The Marriage Campaign (Harlequin Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘Are you going to tell us what this is all about?’ Gabbi asked curiously.

  ‘I left Dominic’s gift at my apartment.’

  ‘You could have given it to him later,’ Gabbi rationalised.

  ‘Yes,’ Francesca agreed, ‘I could. Except it wouldn’t be the same.’

  Thirty minutes later the limousine drew to a halt at the apex of Dominic’s driveway, and Francesca slid out from the rear seat to stand still as Gabbi and Katherine ran a last-minute check on the exquisitely pale champagne gold sheath dress with its cream antique lace overlay Francesca had chosen to wear for her wedding.

  Gabbi grinned and gave her approval. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  Rick was waiting inside the house, and he came forward the instant they entered the lobby.

  ‘Francesca.’ He caught hold of her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Very much OK,’ she assured gently as she leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her own. She made an attempt to lighten the situation. ‘That is, if Dominic is still waiting out there for me.’

  ‘With considerably more patience than most men would be able to summon in similar circumstances,’ Rick accorded drily.

  ‘Then let’s not keep him waiting any longer, shall we?’ Francesca suggested lightly.

  The gardens were beautiful, the flowers and shrubs clipped to perfection, and the lawn a carpet of green.

  There were a few guests seated behind members of her immediate family, but she hardly saw them. Her focus was centred on the white-painted gazebo and the tall, dark-suited figure who stood watching her progress as she walked the length of red carpet with Rick at her side.

  Francesca looked into Dominic’s eyes and saw everything she needed to know laid bare. Her own eyes misted, and there was a slight quiver to her lips as she summoned a slow, sweet smile.

  A few more steps and she’d be able to place her hand in his, feel its warm strength and accept what he offered for the rest of her life. There was no lingering doubt or apprehension, only love.

  Dominic gathered her in close and kissed her with such passion it was all she could do to keep a hold on her sanity.

  It could have lasted seconds or minutes, she had no recollection of the passage of time.

  Minutes, she decided, as she heard the sound of faint amusement from those assembled behind her.

  ‘Mr Andrea, it’s usual to kiss the bride after the ceremony.’

  ‘Believe me, I intend to do it then, too,’ Dominic drawled with musing indolence.

  The celebrant chuckled, then cleared his throat. ‘Shall we begin?’

  ‘Could you wait just a moment?’ Francesca requested. ‘There’s something I need to do first.’

  She turned towards Dominic, caught his faintly raised eyebrow, and smiled as she lifted both hands to her neck. Seconds later she placed the long thin gold chain holding Mario’s wedding ring in the palm of his hand.

  Would he realise the significance of her action? Know that by gifting him Mario’s ring she was willingly giving Dominic her heart? All of it.

  Francesca wasn’t aware she was holding her breath until his mouth curved into a warm smile, his eyes liquid with comprehension, and she released it shakily, only to catch it again as he lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed the bare finger awaiting the placement of his wedding band.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said gently.

  ‘I thought it would mean more to you than anything else I could gift you,’ she responded softly, adding with a faintly wicked smile, ‘At this moment.’

  His eyes flared, then became incredibly dark.

  Francesca turned a radiant face towards the celebrant. ‘We’re ready.’

  It was a simple ceremony, and afterwards Dominic kissed his wife with such incredible gentleness the men among the guests shifted uncomfortably and the women were seen to blink rather rapidly.

  The food was superb, with catering staff serving at tables set out on the wide terrace with its panoramic view of the harbour. The cake was cut and photographs were taken.

  Francesca barely remembered tasting a morsel, and she merely sipped from a flute of champagne.

  She was supremely conscious of Dominic seated at her side, the touch of his hand, the way his body brushed against her own. His eyes, those dark, almost black depths, liquid with emotion whenever she caught his gaze, tugged at an answering need deep inside her.

  A musing smile curved her lips as he leaned his head close to her own.

  ‘I guess it wouldn’t do to leave early.’

  She turned her head slightly and brushed her lips against his. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Damn,’ he cursed lightly.

  Her lashes curled upwards, revealing a wicked gleam in those stunning liquid brown eyes. ‘Another hour won’t kill you.’

  His mouth curved in answering humour. ‘It might.’ His lips feathered close to her ear. ‘I have this pressing need to...’ In a voice as soft as the finest silk he proceeded to explain what he meant to do the instant they were alone.

  Her body began to melt, curving into his like warm wax. ‘I think we should mingle,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Otherwise we’re in danger of shocking the guests.’

  His mouth drifted over hers, savoured briefly, then he caught hold of her hand.

  Together they circled the tables, lingering, laughing, until it was time to change, collect their bags and slip into the limousine that would transport them to a city centre hotel.

