Читать книгу In Bed With...Collection - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 31

SUNNY was amazed how easy it was to get a wedding licence. All she had to do was produce her passport, fill out a form and sign her name. No wonder Las Vegas was called the marriage capital of the world, she wryly reflected. Here it was a totally hassle-free procedure—no other certificates required, absolute minimal red tape, no enforced waiting time.

Her mind quickly flitted over that last consideration. Waiting was not good in this case. Bryce’s father wanted to see him married. Not that Will Templar would actually be at the ceremony, but the fait accompli would ease his mind and hopefully be beneficial to his heart condition. And then…no waiting any longer to have a baby. No more waiting at all.

As they emerged from the courthouse, the licence safely tucked in Sunny’s handbag, Bryce took out his cell phone and made a call, asking to speak to a wedding consultant. Sunny frowned at him, not wanting any delay, not wanting some hypocritical fuss, either. This was a straight-out marriage of convenience, not a love affair to be celebrated in the traditional way.

‘Don’t we just go to one of the wedding chapels?’ she said bruskly, much preferring to get it over and done with.

He shook his head, determination flashing from his eyes as he answered, ‘We do it right. Down to every detail.’

Sunny listened incredulously as he spoke to the consultant, listing off the kind of detail she would have thought important…if she’d gone ahead and married Derek. But that would have taken months of planning and scheduling and decision-making—chapel, flowers, kind of ceremony, photographer. Bryce was taking it upon himself to organise the whole wedding deal in a matter of minutes, without even consulting her!

Sunny burned with resentment. Wasn’t her consent enough for him? Why did he have to make a production out of a wedding based on mutual purpose?

Having completed the call to his satisfaction, he put the phone away, tucked her arm around his and grinned, clearly delighted with his planning. ‘Next stop,’ he said, hurrying her towards the waiting limousine.

‘What stop?’ she demanded to know, beginning to feel truculent.

He addressed the chauffeur who was once again holding the door open for them. ‘The Top of the Town Bridal Boutique.’

‘A bridal boutique!’ Sunny gasped.

Bryce bundled her into the limousine, still grinning from ear to ear. ‘Going to get you the wedding dress of your dreams.’

‘It’s not necessary,’ she gritted out, rebellion stirring.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘There’s just the two of us getting married,’ she argued, turning to face him, to hammer home the truth as she saw it. ‘It’s not as if we’re doing it in front of a whole pile of guests.’

It wiped the grin off his face. With a far more serious expression, he quietly asked, ‘Aren’t we the most important two, Sunny?’

Somehow that point steadied the angry whirl of protest in her mind. ‘Yes, we are,’ she conceded, though this was not the wedding of her dreams and she didn’t want to pretend it was.

‘Do you want to look back on our wedding and think of it as some hole-and-corner ceremony?’

She frowned, not having thought of what they were doing in those terms. ‘It…it means the same,’ she argued, still feeling out of step with his grand plan.

His green eyes seemed to glow like emerald fire as he softly said, ‘I want my bride feeling beautiful, and knowing she is beautiful to me.’

Sunny’s heart turned over.

‘And I want you to be proud of the photos of our wedding when you show them to our children—their mother and father on the day they were married.’

Their children? They swirled in the mists of Sunny’s imagination—a little boy and girl, examining their parents’ wedding photos.

‘We owe it to ourselves and them to do it right, Sunny,’ Bryce pressed.

She hadn’t been looking ahead. The blind need for positive action had seized her, and nothing else had really entered the equation. Selfishly blind, Sunny suddenly realised. This was Bryce’s wedding, too. And the intent of their marriage was to have a child…children.

As he said, love could grow out of caring for each other. He wanted her to feel like a beautiful bride, and why shouldn’t she? She would have wanted that with Derek, and Bryce was better husband material than Derek had ever been.

She could send a wedding photo to her family. That would make her marriage to Bryce more right for them, as well. And shift any nasty cracks from Derek into the sour grapes category. A fait accompli would certainly help to put a stop to criticism.

‘Okay. We’ll go for all the trimmings,’ she agreed, glad now that he had thought of them for her. ‘But I pay for my own wedding gown, Bryce.’

He laughed. ‘One last stroke of independence?’

It was more a matter of pride. ‘I’m not coming to you on a free ride.’

He instantly sobered, his eyes flashing darkly. ‘Wipe that guy and everything he said out of your mind, Sunny. This is our day. I know what you’re worth to me and in that context, counting money is meaningless. I’m not buying you.’

Shame wormed around inside her, raising a flood of heat to her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Bryce. I…I guess that really stung me.’

‘Let it go,’ he advised quietly. ‘Don’t let it spoil what we can have together.’

‘I won’t,’ she promised fervently, her eyes begging his forgiveness. It was Derek who had humiliated her, not this man. Bryce made her feel good about herself.

He smiled, chasing the painful shadows of Derek away.

She smiled back, determined that she would feel beautiful as his bride. And she wouldn’t count the cost of anything because that was how Bryce wanted it. Pleasing her husband-to-be was important.

