The Bride’s Proposition

by Day Leclaire

  "You're wrong," he corrected "This will be a real marriage. You just haven't figured that out, yet." He carefully positioned the veil on Penelope's head and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "And I'm doing it because you don't have anyone else to take care of these sorts of details. If your mother were alive-or mine, for that matter-she'd have made sure you had something old and something new."

  "Something borrowed and something blue?" she finished the rhyme in a husky voice.

  "Coming right up." He reached into the box and removed two gold and lapis lazuli butterfly clips to hold the veil in place. "And these, cara, take care of new and blue. I picked them up before coming here."

  Tears gathered on the tips of her lashes as he fastened the clips. "Now I'm too embarrassed to give you my gift"

  He smiled at her, his gaze full of a delicious tenderness. "Come, sweetheart. Show me what you bought."

  Reluctantly she handed over the small round canister.

  "I hope your sense of humor is intact. Otherwise I'm in serious trouble."

  It only took a moment for him to shred the paper. His shout of laughter went a long way toward easing her tension. "Tarnish remover!'

  A hesitant smile quivered at the corners of her mouth. "Think it'll work?"

  "If you're the one applying it, I'm positive it will."

  "Mr. Salvatore? Ms. Wentworth?" the clerk interrupted. "The judge will see you now."

  "Ready?" Penelope asked.

  Stefano took her hand in his. "I've been ready almost from the start."

  She wished she had the chance to question him about what he meant, but there wasn't an opportunity before they were ushered into the judge's chambers. Aside from exchanging a few pleasantries, the judge got right to the business at hand. The entire procedure was shockingly brief, though Penelope found the vows they spoke more powerful and moving than she'd anticipated. By the time they were pronounced man and wife, she was in tears again.

  Stefano brushed the telltale moisture from her cheeks.

  "Don't cry, cara. Be happy."

  "I am," she managed to say through her tears. "I'm very happy."

  Gathering her close he kissed her as though he really were a bridegroom in love with his bride, rather than a business partner entering a temporary contract. And then he said something that truly panicked her. Smiling down at her with a passion she couldn't mistake, he whispered, "You're mine now, Mrs. Salvatore."

  ****

  "Well, it's done."

  The words didn't sound quite as casual as Penelope had hoped. Instead there was a self-conscious hesitancy to them. Perhaps it had something to do with the way Stefano had said, "You're mine now, Mrs. Salvatore" the minute the wedding vows had been spoken. Or perhaps it was because this was her wedding night and the idea of spending it with Stefano filled her with an odd combination of urgency and anxiety.

  Picking up Honor, he put the kitten in the hallway before firmly closing the door on its disgruntled meow. "Yes, it's done."

  She removed the veil her husband had given her a few short hours ago and placed it gently on his dresser, along with the butterfly clips that had held it in place. It still came as a distinct shock to realize she had a husband. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, aware that he'd been watching her every move with unwavering concentration.

  "Now that we're married, I guess that means I'm in charge," she thought to mention.

  He lifted an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

  She faced him. "When we were at Benjamin's hammering out the conditions of our marriage, you agreed that I'd be in charge of all marital decisions."

  "Did I?" He shrugged off his tux jacket and draped it over a chair. "That was rather foolish of me."

  "I wouldn't call it foolish. I think it was a sound business decision on your part."

  "No doubt." He stretched, his dress shirt pulled taut across a broad chest and impressive shoulders. She hastened to look away. "No doubt you also think I made it based on careful analysis and rational deduction."

  "No," she corrected with a gruff chuckle. "That's how I make decisions. You tend to allow emotion to interfere with your decision-making process."

  He greeted the assessment with a bland smile. "Do I?"

  "Yes, you do." The expression in his eyes unnerved her. But she didn't dare back down. It would give him the upper hand. And after only a few short hours of marriage, that would never do. "For instance, your wedding gifts were an emotional decision. Romantic, but emotional."

  "Did you like them?"

  She couldn't lie. Not about that. "Very much."

  "I wanted our marriage to be memorable."

  "You mean our business arrangement."

  He closed the distance between them. "No, cara." He slid his arms around her and pulled her close. "I mean our marriage." He lowered his head and brushed a kiss along her jaw-line.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, shivering beneath the delicate caress.

  "I'm kissing my wife."

  "I...I didn't tell you to do that."

  "True. You also didn't tell me not to. I assume you're pleased at my show of initiative?" he prodded.

  She could feel herself giving in and fought it. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "I think it's an excellent one."

  "You're planning on consummating our relationship, aren't you?"

  "The thought had occurred to me."

  "And if I don't want to?"

  He lifted his head. "Are you ordering me to stop?" Something in his voice warned her to tread very, very carefully.

  "I'd rather not make it an order."

  "Good decision."

