He crushed the bra in his palm, his heart hammering. He couldn’t take his eyes off the half-open door. What did she think she was doing?
What would he do if she stepped into the room now, without the dress, without the filmy underwear?
Without warning, two missiles sailed around the door aimed straight for his head. He ducked, then eyed the weapons. Her shoes.
He shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. He was beginning to see that his Cinderella was not the demure, acquiescent creature he’d first assumed.
Chapter Seven
Juliana barely slept, her thoughts consumed by concerns that her father would be seriously implicated in Ross and Lexi’s murders and that she’d made a fatal error by walking out on Hunter last night. Today was supposed to be their wedding day, not that it felt like a joyous occasion when Ross and Lexi were going to be buried tomorrow. Would Hunter tell her to pack her bags? Her father would never forgive her if she didn’t stay with Cort.
But her fears were alleviated when she saw the velvet box from Tiffanys and a dove-gray envelope resting on the pillow beside her. Hunter had entered her room last night, and she hadn’t been aware of it.
The thought that he may have watched her sleep made her tremble. With unsteady hands she opened the envelope first. On his personal stationery Hunter had written, “For Cinderella on our wedding day. Yours always, Hunter.”
Yours always. It sounded like a promise.
And it sounded permanent.
Juliana felt a glow like the first colorful wink of a Christmas tree bulb illuminate inside her. He intended to go through with the wedding, after all. And she could only hope that given time they might come to trust one another completely.
She opened the box and gulped.
Oh, dear.
A huge teardrop-shaped diamond glimmered up at her. Juliana was no expert, but judging from her past experience with brides, she was guessing it was in the six-to eight-carat range.
He shouldn’t have. He really shouldn’t have. The more modest diamond-studded wedding band she’d picked out for herself would have sufficed. But the fact that he’d concerned himself with this detail at all when he was so busy with the investigation gave her reason to believe that Hunter would prove to be a thoughtful husband. And a thoughtful father.
The engagement ring fit her finger perfectly.
But she still felt like a fraud.
HAD SHE CHANGED her mind about marrying him?
Hunter shifted Cort to his other arm and glanced impatiently at his watch as the baby used his three-hundred-dollar silk tie for a burping rag. He paced the length of his living room, gently thumping Cort’s back. Where was Juliana? Should he knock on her door?
He’d had enough of this nonsense about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Marquise and Valentina had barred his earlier attempt to see Juliana. She’d taken a breakfast tray in her room.
Was she still angry about last night? Or was this her way of creating a little prewedding atmosphere for the servants? Valentina had dressed Cort for the occasion in a tuxedo-style sleeper with black velvet tails, which gave Hunter hope that the wedding would take place as planned.
But he couldn’t blame Juliana if she’d changed her mind about going through with the ceremony. Especially after the way she’d walked out on him last night.
He wasn’t about to offer any apologies for asking questions about Ross’s bequest to her father. Two people were already dead and his godson’s life was at stake.
Maybe it had been cowardice to leave the engagement ring on her pillow. Not that there had been anything easy about seeing how beautiful and vulnerable she’d appeared, her Cinderella hair fanned over her shoulders and her body tightly coiled on the edge of the bed as if wishing she could escape the circumstances she’d been caught up in.
And maybe a part of him hadn’t wanted Juliana to read anything more into the ring’s significance than was intended. He couldn’t find fault with the wedding band she’d picked out. It was lovely. But a man in his position could well afford an engagement ring to please his bride.
He paused in midstride as Cort elicited a tiny ungentlemanly burp that thankfully didn’t leave any more residue on his tie. Is that what he’d been doing when he’d instructed Marquise to select a suitable engagement ring for Juliana? Had he been trying to please her—thinking that an expensive diamond ring would make their marriage somehow more palatable to her?
He stifled a groan.
Judging from the way she’d reacted to his questions about her father’s integrity, she probably thought he was attempting to buy her loyalty with the ring.
