Читать книгу In Bed With...Collection - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 82

SAM WAS NOT sick with envy during the wedding ceremony. She was sick with excitement. The way Tommy had looked at her as she’d walked up the aisle kept buzzing through her mind and churning her insides to such a pitch she wasn’t even aware that the bride and groom were up to exchanging vows over the wedding ring until Miranda turned to give Sam her bouquet to hold.

In no time at all the pastor was declaring Nathan and Miranda “Husband and Wife,” and they were moving towards the table at the back of the gazebo to register the marriage in the official book and sign the certificate.

Sam’s heart was thumping hard as she and Tommy followed. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him, afraid she had read too much into his expression, and now that the surprise of her appearance was over, there might only be the usual teasing glint in his eyes.

“Quite a revelation,” he murmured.

“What?” The word tripped out before she could catch it back. Desperate to know if he was baiting her, as usual, she risked a quick glance at his face.

“You in all your glory,” he answered, his eyes warmly caressing, not even a twinkle of mischief.

“Miranda’s choice,” she mumbled, thrown into hot confusion by his open admiration and hopelessly inept at accepting such a personal compliment.

“You grace it with high distinction,” came the smooth rejoinder, his voice sounding sincere.

“Thank you,” she managed this time, grateful for a second chance to give a gracious response.

He lightly grasped her elbow to steer her around behind the now seated bride. She had never felt so conscious of a touch. Was he just being gentlemanly on this formal occasion or was he wanting physical contact with her?

“You look very dashing yourself in formal wear,” she said, giving in to the urge to show she could be generous, too.

“Mmmh…may I take that as a vote of approval?”

As he brought them to a halt, ready to move in as witnesses when required, she caught his quirky smile out of the corner of her eye and instantly hissed, “I’m sure you’ll have every unattached woman here slathering over you in no time flat.”

Before she could regret the tart remark, he leaned over and whispered, “You have my permission to beat them off.”

She flinched at the tingle of his breath on her bared ear. “Why should I do that?” snapped straight off her wayward tongue, pride blowing resolution away.

“Because I’m your partner for the day.”

Provoked by this dutiful stance she flashed him an arch look. “I might fancy someone else.”

His eyes simmered darkly at her. “I’ll beat off anyone who comes sniffing around you.”

This was a far more satisfying image than her beating women off him. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I don’t want you to feel tied to me, just because you’re the best man and I’m the bridesmaid.”

“Ah, but I want to be tied to you today, Samantha.”

He accompanied his soft, seductive drawl of her full name with a look that challenged everything female in her, and that same everything started quivering with delight. She hadn’t fooled herself. He was seeing her as a desirable woman. And if she didn’t stop these stupidly self-defeating reactions, she’d spoil this new view of her. Tommy was offering what she wanted, even if it was only for today, and if she didn’t take it and run with it she’d be an absolute fool.

She poured all her wild hopes into a smile, desperately needing to negate her prickliness. “Then I’ll be pleased to have your company, Tommy.”

“I shall hold you to that,” he murmured, a triumphant twinkle lighting his eyes.

Sam’s heart leapt joyously at this evidence of serious intention. So lost was she in the magical possibility of secret dreams teetering on the edge of reality, she almost jumped when Nathan called to her.

“Your turn to sign,” he said, rising from the table and waving her forward. He smiled, his blue eyes brilliant with inner happiness. “You make a beautiful bridesmaid, Sam.”

“Doesn’t she?” Miranda chimed in, turning her radiance on both Sam and Tommy.

“Ravishing!” Tommy roundly declared, nudging her forward.

“Thank you,” she rushed out breathlessly, Tommy’s “Ravishing!” ringing in her ears and dancing through her mind. He hovered beside her as she sat and wrote her signature where the pastor pointed and the pen wobbled on the page, her hand seemingly disconnected to the task required, trembling with the excitement coursing through her.

When she’d finished, Tommy took the pen from her, not bothering to sit down, his arm encircling her bare shoulders as he leaned over the table and scrawled his signature with swift and masterful con-fidence. She stared at his handsome profile, almost disbelieving the feather-light caress of his fingers on her upper arm. He’d never touched her like this, as though wanting to feel her skin. Despite the heat of the afternoon, the tingling caress was causing her to break out in goose bumps.

“There! All witnessed!” he said, reminding her of where they were and why.

She jumped up, dislodging his hold, too superconscious to let it continue. As it was, her heart was pounding erratically as she swung around to the bride and groom. There was Nathan, a strong mountain of a man, a sound and steady friend whose kindness to her at times could only have meant he knew how she felt about his brother.

Was it all right now? she wanted to ask him. Could she trust what was happening? Was this playboy stuff from Tommy or was he intent on starting a different relationship with her? No more kid sister.