  "But I will try to talk you out of it. You must see that this isn't terribly practical. There's no reason-no sound business reason, that is-for us to sleep with each other."

  "Then we won't sleep. We'll just make love." Before she could formulate any further arguments, he urged her backward toward the bed. She sank onto the mattress and Stefano knelt on the floor in front of her. Cupping her face, he feathered another kiss across her mouth. "Trust me, Nellie."

  "You know I do."

  "Then admit that what's between us has nothing to do with business. For once in your life admit that there's a time and place for a sheer emotional response to a situation, and we've discovered that perfect time and place."

  She shook her head, fighting the truth. "This isn't what I intended to have happen. I planned to marry so I could protect my business. I wasn't supposed to feel..." She looked at him fighting tears. "I wasn't supposed to want you."

  "Then why choose me?" he demanded urgently. "Why didn't you marry someone off the streets? Someone who'd sign a prenup and leave quietly after you'd gained control of Crabbe and Associates?"

  "Because I didn't trust just anyone. I trusted you."

  His brows drew together. "You were so certain of me?"

  Did he doubt it? It was her turn to cup his face, to trace the hard, masculine sweep of jaw and cheekbone with fingers that showed a distressing tendency to tremble. "I thought so after I read my investigator's report and realized how badly everyone had misjudged you. Once I met you, I knew. How anyone could suspect you'd commit an unethical act is beyond comprehension."

  "You're that sure?" His control slipped for an instant, allowing her a glimpse of the torment beneath his stoic exterior.

  "I'm that sure," she confirmed with utter sincerity.

  He thanked her with a long, lingering kiss. "And I'm sure that I've never met a woman I want more than you."

  She caught the shift in his mood, the gathering tension along his chest and shoulders and the burn of hunger in his gaze. Her breath grew shallow as she waited for him to make the next move. And then waiting seemed an impossible task. She knew what she wanted, as clearly as Stefano had known. He might prefer to wrap it up in pretty emotions, but she could be practical. She needed a physical outlet for the passions straining for release. It didn't mean she'd lost control. It simply meant that she'd chosen t
he best of several options, the one that would offer them both the most benefit.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, "If I kiss you, I can get you out of those clothes in no time."

  Joy exploded in his gaze, threatening her precious control. "Then I suggest you kiss me."

  She didn't require any further prompting. Wrapping her arms around him, she availed herself of the most delicious mouth she'd ever sampled, plundering the depths with insatiable, biting kisses. He matched her, the give-and-take between them rapidly escalating out of control. When she opened her eyes again, she'd managed to bare Stefano to the waist. To her astonishment, her suit jacket had also disappeared, leaving only a scrap of silk and lace behind-one of the pieces of lingerie Stefano had sent a few short weeks earlier.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

  She doubted that. She couldn't possibly be as beautiful as Stefano. His bronzed skin traced its origins to warm, flavorful Mediterranean climes, the taut expanse layered over corded sinew and banded muscle. She ran her fingers across his shoulders and down developed biceps, feeling the ripple of power beneath her hands. He was strong of form and character, sweeping aside all restraint with a simple touch. A smile of acknowledgment teased her mouth. At least, he swept aside her restraint.

  He sketched the lacy edge of her bra, and her nipples tightened, betraying the intensity of her desire. "Tell me what you want," he urged.

  "Take it off me."

  Her bra fell away and he captured the weight of her breasts in his palms, circling the tips with repeated sweeps of his thumbs, catching each of her helpless moans with a drugging kiss. "More?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes. Much, much more."

  Her skirt disappeared next, slipping off her hips with a bit of masculine assistance, and she fell backward onto the bed, splayed across the black comforter. It had to be the most decadent feeling she'd ever experienced. As much as she'd like to blame it on the silk beneath her, she knew it was due to the man standing in front of her. Just looking at him filled her with a desperate want.

  He stripped off his clothing and joined her on the mattress, kissing a path from her stocking-covered calves to the spot on her thighs where the nylons ended. Her reaction hit hard. A bone-deep shuddering tensed every muscle while a burning heat coalesced in loins damp with desire. Ever so gently he cupped her and she arced in reaction, her hands fisting in the comforter. She strained to speak, to move, to plead for a possession she'd wasted so much time denying.

  She managed to push out a single word. "Please." "I will," he promised. It only took a moment to strip away the last of her clothing. "I want you, you know that, don't you?"

  A chuckle escaped, low and deep and darkly intimate. "A very logical reaction given the circumstances."

  "I thought so."

  The laughter died away, replaced by a painful yearning. "Kiss me, Stefano."

  "As a business associate or as your husband?"

  She reached for him, pulling him into her arms. "As my husband. As the man I trust with all my secrets."