Hunter eased his tie from Cort’s grasp before the infant strangled him. This was precisely the reason he had no business getting married. Ever. It involved too much uncertainty and risk. Saying “I do” the day before a funeral had to be a bad omen.
But he was doing this for Ross. For Ross’s son.
His anxiety multiplied as he heard a door open down the hall and Marquise’s and Valentina’s murmured exclamations. She was ready. Finally!
Hunter prided himself on his ability to remain emotionally detached and objective in the most trying of circumstances. But there was nothing detached or unemotional about his reaction to Juliana when she appeared in the doorway to the living room.
She looked gorgeous.
Be-still-my-heart gorgeous.
Hunter sucked in his breath as the dazzling impact of Juliana in that short ivory satin dress hit him in the solar plexus, as well as other parts. Her dress was simplicity itself—as if the designer knew that the woman inside was the ornament, not the garment. In her left hand she held a bouquet of blue violets and white roses that kept him from learning whether she’d accepted the ring he’d left on her pillow last night.
He gazed hungrily at the swell of her breasts pushing gently against the bodice, the lithe curves of her legs that were a fantasy unto themselves and the tumble of blond curls escaping from an artless do and felt his body tremble with trepidation.
Juliana had transformed herself into a flesh-and-blood Cinderella, minus the tiara. She was the most delectable woman he’d ever seen.
Never in his life had he felt less like a prince.
Suddenly the prenuptial agreement and his insistence that this marriage be in name only seemed like an incredible joke.
On him.
He could almost hear Ross’s laughter.
Color infused her cheeks like late-blooming summer roses as she shyly met his gaze. “Well, what do you think?”
“I can’t think,” he said honestly, determining that it would be absolutely appropriate to cross the room and kiss her again. For the servants’ benefit, of course.
Marquise and Valentina, both looking jubilant, stood hand in hand in the doorway. Ironically, Hunter found himself wondering whether there would be moments in his marriage to Juliana when they could share the good and the bad with the press of a hand. The idea held a much stronger appeal than he’d ever have believed possible. Right, next he’d be believing in a large furry bunny that left baskets of eggs on doorsteps.
“You look wonderful, Cinderella.”
He took several steps toward her, intending to prove to himself that feeling those pink lips soft and pliant beneath his was something he could master, not be mastered by, but Valentina intercepted him and shook a reproachful finger under his nose.
“No kisses until after the wedding, Hunter. Is bad luck before, yes? Marquise, come, take a picture of the happy couple. And the baby.”
Hunter’s disappointment was far too genuine. The frustration he felt stiffly real. He scowled, unable to take his eyes off Juliana, whose cheeks were blooming scarlet now.
“Are you sure, Valentina? It seems like incredibly bad luck on my part not to be able to kiss her now.”
Valentina scolded him in Spanish and Hunter consoled himself with slipping his arm around Juliana’s waist for a photograph.
Julia
na wiped a dab of drool from Cort’s face with her thumb, then self-consciously lifted her gaze to meet his. “You both look very handsome. Cort’s joining us for the wedding, I hope?”
Hunter couldn’t refuse the soft plea in her eyes. Maybe she needed Cort present as a reminder of the promises they would make to one another today. It occurred to him that perhaps he did, too. He’d alert the security team to the change in plans. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze, all of his nerves alerted to the spark of friction generated by his touch. “Of course. It wouldn’t be right without him. He’s unequivocally our best man.”
Juliana’s smile brought a glow to her face and cast a crack of sunlight into the dark cavern of cynicism harbored deep beneath Hunter’s ribs. “Thank you. And thank you for the ring.” She held out her left hand, where the ring sparkled like a star upon her finger as Marquise snapped another picture. “It was very thoughtful of you. I’ll treasure it always.”
She would? She sounded so sincere Hunter doubted she’d said it for the servants’ benefit. And he doubted a woman who didn’t fawn over zeroes would fawn over carats.