  ‘This is...’ Francesca paused in the centre of a sumptuous penthouse suite. ‘Overwhelming.’

  Dominic closed the door, then walked to where she stood. ‘You overwhelm me.’ He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. He didn’t care that they were slightly unsteady as he glimpsed the emotion evident in her wonderfully luminous eyes. For him. Only him.

  ‘I love you,’ he said gently. ‘Today. All the tomorrows.’ He traced the curve of her mouth with his thumb, felt its soft fullness, and wanted the sweetness inside. ‘I can promise never to willingly hurt you. You have my heart, my soul.’

  She ached so much, so deeply, that her eyes hurt with the strength of her emotions. ‘I didn’t think love could happen twice.’ She had to blink to keep the prickle of threatening tears at bay.

  He smiled and drew her close, his breath catching as her arms lifted to his shoulders then crept to encircle his neck.

  Her lips touched his, opening like the petals of a rose as he took possession, deepening the kiss until she lost recognition of everything except the man.

  He filled her senses and made her want as he offered the promise of heaven on earth. More. He delivered. And then some.

  But then, so did she. Willingly, wantonly. Gifting him more than her body. Everything.

  Tonight there was none of the urgency, little of a driven need. Just a long, slow loving that took them to the heights several times and beyond. They slept a little, then woke to exult in each other again until the sunlight chased away the shadows of night.

  Francesca lifted a hand, pushed back her tangled hair, then she met his eyes and smiled. ‘I love you.’

  Her pulse-beat had returned to normal after a passion so incredibly tumultuous every nerve-end still hummed with acute sensation.

  ‘Do you know how much it means to me to have you say that?’ Dominic queried huskily.

  His hand began to drift as his fingers traced a lazy pattern across her stomach, explored her navel, then moved to tease the whorls of hair at the apex between her thighs.

  The scent of her drove him crazy. Her skin was so delicate, so fragile, he almost felt afraid to touch her. Yet she shared his hunger, and exulted in his possession, until he forgot who he was in the need to gift her not only his body but his mind. It was frightening to give up so much power, to lay oneself so open and bare. Yet he doubted she would ever use the advantage against him.

  His head lowered to her breast and he began grazing a tender nipple
with the edge of his teeth.

  The tug of renewed desire arrowed through her body, and she trailed her fingers across his back, exploring the muscular ridges, aware of the strength and the power, and wondered for the nth time how she had existed, believed she’d lived, before meeting this man who was now her husband.

  Almost as if he read her mind his head lifted and he settled his mouth over hers, soothing, gentling, marking her as his own as surely as if he’d branded her flesh with fire.

  The strident peal of the telephone sounded loud in the silence of the room, and Dominic shifted, then reached for the receiver.

  ‘Our wake-up call?’ Francesca hazarded as Dominic replaced the handset.

  ‘We have fifteen minutes to shower and dress before room service deliver our breakfast.’

  She looked at him with mock solemnity. ‘It was your idea to book an early-morning flight to Athens.’

  His eyes held a wicked gleam. ‘Ah, but I had the foresight to organise a stop-over en route.’

  A smile tugged the edge of her mouth. ‘How thoughtful.’ The temptation to tease him a little was irresistible. ‘Shall we hit the shower separately or together?’

  ‘You really want me to answer that?’

  She slid out from the bed and walked unself-consciously towards the adjoining bathroom. When she reached the door she turned and shot him a tantalising smile. ‘Can’t stand the heat, huh?’

  She’d barely made it to the shower cubicle when firm hands fastened around her waist, lifting, turning her until she was positioned astride his hips.

  A laugh bubbled up in her throat, then died as he bestowed upon her a brief, hard kiss before lowering his mouth to settle at the acutely sensitive pulse at the base of her throat.

  She shuddered as sensation spiralled through her body, and she arched up against him, groaning out loud as his teeth closed over one swollen nipple, teasing, suckling, until she was almost driven to the brink of sanity.

  Francesca cried out when he shifted his head and rendered a similar salutation to the twin peak.

  His eyes were impossibly dark when they finally met hers, and she felt herself drowning in those dark depths, seriously adrift as his mouth lowered to possess hers in a kiss that echoed the deep, pulsing thrust of his powerful body.

  She rose with him, wrapping her arms round his neck as she held on and gloried in their shared passion.

  And afterwards she buried her lips in the hollow of his neck, too enervated to move as her racing heart slowed and steadied to its normal beat.

  His hand travelled slowly up and down her spine, soothing as he pressed his lips to her hair.

  It was heaven to rest against him like this, to feel that what they shared meshed the physical and spiritual in a rare coupling that few were fortunate to attain.

