave in to temptation and spun her around with enough vigor to almost knock her clean out of her spindle-heeled shoes.

Punishment followed swiftly, in a way he never, in his worst nightmare, could have anticipated.

“Who is that person and why is she intruding on a private function?” she suddenly squawked, raising her eyebrows so far they almost disappeared into her hairline. “Is she one of your guests whom you’ve neglected to introduce to me?”

“No, Stephanie,” he said, his patience at an end. “Surprising though it might seem to you, I’m not such a boor that—”

But the reply fizzled into horrified silence as his glance latched on to the woman hovering at the double doors leading out to the foyer where he’d stood at the head of the receiving line not two hours earlier. Flaming red-gold hair caught in the light from the chandelier behind her, she peered at the crowd, clearly searching for someone.

He shook his head, as if doing so would bring him out of the sudden nightmare in which he found himself. This was his wedding day; a day that belonged to Julia and him and the future. His past had no place here. She had no place here.

In his panic, he stepped on Stephanie’s foot, then compounded the sin by ditching her completely. “Just where do you think you’re going?” she exclaimed, outrage lending an unpleasantly shrill edge to her voice.

Loath though he was to give his mother-in-law any more ammunition than she thought she already had, Ben had more pressing concerns on his mind just then than appeasing her, the most immediate being to whisk the newcomer out of sight before Julia noticed her.

Weaving a hasty path among the guests impeding his progress, he finally reached the doors. “What the devil do you think you’re doing here, Marian?” he asked roughly, grabbing her by the elbow and hustling her across the foyer to the private suite reserved for the bridal party. The luggage he and Julia would need for the honeymoon was stowed there, along with their passports and travel tickets. Her going-away outfit, something the color of wild orchids, hung on a padded hanger from a brass coat stand.

“I had to see you,” Marian whimpered. “We need to talk.”

“What?” He stared at her incredulously. “We haven’t spoken in months. And in light of our last conversation, I can’t imagine there’s anything left for either of us to say.”

“You’ll change your mind when you hear what I have to tell you.”

“Marian,” he said, hurriedly closing the door to prevent anyone witnessing the conversation, “I got married today. You just gate-crashed my wedding. Have you lost your mind?”

Tears glazed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When I went looking for you at the address they gave me at your old apartment, the workmen at your new house just said you were here at a wedding. They didn’t tell me it was yours.”

She sort of crumpled onto the little gilt sofa next to a full-length mirror and sniffled into a tissue she fished out of the big quilted bag slung over her shoulder. For all that he wished she were a million miles away, she made a pathetic sight and Ben couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “What happened, Marian? Didn’t the reconciliation with your husband work out?”

“Sort of. But it won’t last, unless you agree to help me.”

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Why do I feel as if I’m speaking in foreign tongues here? I just got married! My wife is probably wondering where the devil I’ve disappeared to. As for the conclusions my mother-in-law’s arrived at…” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Hell, they don’t bear thinking about!”

She glared at him through her tears. “If you think you’ve got problems now, wait till you hear what I’ve got to say! And you can take that look off your face, Ben Carreras, because in light of the relationship we once had, the very least you owe me now is—”

“Don’t go there, Marian,” he advised her tersely. “Our relationship, if it could ever have been called that in the first place, is over. It never really began.”

“You didn’t feel that way when you slept with me, though, did you?”

“Are you here to blackmail me?” he asked, his voice sliding to a dangerous whisper.

She shrank into the corner of the sofa. “No. I wouldn’t be here at all, if there was any other way out of this. But there’s more at stake here than just your future or mine, Ben. There’s the baby’s.”

He’d spent most of his thirty-two years facing reality, knowing firsthand that even the most fleeting happiness always came with a price. Over the last five months, though, he’d grown complacent; had woken up every morning marveling that life just kept getting better.

But with Marian’s last words hanging in the air like an ax waiting to fall, he knew he’d been lured into a fool’s paradise. “What baby?” he asked, guessing ahead of time what her answer would be.

“Yours,” she said.

Of course, it was a trick, a lie. One she was more than capable of perpetuating. After all, she’d kept a husband hidden away in the woodwork for the better part of two months.

So why was dread creeping over him like a shroud? Why did the only part of his mind still ticking along recognize that, in this instance at least, she was telling the truth?

Still, he tried to deny it. “I don’t think so. If I’d gotten you pregnant, you’d have mentioned it long before now.”

“I wasn’t sure he was yours,” she whispered, the tears she’d held in check at last running free. “He might have been Wayne’s. I hoped he was.”

“I don’t see how there could have been any doubt, unless you were carrying on with both of us at the same time.”

In a desperate attempt to ward off the nightmare web closing around him, he tossed out the remark almost glibly. But the flush that ran up her face and the guilty way she avoided his eyes stripped the black humor from his words and left them revealed for the ugly truth they were.

Stunned, he lowered himself next to her on the sofa. “Tell me I’m wrong, Marian!”

She spread her hands helplessly and said again, “I’m sorry!”

“For what? For cheating on your husband? For lying to me from the day we met? For telling me you’d taken care of contraception when you’d clearly done no such thing? Well, here’s a news flash for you, Marian. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t begin to cut it!” He heard his voice, tight with anger, bouncing back from the walls and fought to bring it under control. “Tell me this is some sort of sick joke.”

“It’s no joke,” she whimpered. “I wish it were. All through the pregnancy, I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But the baby’s yours, Ben. I know that for a fact because we just got the DNA tests back from the hospital and there’s no way he could be Wayne’s.”

Almost sick with anguish, Ben dropped his head into his hand. “Assuming this isn’t another lie, what is it you want from me now? Money?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to take the baby.”

He looked up at her, stunned. “Take him where?”

“Home with you. I can’t keep him. Wayne’s willing to forgive me having an affair, but he won’t be saddled with another man’s child. If I want my marriage to last, I have to give up the baby. That’s why I’m here. But if you don’t want him either, I’ll place him for adoption. I don’t have any other choice, not if I want to keep my husband. And I do. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved.”

“How can you love a man who forces you to give up your child?” he exclaimed.

She shrugged. “I’m not strong like you, Ben. I need someone to lean on.” And as if that explained everything, she stood, slid the bag from her shoulder and dumped it at his feet. “I could never cope alone with a baby.”

He looked from her to the bag, then back again. “What’s that for?”

“It’s got things in it that you’ll need. Diapers and formula and things like that. What did you think? That I’d stuffed the baby in it?”

“After all the other stunts you’ve pulled, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I’m not completely without feelings, you know,” she cried, flinching at the disgust he made no effort to hide. “He’s my child, too. I carried him inside me for nine months. I gave birth to him.” She drew in a breath and there was an air of desperation about her when she continued, “I have to do what’s best for him. I have to keep him…safe.”

Safe? Given the context of the exchange, the word struck an odd, if not ominous note.

“So what’s it to be, Ben?” she said. “Are you willing to raise him, or do I call Social Services and put him in their hands?”