Hunter studied her bent head. There she went confusing him again. Surely she knew he hadn’t taken the time to pick the ring out himself.
Too late, he wished he had.
JULIANA HELD HER TEARS at bay as she and Hunter stood in the chapel of the city clerk’s office where a deputy clerk for the city of New York officiated over the ceremony. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window as if valiantly trying to add a note of jubilance to the occasion. Hunter had been so silent and unapproachable during the limo ride, his arm draped across the back of the seat, his strong fingers resting protectively on Cort’s head. His profile etched with an air of sadness Juliana shared.
Thoughts of Lexi and Ross weren’t far from her heart as she and Hunter solemnly exchanged vows and exchanged rings. Cort, perched on the crook of Hunter’s arm, chirped and cooed through the ceremony like a songbird, making them laugh through their sorrow. Hunter’s lawyer served as their witness.
Juliana’s one regret was that she hadn’t been able to talk to her father this morning. She’d called the hospital twice and the nurse had told her that her father had spent a restless night, but seemed to be sleeping more soundly this morning.
Juliana took his restlessness as an indication that her father was regaining his faculties. Was remembering, perhaps was even experiencing nightmares about the explosion. She’d never felt so far away from him.
But the firm touch of Hunter’s strong fingers on hers, the strength of his voice and Cort’s wide-eyed innocence gave her courage. She wasn’t alone in protecting Cort. She had no doubt that Hunter would do everything in his means to keep them safe. She only found herself foolishly wishing for the unthinkable when Hunter gazed down at her with his piercing azure eyes and promised to love her.
In the quiet beauty of the chapel, with Hunter standing handsome and resolute beside her in a sinfully tailored black Armani suit, Cort secure within the circle of his arms, the truth stole into Juliana’s heart. She’d fallen in love with this man. Completely.
She wanted to share his life with him fully, as a real wife would.
She nearly jerked her hand from his at the realization, then let it remain clasped between his. He was flawed and stalwart. She loved his fierce determination. Loved his selfless dedication to helping others.
Of course, he could never know.
No one could.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the deputy city clerk finished with a dramatic flourish.
Rising up out of the grief and horror of the last few days, Juliana’s heart fluttered on hope-filled wings as Hunter cupped her head with one hand. Any sense of pretense in her shattered as his lips claimed her mouth, branding her with the taste and the scent and the feel of him.
She melted into the warmth of his kiss, abashed by the fierce passion with which she welcomed and returned the seeking, velvety thrusts of his tongue. No one would ever kiss her as he did. The thought of sharing his home and sharing the child he held in his arms made her ache for what could not be.
WHAT THE HELL HAD happened to his apartment? Moreover, what the hell had happened to his life? Hunter wondered, shell-shocked, as Marquise opened the door to what he knew must be his apartment that had somehow been transformed during their absence into an enchanted forest.
He wordlessly transferred Cort into Marquise’s waiting arms. First he’d had to deal with Juliana in that dress, then that insatiable white-hot kiss in the chapel, which had nearly had him shrugging out of his clothes and taking her right there before his lawyer and the deputy city clerk, and now this.
The hallway to their right, which led to the master bedroom, had been darkened and lined with potted trees ablaze with twinkling lights. A footpath of burlap strewn with white long-stemmed roses wound between the trees bordered by banks of purple and blue violets. The aromatic scents of evergreens, roses and violets tinged his every breath. Hunter felt his blood slow and start to drum at his temples.
Through the forest of trees, the glow of candlelight could be seen flickering from his room like a lantern in a window guiding a lost voyager home.
He stood rooted to the marble floor, his mind and his heart waging war over the wisdom of walking down that path with Juliana. With each passing day he was learning that she had many facets to her character beyond courage, an acquiescent smile and beauty. Despite the clarity of their written agreement, she was quietly and thoroughly turning his life upside down and inside out.