When they arrived at the bridal boutique, he instantly commandeered a saleslady, instructing her to show Miss York the very best stock she had, and he expected to see the selection of gowns paraded in front of him so he could judge for himself which one most suited her very unique style of beauty. He then settled himself on a white satin sofa and waved them on to the business of looking at what was available.

‘Now there is a guy I could really take to,’ the saleslady remarked to Sunny, rolling her eyes in maxi-appreciation. ‘You sure have won yourself a prize in him.’

‘Yes. Yes, I have,’ Sunny agreed, determined to believe it.

‘Hmm…’ The woman eyed her up and down. ‘With your height and legs, we certainly don’t want a crinoline-style skirt. Too much. Slim and elegant with a fabulous train, I’d say. Shall we start with that?’

Sunny nodded. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Perhaps something off the shoulder to frame that gorgeous mass of hair.’

Sunny barely stopped herself from rolling her own eyes at this description of her unruly mop. Reminding herself that Bryce liked her hair, just as it was, she simply said, ‘Let’s see.’

Maybe because it all seemed rather unreal, it was actually fun, parading the gowns for Bryce, striking poses for his studied opinion. His running commentary on the detail of everything made her laugh and he scored each showing out of ten. Oddly enough, his scores matched her own judgment, demonstrating like minds, which also helped to push any misgivings about her decision aside.

The fifth gown, however, brought the sense of fun to an abrupt halt. It wasn’t exactly a traditional bridal dress, not silk nor satin nor even white, and it didn’t have a train, either. But Sunny loved it and to her eye it looked perfect on her, nothing to be fixed or altered. It also made her feel more…female…than anything she’d ever worn before.

This time she didn’t prance out of the dressing-room to show it off to Bryce. She walked self-consciously, knowing the slinky ankle-length gown in cream garter lace was moulded to her every curve. The long sheer sleeves added an elegant grace and the scooped neckline was just low enough to reveal the uppermost swell of her breasts. The image of a sexy swan floated into her mind and she couldn’t help thinking this was how she would have wanted to look—to feel—if she was marrying for love.

Bryce was not alone on the sofa. Another man had joined him, apparently showing off the contents of an attaché case. They both turned to look at her. Bryce’s face instantly lit up with pleasure.

‘That one!’ he said, almost on a note of awe, his eyes drinking in the whole lovely flow of it on her.

It mightn’t be love but the blaze of desire in his eyes was warming. Sunny slowly twirled around to give him the benefit of every angle, basking in the heat of his approval and the sexual response he stirred in her…needing to take the chill off her heart.

‘Ten out of ten?’ she asked.

‘About ten thousand out of ten!’

‘Good! Then I’ll buy it.’

‘You do that,’ he fervently approved. ‘But first come and have your finger sized for the wedding ring so our jeweler here can get moving on it.’

A wedding ring! A convulsive little shiver ran down Sunny’s spine. This wasn’t a game of fantasy dress-ups. They really were doing this…getting married!

It only took a few moments to get her finger sized. Then she was swept into choosing a bouquet from a book of photographs. There were so many pictures, they became a blur to her. When a bridal nosegay was suggested as the ideal accompaniment to her dress—complimenting it rather than distracting from it, Sunny simply let herself be guided.

It was also suggested that a pretty coronet of flowers matching those in the bouquet, would look better than a veil. Sunny instantly agreed. No veil. Somehow a veil was going too far, a mockery of what a wedding should stand for. Not even for her future children would she wear a veil. She simply couldn’t bear it…Bryce lifting it off her face as though she were a true bride.

No!

She would pledge herself to him bare-faced. Let there be at least that honesty between them.

With everything decided upon, delivery to the hotel was promised within the hour.

Back at the hotel, Bryce had lined up a hairdresser, a beautician and a manicurist to give Sunny every bit of pampering a bride could possibly want. Although the whole process felt more and more like a charade, since it all took place in their suite, it was easy enough to submit to it.

Trays of tempting finger food were brought to her, meant to satisfy any hunger pangs. Champagne was served. Sunny forced herself to nibble a few delicacies since fainting at the altar was hardly a good start to any marriage. The champagne was a good nerve-soother, but she was careful only to sip it occasionally. Being a drunk bride wasn’t a good start, either.

The whirl of activity centred on her kept Sunny from thinking too much. She had to make more choices about her fingernails, her hair, her make-up, how the coronet of flowers was to sit. Only when all the preparations had been completed, and a fully dressed and meticulously groomed bride looked back at her from the mirror, did her nerves stage a revolt against any possible soothing. They plunged straight into an agitated tangle.

All the helpers had retired from setting the scene. The show was about to go on, except it wasn’t a show. It was real, and the lines she would speak—the vows she would take—would affect the rest of her life.

‘You take my breath away.’

Bryce…standing in the doorway…shaking his head as though she were a miracle he couldn’t quite believe in. He took her breath away, too, looking utterly superb in a formal grey morning suit, a touch of cream in his silk cravat and a cream boutonniere to match the exquisite little flowers in her bouquet.