Whether Nathan read the appeal right, the tormenting uncertainty in her eyes, Sam didn’t know, but he gave her a reassuring smile and a nod of approval which momentarily soothed the turbulence inside her. Impulsively, she stepped over and poured her emotion into a congratulatory hug which he warmly returned.

“I hope you two have the happiest of lives together,” she said with genuine fondness for the newly wedded couple, then turning to the woman who’d won his heart. “And, Miranda, you must truly be the most beautiful bride in the whole world.”

“She is to me,” Nathan said with such love, tears pricked Sam’s eyes.

Would Tommy ever say that of her?

The photographer summoned them to stand in a group in front of the gazebo, facing the wedding guests. Remembering her bridesmaid duties, Sam checked that Miranda’s veil was falling right from the single white rose fastened in the gleaming blonde chignon, and that the beaded hem of her fabulous wedding gown was displayed properly along the folds of the graceful train.

“Enough! That’s perfect,” Tommy murmured, scooping her with him to stand in line for the photographs.

His arm remained around her waist, coupling them very much together, and even when the photographer was satisfied with the shots he’d taken, and the pastor announced that guests could now come forward to congratulate the bride and groom, Tommy did not release his hold, drawing her aside with him, his hand applying a light pressure around the curve of her hip.

“They look great together, don’t they?” he said warmly, watching his mother and Jared bestowing a kiss on Miranda and pressing Nathan’s hand.

“Do you mind losing her to Nathan?” The question slipped out, voicing the long insecurity which had been fed by Tommy’s interest in other women.

He frowned. “Why would you think that? I never had Miranda to lose.”

Somehow Sam couldn’t let it go. “You were attracted to her when she first came to manage the resort,” she stated flatly.

Beautiful, elegant Miranda, with her swishing blonde hair, lushly curved body, and fascinating green eyes hiding the mystery of her private life, keeping her distance while Tommy chased…Sam had been in knots, expecting Miranda to succumb, but she never did.

He slid her a look that challenged her judgment. “Was I?”

The taunting little question spurred her to remind him, “You kept asking her out with you.”

His eyes seemed to mock her knowledge of those invitations even as he sardonically replied, “Curiosity. She was in charge of my resort. I wanted to know what made her tick…a woman like that, keeping herself to herself. You were curious, too, remember? It was you who tackled her head-on about the family she never spoke about.”

She flushed at the memory. “That was awful. I was so grateful to Nathan for smoothing it over with tales of your family.”

“At the time, I backed you up, pressing the question. Simple curiosity, Samantha. I’m not attracted to cool blondes.” His mouth curved into a slow, sensual smile. “I’m much more drawn to a fiery combination.”

Sam’s heart flipped. The flush in her cheeks deepened. She just wasn’t used to Tommy turning this kind of attention on her, and as much as she had craved it, she found herself in wretched confusion as to whether it was real or not. Somehow it felt wrong that a superficial change in her appearance should spark such a difference in his behaviour towards her.

Before she could sort out her own ambivalence, her family came streaming towards her, having been close behind Elizabeth and Jared in offering their congratulations to the bride and groom. The friendship between the Kings and the Connellys went back a long way—three generations—both families running cattle stations in the Kimberly, and Sam had been the only girl born to either family in the current generation.

Three sons to Elizabeth and Lachlan.

A daughter and two sons to Robert and Theresa Connelly.

Sam reluctantly acknowledged it was true, what Elizabeth had said earlier. All her growing-up years she had wanted to be a boy—or every bit as good as a boy in her father’s eyes. Until Tommy had started stirring other feelings in her, feelings that she hadn’t known how to handle then. Or now.

The distraction of her family was welcome, familiar faces, people who loved her. Her father looked very distinguished in a suit, his mane of thick white hair—all red gone out of it in recent years—curling away from his still ruggedly handsome face. Strange, she had been the only one to inherit his hair and blue eyes. Her younger brothers, Greg and Pete were built like their father, but had their mother’s dark colouring, and both of them looked very attractive, all brushed up for the wedding. Her mother, as always, was the essence of femininity, her dainty figure encased in a peach lace dress.

Robert Connelly’s voice boomed out from his big, barrel chest. “Well, look at you!” His hands grasped Sam’s arms, squaring her up for his beaming pride and admiration. “So much for your mother’s accusation I was making a man of you by letting you have your head about doing what you wanted.” He turned triumphantly to his wife. “My Sam can turn into a beautiful woman any time she likes.”

Her mother regarded her with more whimsical bemusement. “I couldn’t imagine you looking more lovely, Samantha,” she said quietly. “It was like a dream, watching you walk up the aisle.”