He was trapped in a purgatory of his own device.
His body stilled as Juliana’s fingers curled around his hand, delicate and feminine. He could feel her fingers trembling. Was she afraid of his response? Afraid she’d gone too over the top in trying to make their marriage seem genuine?
Hunter swallowed hard. Not for a moment could he hurt her. She’d done her job so well a part of him wished it truly was all just for him.
“Since I couldn’t tear you away from work for a honeymoon just now, I decided to surprise you with one here,” she explained in a bright tone to mask the uncertainty he saw creeping into her beautiful eyes. “Marquise, is everything prepared?”
“Yes, madam. Valentina will see to this young man’s whims. Your honeymoon awaits.”
Juliana tugged on his hand as if to pull him down the path. Hunter finally snapped out of his state. “Not so fast. I believe that tradition demands you be carried over the threshold.” With one quick, effortless movement he lifted her into his arms.
She squealed, then laughed as he pulled her soft, enticing body snugly to his chest. Hunter steeled himself against the erotic sweetness of her curves and the silken feel of her legs hooked over his arm. A wry smile creased his lips as Juliana wrapped one arm around his neck.
Purgatory, plain and simple.
He’d deposit her in his bedroom and sneak into his study. The servants would never know.
He started down the path. “This is quite an amazing feat you’ve wrought. The violets are a nice touch.”
“I thought you’d like them. Very woodsy. In the language of flowers, they stand for faithfulness.”
He pondered the potential significance of that revelation. “What do the white roses stand for?”
“Girlhood and an innocent heart.”
He paused midstep. “And I’m trampling them? How intimidating.”
“You, intimidated? I don’t believe it.” Juliana laughed again.
Hunter, despite the tension and the confusion cording through his muscles, found himself enjoying the sound of her laughter. In fact, enjoying the intimate feel of her in his arms and the faerie-glow of the lights in the trees that reminded him of the dance of lightning bugs on a warm summer’s evening. For the first time, he wondered if Juliana would be happy on FairIsle. Would she hate the isolation of his island home or grow to love the beauty of it as he did? He hugged her to him more tightly and continu
ed down the hallway. “Believe it, Cinderella. I don’t want to trample you.”
Her elegant jaw jutted up and her eyes darkened dangerously as she tilted her head back to look squarely up at him.
“I’m neither innocent, nor a girl. I’m a grown woman,” she said, sounding piqued. “I know full well what I’m getting into. You can put me down now. Valentina and Marquise are in the kitchen with Cort. No one is looking.”
Hunter shook his head. “Not until I carry you over the threshold.” In fact, he was battling a not unwelcome desire to brush his lips along her hairline and whisper in her sexy little ear that he was completely aware she was a grown woman.
A beautiful, enticing woman.
Just what did she have waiting for him in his bedroom?
Juliana settled back in his arms and Hunter couldn’t tell whether she was pleased or annoyed. But he could feel a new tension stiffening her body.
The sound of trickling water and the raucous caw of a crow reached his ears before he crossed the threshold, but it in no way prepared him for the sight which met his eyes. Juliana had turned his bedroom into something out of a dream. Trees ringed the walls creating a clearing, in the middle of which was a white silk tent covering his bed. Burning candles had been artistically placed among a pile of logs to resemble a campfire. And the water fountain positioned beside the tent, he presumed, was a babbling brook. A picnic of delicacies—including champagne on ice—was laid out on a table draped with a red-checkered cloth. And when he listened carefully, he could hear the sounds of a forest—the soft sighing of wind in the trees and the twittering of birds.
A smug smile played at Juliana’s lips. “This is my idea of camping.”
Hunter was speechless. She’d recreated their fictitious first meeting in the Black Forest! But all he could picture was her lying naked in his bed with all that white silk billowing around her, waiting for him. He set her down more abruptly than he’d intended, reminding himself brusquely that he had work to do. Stacks of information to read. A killer to find.
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