He still held her left hand, where he’d placed a simple gold wedding band. The ring had been his mother’s. No diamonds or expensive frills. He was determined to begin this marriage as practically as the reasons that had brought them together.
“Dad, he said you can kiss her,” Andy whispered from behind them, his small voice exasperated.
Jeff, who’d stood in as Kane’s best man and a witness to the ceremony, chuckled. “Yeah, Fielding, we’re waiting.”
Megan laughed nervously, and Kane shot his friend a not-so-subtle look before returning his gaze to Megan. God, how was he ever going to live up to the expectation shimmering in her eyes?
Pushing his doubts aside, he brushed his mouth across hers, a quick, fleeting kiss that only whet his appetite for more. Her lips parted, damp and inviting, but he pulled away, knowing one taste wouldn’t be enough.
“Yeah, Dad, you did it!” Andy said, giving Corey and Tanner a high five. Rushing around Jeff, he gave Kane and Megan a joyful hug that left everyone laughing. Once the embrace ended, he danced around the judge’s chamber singing, “I got a new mom, I got a new mom!”
Grinning at Andrew’s enthusiasm, Megan signed the marriage certificate, then passed the pen to Kane. After a brief hesitation, he wrote his name next to hers, an illegible scrawl that had become his signature over the years.
“Congratulations, Kane,” Jeff said, clapping Kane on the back in masculine camaraderie. “Didn’t think you’d ever tie the knot again.”
Neither did I, Kane thought, returning Jeff’s handshake.
Karen gave Kane an appraising look before placing a sisterly kiss on his cheek. “I knew something was going on between the two of you.” Turning, she gave Megan a friendly hug, welcoming her into the fold. “The both of you look very happy together.”
Kane was happy, he realized, and refused to fight the feeling on his wedding day. What harm was there in enjoying Andrew’s delight, the. company of his only true friends and the way Megan tentatively slipped her hand through his arm and gazed at him with a reverence that nearly stole his breath. Damn, he thought, looking away. He wasn’t worthy of such unconditional devotion.
“Come on, everyone,” Jeff announced, herding them toward the chamber’s double panel doors. “The wedding dinner is on me.”
A half an hour later the group sat in a large booth at Callahan’s, the finest steak house in Linden. After a cursory glance at the menu, Kane ordered the porterhouse steak specialty the waiter had recommended. Once everyone else had ordered, Jeff requested a bottle of expensive wine and sodas for the kids.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Jeff proposed, pouring each of the adults a glass of wine. He raised his glass, and everyone followed suit. “To Kane and Megan. May your love endure good and bad times.”
“Here, here!” Karen clinked her glass to Megan’s and Kane’s, starting a chain reaction around the table that ended with gales of laughter from the boys.
After dinner, Jeff and Karen took Andrew home with them for the weekend, explaining to him that Megan and Kane needed time alone to get acquainted. Without Andrew’s incessant chatter, the drive home was strangely quiet, but an undercurrent of sexual tension hummed between them. They both knew what would happen tonight… the beginning of their honeymoon.
Jeff had insisted that Kane take the next week off and go somewhere with his new bride, but the thought of being alone with Megan for seven days, with nowhere to escape if he needed to, kept Kane from accepting his boss’s generous offer. At home, at least, he was free to come and go if the events of the past week suddenly overwhelmed him or if the thought of the future sent him into a panicked state.
Keeping his gaze trained on the beam of headlights illuminating the road, he turned into his dirt drive and parked the car near the house. Silently, they exited the car and walked toward the porch. Moonlight glittered off a silver ice bucket perched on the porch railing, the neck of a champagne bottle sticking from the rim.
“Looks like the word has spread,” Kane said in a wry tone. He unlocked the front door, flipped on the porch light and came up behind Megan, thrusting his hands deep in his pants pockets. A light evening breeze blew, carrying the feminine, floral scent of his wife. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the fragrant hollow of her neck and forget about the impromptu wedding gift sitting on his porch.
“There’s a card,” she said, picking up the small white envelope propped against the bucket. “Let’s see who it’s from.”
He’d seen the envelope, but he hadn’t been about to touch it. But he was curious as hell who’d signed it. “By all means, let’s.”
“You don’t have to be so flippant about it.” She slipped a manicured nail beneath the flap while giving him a chastising look, tempered by something soft and infinitely sexy.
He pulled on the knot of his tie, loosening it from around his neck. “I just can’t imagine anyone in this town going out of their way to congratulate us.”
She frowned as she quietly read the message. “Well, whoever it is, they want to remain anonymous.” She flipped the card toward him.
Kane’s heart leaped into his throat. He stared at the bold script on the small card with wedding bells adorning one corner. Pure panic swamped him. She gave him a peculiar look, and he knew he had to think fast or sink even faster. “I have horrible night vision,” he said abruptly, squinting at the card. “What does it say?”
Her puzzled expression faded, replaced by a dramatic sigh. “Congratulations and best wishes-a friend” she recited breezily, then stuffed the card into the envelope. Turning, she patted his cheek and grinned sassily. “Your sparkling conversation at Andrew’s birthday party must have won over a few people.”