“I guess dreams can come true sometimes, Mum,” Sam wryly answered, still helplessly insecure about Tommy’s response to her.

They stayed chatting about the wedding for a while before spotting friends and moving away to catch up with them. Her brothers lingered to make teasing remarks to Tommy about keeping their suddenly glamorous sister under his wing. He blithely replied he was the best man to take care of her, and under his wing was precisely where she belonged, this claim being accompanied by a light hug, plunging her straight into more emotional and physical turmoil as the length of her body was drawn against his, her arm pressed to his chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

Her brothers laughed and wished Tommy the best of luck as they drifted off in search of some luck of their own. Sam was inwardly reeling from the electric awareness of being this close to him, feeling the strong masculinity of his physique, smelling the subtly enticing cologne he must have dabbed on his neck, sensing the strong current of energy that was so much a part of his vibrant personality.

“Do you know this rose in your hair is right in line with my mouth?” he softly mused. “I have the most extraordinary urge to pluck it out with my teeth and sweep you into a wild tango.”

“Don’t!”

Jolted into tilting her head to look up at him, she lost the train of protest, any further words dying in her throat. His face was perilously close to hers, the smooth clear-cut line of his jaw that invited stroking, the mouth perfectly shaped for kissing, a nose that seemed to embody a flare of passion, dark eyes dancing with wickedness and fringed with thick long lashes that were sinfully seductive, eyebrows slanting into a diabolical kick and the springy black curls that made him look so dangerously rakish.

“Such appealing eyes,” he murmured. “Why have I never seen them appealing to me before, Samantha?”

Her heart was in her mouth. She couldn’t answer.

“I would always have answered an appeal from you,” he went on. “As I will now. Your rose is safe…until you want to match me in wanting to let your hair down and…”

“Tommy!”

The sharp call of his name broke the intimate weave of his words around her heart. It was a woman’s voice, claiming his attention. Sam’s head jerked towards it and her stomach contracted as she saw who the woman was…Janice Findlay, Tommy’s most recent flame, and flaming she was in the look she gave Sam, a scorching dismissal that left her burning.

Before today, Sam would have instantly disengaged herself and left Tommy to his playmate. Never would she have contested any woman for his attention. But it seemed to her his words had given her the right to stay at his side and how he handled this situation would tell her more of where she stood with him than anything else.

“Ah, Janice,” he addressed her coolly, his arm hugging Sam more tightly, apparently determined on preventing her from moving away. “Enjoying the wedding?” he casually added, as though Janice Findlay was no more than another guest to him.

Her auburn hair came out of a bottle, Sam decided, noting the darker roots at the side parting. So much for Tommy’s taste for a fiery combination. Nevertheless, Janice was certainly aiming to heat up the opposite sex, the low V-neckline of her slinky black dress putting her prominent breasts on a provocative display.

“It’s quite unique, darling…the setting, the Outback touch with the didgeridoos…my parents thought it marvellous,” she drawled in a sexy voice. “Absolutely honoured to have been invited.”

“I’m glad they’re having a good time.” A strictly polite reply.

Undeterred, Janice offered him a smile that reeked of provocative promise. “I notice drink waiters are circulating with glasses of champers. Come and have some bubbly with me, darling. You must be dying of thirst.”

“Janice, I’m sure you can find someone else to share your fondness for champagne.” There was a steely note driven through the smooth suggestion, and it emphasised his stance as he added, “As you can see…I’m busy.”

Even Sam caught her breath at the direct and unmistakable rejection. As much as she wanted to be put first, it seemed a cruel set-down to a woman who probably had every right to expect him to keep fancying her.

Janice’s smile twisted into bitter irony. “Off with the old, on with the new, Tommy?”

“The old ended some time ago, as well you know,” he retorted quietly. “Making a scene won’t win you anything, Janice.”

“Won’t it?” Her chin tilted up belligerently, her eyes flashing fiery venom, shot straight at him, then targeting Sam. “Well, just don’t think you’re sitting pretty, Samantha Connelly,” she drawled derisively. “You won’t win anything, either.”

With a scornful toss of her hair, she turned her back on them and headed straight for one of the drink waiters. She snatched a glass of champagne off his tray, held his arm to stay his progress through the milling crowd, threw the drink down her throat, replaced the empty glass and grabbed another full one.

“At that rate she’ll be under a table before the reception dinner begins,” Tommy muttered in dark vexation.

“You were…rather cutting,” Sam commented, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the woman he’d cast aside. She knew all too well the frustration of wanting Tommy King, and not being able to reach into him.

“She was unforgiveably rude in her self-serving attempt to cut you out,” he stated tersely.

“Perhaps she felt she had just cause.”

Tommy swung her around to face him, anger blazing from his eyes. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”