  He responded instantly to her comment. He took her mouth in a kiss that drove every thought from her head, staking a claim she couldn't refute. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, sweeping a path of fire across her breasts and down her belly. Tracing tantalizing circles from the inside of her thighs upward to the moist core of her. Delving into her warmth until it grew to an inferno. Coaxing. Driving. Tempting her until she was incoherent with need.

  "What do you want?" he whispered the insidious words.

  "More. I want more."

  "Why?"

  "Because."

  "Tell me, cara."

  She shook her head in confusion. Why didn't he take her? Why didn't he give them what they both needed?

  "Please, Stefano. I don't understand what you're asking."

  "Yes, you do. I'm asking you to give all of yourself to me."

  "You have it! You know you do."

  "No, sweetheart. You're holding back." He gathered her close. "I know you're afraid. Don't be."

  "I still don't understand. What do you want from me?" The words were torn from her, desperate and pleading. "Just tell me and it's yours."

  "I want your surrender. You said you trust me. If you do, then don't hold anything back. Surrender yourself. I'll protect you. I swear I will."

  She couldn't answer. Not with words. Instead she rose to meet him, arching upward and opening herself to him. He surged into her warmth, joining them indelibly with one deep thrust. She'd never felt anything so incredible or so natural. They locked together, forming a whole, mated into one.

  "Give yourself to me, my love," he urged once more.

  "All of yourself."

  Even as she abandoned physically to him, she fought his demand, desperate to keep some small part safely shut away. He cupped her buttocks, lifting her, filling her, taking her again and again. From deep inside, from a closely protected place, an unfurling began, a glorious blossoming. It leaked out, then poured out, streaming forth in hungry waves. The tidal force surged through her, sweeping past every defense and all barriers, ripping her apart until she had no choice but to do as he'd asked and surrender that darkest place.

  "Stefano!" It was a cry of ultimate capitulation and they both knew it.

  He drove into her a final time, melding them, fusing their bodies and hearts and souls. Understanding hit hard, an alarming awareness that she'd been changed in some fundamental, irrevocable way. She battled the inevitable with ever fiber of her being, but it was impossible to win this particular war. And as that knowledge branded her, she lost control. Utterly. The Penelope that had been no longer existed. In her place Nellie rose, eclipsing what had come before. It was Stefano-her husband-who had wrought the change. And in that moment of deepest passion she called to him, whispered to him words that bound them together.

  She gave to him the sweetest of promises--her unconditional surrender.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN Penelope awoke, morning light had just begun to creep into Stefano's bedroom. Their bedroom, she hastened to correct herself. They were married now, committed for an indefinite period by the words they'd spoken and the physical bond they'd forged during the night. Slipping from beneath the covers, she searched through the suitcase she'd brought with her the day before. It contained a small selection of clothing that would suffice until she could make arrangements to have the rest of her possessions moved to the penthouse suite.

  At the very bottom of her case, she found a short cotton nightgown trimmed in eyelet lace-a compromise she'd found amusing when she'd purchased the garment, since it offered the cotton she preferred along with the lace Stefano found so appealing. Slipping it over her head, she gathered up her glasses, a notepad, and a pen, and returned to bed. Honor slipped into the room and clawed his way onto the mattress, curling up in her lap. She stroked his cream-and-yellow striped fur, soothed by the buzzing rumble vibrating through the kitten.

  Flipping open the notepad, she frowned at the blank page as she collected her thoughts. She wanted to jot down a few notes before Stefano awoke. Just one or two reminders of how she hoped their marriage would proceed, because one thing she knew for certain-it couldn't continue as it had started. That decided she began her list, becoming swiftly engrossed.

  "Item number three's acceptable, but I flat-out refuse to have anything to do with number one."

  She started at the sound of Stefano's sleep-roughened voice, her pen gouging a hole in her paper. Honor squawked an indignant protest before hopping off the bed in search of a more comfortable-and less jumpy place to nap.

  "I didn't realize you were awake," Penelope said, shooting him an uneasy glance.

  "Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn't have put this on." He hooked his finger around the strap of her nightgown and tugged. "Not when you knew I'd have to go to all the trouble of removing it again!'

  "Don't bother."

  "Oh, it's no bother." His eyes looked downright wicked, a trick of the daw
n light, no doubt. How unnerving. "I can't help but notice that it's cotton."

  "I like cotton."

  "You didn't yesterday."

  She capped her pen and flipped her notebook closed.

  "Yesterday was an aberration."

  "I’d rather you not refer to our wedding day as an aberration." Folding his arms behind his head he yawned, looking entirely too large and male and invasive. "So why do you want to change the direction of our marriage?"

  She shoved her glasses on top of head. Considering Stefano's tone of voice, she preferred having him a bit out of focus. It seemed safer somehow. "I don't think this is the appropriate time to discuss-"