He wanted to laugh in relief and frustration. Instead, he gently grabbed her wrist, willing away the awful, sickening feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. Rubbing his thumb over the pulse in her wrist, he intentionally gave her something other than that damned card, and his reaction to it, to think about. “Regardless of who sent the champagne, I plan on enjoying it.”
Her lashes fell to half-mast. “Sounds good to me,” she said, her voice throaty.
Reluctantly, he released her. He picked up the ice bucket in one arm, opened the door for her with his free hand, then followed her inside the dark house. He set the champagne on the coffee table, switched on a lamp and shucked his coat and tie. He popped free the first three buttons on his shirt to give him some breathing room.
While he wrestled the plastic cork from the bottle, Megan turned on the stereo to a mellow station playing ballads, adjusting the volume to fill the sudden awkward silence between them.
This was their wedding night, and even though they both knew what the result would be, he didn’t want to rush through the preliminaries leading up to their lovemaking. They had all evening, all weekend, and he wanted to fill himself with every nuance of Megan, savor everything about his wife.
He had no fancy champagne flutes, so he retrieved two glasses from the kitchen and filled them with the bubbly drink. He handed one to her and they clinked them together in a silent toast and drank deeply. Powerless to keep his hands to himself any longer, he took Megan’s glass from her and set the pair next to the ice bucket.
“Isn’t it a tradition that the groom gets to dance with his bride?” he asked, drawing her into his arms without any protest from her. He didn’t claim to be Fred Astaire. He just wanted to hold her, touch her, drown in the light, floral scent of her. In other words, he wanted to drive himself crazy, and dancing close seemed like a damned good start in accomplishing his goal.
Her lithe body flowed into him. She tucked one hand in his and wrapped the other around his neck, a tremulous smile on her lips. “This hasn’t been a very traditional wedding.”
“Depends on whose tradition.”
She laughed throatily and curled tighter against him. “We’re making our own?”
“We could.” He smoothed a strand of hair from her flushed cheek,
curbing the impulse to pull the pins out of her hair and sift his fingers through the silky mass. Soon, he thought. “We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. We should make the best of it.”
Her beautiful smile fell away, and her lashes swept downward in an attempt to hide her emotions. But he knew she was thinking about their conversation about keeping secrets. God, he could give her anything but the truth, a shocking revelation that could easily tear apart the fragile vows that bound them. Coward or not, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Wanting her to forget everything but them, he swept a hand down her back, ran that same hand over her bottom and squeezed. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes flew open, wide with arousal. Her soft sigh rolled into a quiet groan of need. In an instant he was hard and aching.
Tipping her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, he lowered his head and captured her parted lips in a deep, openmouthed kiss that she returned fervently. Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she clung to him. A raging need pounded through him, threatening the tight rein on his control. With effort, he ended the kiss and set her away from him.
They both gasped for breath, but he managed to catch his long enough to say, “If we don’t stop now, we’ll be on that couch making love with half our clothes still on.”
Looking dazed, Megan dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, still damp and swollen from his kiss. He suppressed a groan and the urge to follow through with his threat.
“Megan,” he warned thickly.
She smiled at him, a vixen smile that beckoned and cajoled. “I…I think I’ll go change,” she whispered.
Her sultry invitation was clear, but he didn’t follow her into his bedroom, opting instead to give her some time alone to prepare for their wedding night.
Half an hour and two glasses of champagne later, he entered his bedroom. The lights were off, but the room glowed from the five candles she’d lit and placed on the nightstand and dresser, giving the room a romantic ambience. The sweet scent of vanilla permeated the air, swirling around his senses like a potent aphrodisiac.
She’d turned down the bed, the bedspread folded neatly at the end of the mattress and crisp sheets pulled aside. Already she’d made her mark on his bedroom, having moved her clothes and personal belongings there that morning.
He heard a sound behind him and turned. His mouth went as dry as dust as he stared at the apparition in front of him. Nothing in his wildest fantasies came close to setting his blood on fire as the sight that greeted him.
This was no fantasy. Megan was a flesh-and-blood woman, sexy, sensual and tempting. She wore a silky peach nightie that reached mid-thigh, the flowing hem flirting enticingly as she shifted on bare feet. He dragged his gaze up, over the shadowed valley at the juncture of her thighs to where sheer lace cupped and molded her breasts.
Her hair spilled around her shoulders and shimmered like burnished gold in the candlelight. He nearly groaned at the sweet promises in her gaze. In that moment he selfishly wanted to take everything she was willing to give. And he hated himself because he had nothing to give her in return. His heart was empty, his soul too full of dark secrets to ever be redeemed.
But tonight he didn’t want to disappoint her. Tonight he’d be everything she wanted him to be, if only for a few hours.
“C’mere,” he murmured.
She moved forward, a hint of vulnerability passing over her features, and stopped an arm’s length away. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”
Not a chance, sweetheart. “I took our wedding vows seriously, and I meant what I said about a divorce. Until death us do part.”
Her head tilted. “I mean about a marriage of convenience.”
He laughed and slowly circled her. “I’m just a man, Megan. And like any man, I want my wife.”