  She felt him burgeon inside her, sensed the increased urgency, and rode with him one more time, slowly, gently, as if they had all the time in the world.

  A hard double knock on the outer door brought them both back to the reality of the day, and a faint curse escaped Dominic’s lips as he carefully lifted her down onto her feet.

  ‘Breakfast.’ He reached for a towelling robe and tugged it on, then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her faintly swollen mouth. ‘Stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She could imagine him crossing the suite, opening the door, signalling for the waiter to deposit the tray.

  The thought of cereal and fruit, scrambled eggs and toast gave her an appetite, and she reached for the dial, set it to warm and released the lever.

  Seconds later the glass door slid open and Dominic stepped into the stall, removing the soap from her fingers as he lathered every inch of her skin. Then he held out the soap. ‘Your turn.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Francesca denied, laughing softly. ‘You’re on your own.’ She reached up and pulled down his head for one brief, soft kiss. ‘Too many challenges and we’ll not only miss breakfast, we’ll miss the plane.’ She shot him a dazzling smile. ‘Besides, I’m food hungry.’

  He let her go, with a devilish smile that hinted her escape was only temporary.

  As the giant jet taxied down the runway Dominic reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  ‘No regrets?’

  Francesca looked at those strong features, the raw emotion evident in his eyes. She lifted shaky fingers to his cheek, then trailed them to the edge of his mouth, and stifled a gasp as he drew the tips in between his teeth. ‘Not one.’

  He reached for her, uncaring of the fellow passengers sharing the first-class cabin, or the hostess who was waiting to serve them.

  His mouth on hers was incredibly gentle, and when he lifted his head he glimpsed the faint shimmer of tears.

  ‘We have a lifetime.’

  Her bones liquefied at the warmth evident in those dark eyes. ‘Yes,’ she affirmed simply.

  Carpe diem. Seize the day. And she would, with both hands, and rejoice in every one of them.

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  THE AUSTRALIANS

  Outback Heat by Emma Darcy

  available July 1998

  ‘HAVE! I DONE something wrong?’ Angie persisted, wishing Taylor would emit a sense of camaraderie instead of holding an impenetrable reserve.

  ‘Not at all,’ he assured her. ‘I would say a lot of things right. You seem to be fitting into our little Outback community very well. I’ve heard only good things about you.’

  ‘They’re nice people,’ she said sincerely. Only the Maguire family kept her shut out of their hearts.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Though I appreciate it’s taken considerable effort from you. It is a world away from what you’re used to.’

  The control Angie had been exerting over her feelings snapped. He wasn’t as blatant as his aunt in his prejudice against her but she’d felt it coming through every word he’d spoken and she didn’t deserve any of it.

  ‘Don’t judge me by your wife!’

  His jaw jerked. A flicker of some dark emotion destroyed the steady power of his probing gaze.

  ‘No two people are the same. If you don’t know that, you’re a man of very limited vision. So I come from the city as your wife did! That doesn’t stop me from being an individual in my own right.’

  She straightened up, proudly defiant, furiously angry with the situation. ‘I’m me. Angie Cordell. And it’s time you took the blinkers off your eyes, Taylor Maguire.’ Then she whirled away from him, too agitated by the explosive expulsion of her emotion to keep facing him.

  The storm outside hadn’t yet eased. There was nowhere to go. She stopped at the window, staring blindly at the torrential rain. The thundering on the roof was almost deafening but it wasn’t as loud as the silence behind her.

  ‘You want me to go, don’t you? You’ve given me a month’s respite and now you want me to leave and channel my energies somewhere else.’

  ‘I didn’t say that, Angie.’

  ‘You were working your way around it.’ Bitterness at his tactics spewed the suspicion. ‘Do you have your first choice of governess waiting in the wings?’

  ‘No. I said I’d give you a chance.’

  ‘Have you?’ She swung around to face him. ‘Have you really, Taylor?’

  He hadn’t moved. He didn’t move now except to make a gesture of appeasement. ‘Angie, I was merely trying to ascertain how you felt.’

  ‘Then let me tell you your cynicism was shining through every word.’

  He frowned, shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ The blue eyes fastened on hers with devastating sincerity. ‘I truly did not come in here to take you down or suggest you leave.’

  Her heart jiggled painfully. He might be speaking the truth but the judgements were still there, the judgements that ruled his attitude towards her, that kept her shut out of his life, denied any real shari
ng with him, denied his confidence and trust. She didn’t know why it meant so much to her but it did. It did. And the need to fight for justice from him was as much a raging torrent inside her as the rain outside.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-6217-1

  THE MARRIAGE CAMPAIGN

  First North American Publication 1998.

  Copyright © 1998 by Helen Bianchin.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and In other countries.