‘Time for our photo call in the chapel studio,’ he said huskily, pushing forward to collect her and take her with him.

Sunny took a deep breath and turned towards him, managing a somewhat shaky smile as she said, ‘I’m ready.’

‘Not quite.’ His smile was a warm caress, driving off the rush of goose bumps on her skin. He took her left hand and slowly slid a magnificent emerald ring onto her third finger. ‘I chose this for you. I hope you like it.’

‘Bryce…’ She could barely choke out his name.

Not a bigger diamond than Derek’s. An emerald…and she felt his green eyes burning into her heart, willing her to take it without question, and wear it because it was his gift to her, his promise which would not be shabbily broken as Derek’s had.

She swallowed hard to remove the constricting lump in her throat. ‘It’s…it’s wonderful. Thank you.’

He wrapped his hand around hers and heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘Let’s go and get married.’

The final act.

Somehow his ring and his hand sealed it for Sunny.

The decision was made…the outcome inevitable.

The half-hour photographic session in the chapel studio seemed to pass in a matter of minutes. Bryce was there with her every second, showing his pleasure in her, making her feel beautiful, making her feel…loved.

And the brilliance of the ring he’d placed on her finger kept dazzling her whenever she rested her hand on his chest or shoulder or next to her bouquet…a pear-shaped emerald—almost a heart—its vivid green hue emphasised by a border of white diamonds set in yellow gold. She had never seen anything like it…so very special, unique…and he’d chosen it for her.

For Bryce to value her so much…she did want to marry him!

It felt right.

They moved on to the chapel.

It was decorated with sumptuous floral arrangements.

A pianist sat at a grand piano, playing Celine Dion’s song—‘I’ve Finally Found Someone.’

A marriage celebrant smilingly beckoned them forward.

Somehow it didn’t matter that the chairs on either side of the aisle were empty. Sunny thought fleetingly of her mother and sisters, but they had had their weddings. This was hers and Bryce’s, and it belonged to them, no one else.

The civil ceremony performed was a simple one. There was no sermon, no gushy sentiments. To Sunny, the words seemed all the more meaningful for their straightforward simplicity.

When Bryce spoke his vows, his gaze remained steadfast on hers, and his voice carried a quiet solemnity that seemed to seep into her soul, spreading a sense of peace and dispelling any worries about a future with him.

She spoke hers just as solemnly, meaning every word of her commitment to him and their marriage. It was very real now. There was no going back from this moment. They would go forward together and make the best of whatever life served out to them.

Bryce had bought two gold wedding rings, one for her, one for him. It touched her that he wanted to display the fact that he was married—a bachelor no more—a husband who cared about his commitment to her.

‘With this ring, I thee wed…’

He had to take off the emerald ring to slide the gold band into place, but the removal was only momentary. Sunny stared down at the dual rings on her finger, fitting perfectly, brightly shining proof that she now belonged to him.

‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’

Such fateful words…

Sunny poured all her hope for a good future with Bryce into the kiss that followed, and from him flowed a fervent eagerness to get on with it.

The wedding certificate was filled out, placed in a special holder, and given to Sunny—a lasting memento of a momentous day. The pianist was playing ‘All The Way’ as they thanked the marriage celebrant and the official witnesses.

They turned as a wedded couple to walk back down the aisle, and the words of the song were running through Sunny’s mind, echoing what she hoped would prove true. At least she wasn’t carrying any false illusions about this marriage. It was a matter of making it right, not expecting it to just turn out that way without having to work at it.

‘Where is the Bryce Templar wedding?’ a woman’s voice shrieked, blowing the music right out of Sunny’s ears.

Her step faltered as Bryce squeezed her hand hard, having come to a halt himself. Not only was tension ripping through him but any trace of a benign expression was gone, replaced by grim anger.

‘Too late? Just finishing?’ the woman’s voice shrilled, then broke into furious determination. ‘We’ll see about that!’

Sunny jerked her gaze from the startling reaction from Bryce, just in time to see the woman burst through the entrance to the chapel, charging at battle pace before coming to a heaving halt at the start of the aisle, her gaze ripping Sunny up and down, then stabbing at Bryce.

‘How could you?’ she screamed at him.

The wild intrusion and the ear-piercing outrage was a total show-stopper. Sunny could only stare at the woman in a tumult of confusion. Who was she and why was she on the attack?

‘How could you do this to me?’ the woman demanded fiercely of Bryce, apparently deciding to ignore the bride beside him as though Sunny were nothing.

‘Very easily, Kristen,’ Bryce answered coldly.

Kristen? He knew her, then? It wasn’t some complete madwoman on the loose?

‘You ruthless, callous pig!’ came the blistering indictment. Her face screwed into vicious fury. ‘You’ll pay for this!’

‘Oh, I expect to,’ Bryce drawled, a fine edge of contempt in every word. ‘But not as much as I would have paid…had I married you.’