Standing behind her, he cupped her smooth shoulders in his palms and turned her so she could see their reflections in the dresser mirror. He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her hips, tucking her bottom against the ridged length confined behind the zipper of his slacks. He heard her soft indrawn breath, and a smile tugged his lips.
“Nervous?” he asked, his mouth skimming her ear.
“A little.” She shivered and rested her head on his shoulder, her back arching when his palms moved over the silk covering her belly. His warm, searching hands stopped just beneath the slope of her breasts, his fingers spreading wide over her rib cage.
Her breathing deepened. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, for me, too,” he admitted. Nuzzling her neck, he continued to explore the dips and curves of her body through silk, deliberately avoiding all the places he knew ached for his touch.
“I’m hardly a virgin,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and unfocused in the mirror. “But, well, it still feels like it’s my first time.”
“It is your first time,” he said, turning her to face him. “With me.”
“Yes.” Reaching for his hand, she pressed a damp kiss in the center, then leisurely dragged his palm down her throat. Her needy, unguarded gaze burned him to his soul. Brazenly, she pressed his hand to the full, taut swell of her breast.
His fingers flexed around the soft mound of flesh, and her nipple hardened. “I’m yours, Kane,” she whispered, candlelight and emotion softening her gaze. “Any time you want me.”
His heart gave a crazy little leap. “That’s quite an invitation.”
She stared deep into his eyes. “As your wife, I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”
Lifting his hand from her breast, he rubbed the coarse pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Anything?” The possibilities of such a generous overture aroused more than his interest.
An intoxicating combination of trust and desire welled within the bottomless depths of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Take the nightgown off for me. Slowly.”
The shock he’d been expecting never materialized. Instead, his wife surprised him with her sassy, very husky comeback. “I wore it for you. You take it off.”
He chuckled ruefully. Megan would never be one of those meek, docile wives who obeyed a husband’s orders. No, her candid, no-holds-barred attitude was the reason they were married-she was strong-spirited, determined and damned sexy while doing it. In some ways her straightforward approach scared the hell out of him. Now, alone in his bedroom, it excited him beyond his wildest dreams.
Wanting to beat her at her sensual game, he lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. Her touch singed him even through the cotton of his shirt, and his heart responded with a distinct thump beneath her palm. She looked at him, questioning eyes filled with heat and undisguised passion.
Knowing once he removed that flimsy gown he wouldn’t be able to maintain his control, he brought her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll take your nightgown off after you undress me.”
Her mouth curled in a smile so full of seduction he knew he was in trouble no matter who undressed who first.
Yep, big mistake, he thought seconds later, after she’d pushed his shirt off his shoulders and her lips found that sensitive spot just below his ear. She worked his belt loose and lowered his zipper. Within seconds she’d swept off his clothes, her hands caressing every inch she exposed until he stood completely naked before his wife.
The spark of desire in her eyes nearly unraveled the last thin threads of his control. “Your turn to pay,” he murmured.
Smiling, she ran her hands over his chest and around his neck. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
Hoarse laughter escaped him. “You’re a nymph.”
Her eyes grew as dark as navy, the candlelight flickering off the uncertainty that suddenly appeared in the velvet depths. “Are you complaining?” Her question was half teasing, half serious.
He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I never did like silent, predictable lovemaking. You’re anything but predictable, sweetheart.”
&nbs
p; Reaching for the hem of her nightie, he shimmied the silky material up her thighs, across her belly and over her head, tossing the gown aside. Lowering his mouth to hers in a long, lingering kiss, he maneuvered her to the bed and guided her onto the soft mattress. He followed her down and pinned her there, the weight of his body settling between her spread thighs. Meshing their fingers at the side of her head, he stared into her eyes, an incredible feeling of want and need enveloping him.
Megan was awash with feeling, a swirl of thrilling sensations that made her breathless, dizzy and melting inside. She wanted to run her hands down his back, urge him to complete that downward move that would end the torment, but his hands kept hers locked. She wanted, oh, God, she wanted… A whimper of frustration and need tangled in her throat.
His eyes glowed like hot emerald coals from the reflection of dying candlelight. “You’ll do anything for me?” he asked in a low, rough voice, reminding her of the promise she’d made to him earlier.
She’d give him her heart and soul, if only he’d ask. But that wasn’t what he was after. No, he wanted her total surrender. Through the passionate haze clouding her senses, she wondered how he intended to take it and experienced a shimmer of excitement that stripped all her inhibitions. “Anything,” she whispered.
“Wrap your legs around me. Tight.”
She did, and came undone when he consummated their marriage in a ritual as old as time and as sacred as the vows that made them husband and wife. He took her with a fierce kind of tenderness that touched her heart and brought her more pleasure than she thought she was capable of experiencing. When the tempest ebbed he kissed her so sweetly she wanted to weep. Her big, ferocious warrior with all his wounds and scars was the gentlest, most giving man she’d ever known.
But he’d never believe it.
Gently turning her, he tucked her body against his and wrapped his arms around her. “I think, Mrs. Fielding,” he murmured sleepily into her ear, “that I could definitely get used to this.”
I’m counting on it, Megan thought, her heart swelling with love and hope.
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