Allison’s wedding day dawned clear and sunny and by midmorning it was already unseasonably warm for a late January day at seventy-six degrees. A perfect day for a wedding.
Shortly before the eleven o’clock marriage service was set to begin, they took the interstate downtown to the River Walk and the historic La Villita district bounded by King Phillip Walk, Villita Street and Alamo Street. The Little Church was tucked in between a jewelry shop and an art gallery, with yet another gallery of small shops flanking the courtyard behind it.
Miranda, Ryan and Lily were already at the church when they arrived, and Miranda and Lily joined Allison on the wide tiled pavement outside while Ryan took Kane up the steps through the narrow arched doorway. The stained-glass depiction of a cross above the altar glowed in rich jewel-like hues through the huge glass panes in the heavy doors.
“Here you are, dear.” Lily handed her a trailing bouquet of stargazer lilies and palest pink roses nestled in ivy and ferns. She pinned a matching corsage on Miranda and went off in search of the men with rose boutonnieres in her hand.
“You look so lovely.” Miranda’s eyes filled with tears.
“It’s the dress.” Allison smoothed a hand over the simple, tea-length white silk. “I would never have found anything so beautiful without your help.” Miranda had taken her shopping for a wedding dress, calmly ignoring her protests that a suit would do. Kane had told her he wanted Allison in white, she’d said, and that was the end of that.
“It’s not the dress.” Miranda smiled. “Though it is a gorgeous garment. It’s you, dear. You glow.” She glanced toward the front of the church, where Kane and Ryan were conferring with Lily and the minister before the simple wooden altar. Set on its plain surface were stunning sprays of pink and white gladiolus with more roses and lilies, while the seven tapers of the candelabra on each side were interlaced with ivy, roses and babies’ breath. The same theme was echoed in the small wooden railings that flanked each side of the altar. “Isn’t the church gorgeous?”
“It is.” Her voice was reverent. “I still can’t believe we’re getting married here.” She laughed self-consciously. “I still can’t believe we’re getting married, period.”
“You are,” said Miranda positively. “And not soon enough for me. Kane can’t afford to let you get away.” Her eyes softened. “I always worried so about him. The few of his dates I met were shallow and self-centered. They were too busy checking out their images in mirrors to really care about Kane. I was beginning to fear he chose that kind of woman on purpose. My son is a very solitary man, and a woman like that wouldn’t threaten his solitude.” She paused. “But you…you couldn’t be more different. Kane’s more open, happier than I’ve ever seen him. I thank you for loving him.”
“I’ve loved him since the first time I met him.” She smiled tremulously. She wished his mother’s words were true, but she certainly hadn’t seen any signs that she made Kane particularly happy, except in a purely physical context. In fact, the opposite was true. He seemed moodier and more introspective now than he had before. “But I never imagined he’d notice me.”
“Well, I thank heaven he did!”
She might have commented further, but there was no point in bursting his mother’s bubble.
Miranda turned away from her then, reaching for a dry-cleaning bag and extracting a long swath of Spanish lace. “Here’s the veil I promised you.” She held up the delicate fabric. “It belonged to Rosita Perez, the housekeeper who practically raised me as well as both my brothers’ children. A number of Fortune and Perez brides have worn it and it will mean a lot to Ryan.”
“It’s so gorgeous.” Allison stood motionless while Miranda pinned the veil in place and arranged it over her long, unbound hair. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“It’s my pleasure. I never wore it,” Miranda said wistfully.
“There’s still time,” Allison said. “You never know. Your Prince Charming might be standing right around the next corner.”
But Miranda didn’t smile. “I met my Prince Charming years ago and I blew it. Since then, I’ve made a career out of kissing frogs. If I can just get through the rest of my life without screwing it up any more than I already have, I’ll be content.”
“Content isn’t the same as happy; I think you should try for happy.” Allison put an arm around Miranda’s shoulder, rubbing her upper arm and tactfully changing the subject. “I want to thank you for everything you did to make today special. The only thing that could make it better would be to have my own mother with us.”
Miranda returned the hug, careful not to squash the bouquet. “I wish she could be, too, dear. I’m sure she’s watching you, though.” Her voice wavered and both women sniffed. “Kane will kill me if I make you cry,” she said, chuckling.
“All right. I think we’re ready!” Lily came rustling back the aisle, beaming. “Gabrielle and Wyatt just arrived.” She stopped a few feet from Allison. “Oh, honey, you look so lovely. Your hair and that veil…and your dress…” Her dark eyes sparkled. “Kane’s going to be bowled over when he sees you!” She stepped forward and enveloped Allison in a gentle hug, kissing her cheek. “Good luck, dear.”
Ryan strode back across the dark red carpet, beaming. “All right, Allison. Are you ready? Kane says we’re supposed to get this show on the road.” He paused, a gleam of masculine appreciation in his eye. “You look fetching.” Then he offered his arm to his sister. “Come on, Miranda. Time for a front-row seat.”
He was back in a moment, offering his arm to Allison.
“Thank you for escorting me,” she said, a little awed. How was it possible that Ryan Fortune was walking her up the aisle at her wedding? Then a pang of sorrow and regret struck her. Even if he’d lived, her father probably wouldn’t have been here, performing this traditional task. She hadn’t been ready to forgive him eight months ago. No, she’d still be wallowing in righteous anger and disdain, taking a mean pleasure in denying him the chance to walk her down the aisle. The thought brought the hovering tears back again and she tilted her face to the ceiling, fiercely blinking them away.
“It’s my pleasure, dear,” Ryan assured her, recalling her from the momentary introspection. “I thought my chance to do this had ended when Vanessa, Victoria and Gabrielle were married. It’s truly my pleasure.”
He turned and nodded through the vestibule doors at the organist who’d been quietly providing background music. As the swells of the Lohengrin wedding march began, he leaned over and lightly kissed Allison’s forehead. “Welcome to the family.”
The ceremony was brief and conventional, but thanks to Miranda, it was perfectly done. As she walked steadily up the aisle on Ryan’s arm, between pews of antique, gleaming carved wood, she kept her focus on Kane. His face was sober, but a gleam of appreciation in his eyes reassured her and told her that he found her attire pleasing. A strong surge of happiness warmed her as he took her hand from Ryan, who returned to stand between Miranda and Lily; Gabrielle and Wyatt stood across the aisle with Patience.
Since she had no family present, they’d dispensed with the giving away of the bride, and before she knew it, she was repeating her vows to Kane in a quiet, steady voice. Then he said his, his gaze holding hers. She was dimly aware of Miranda crying quietly in the background as her heart gathered each word and tucked it away to be treasured forever. They exchanged the rings they’d bought and after a brief blessing, she was pronounced Mrs. Kane Fortune to the sound of her husband’s family’s clapping.
After the ceremony, Miranda guided them around the low stone wall and the iron fence around the back to the stone fountain in the courtyard, where the photographer who’d snapped discreet pictures throughout the ceremony posed them on the wide, shallow steps of the fountain for more formal portraits. As the man snapped shot after shot, Allison wondered if the love she felt for the tall, dark man beside her would show in her face when the photos were developed.
Five
The wedding lun
cheon his mother had arranged at a nearby hotel seemed to take forever. Kane could hardly contain his impatience though he knew the meal would please his mother. He just wanted all this to be over, wanted to get into a normal routine with his wife.
His wife. He’d never expected to like the sound of the words so much. As the waiter came around to offer coffee to everyone at the table, he decided he’d had enough wedding. Time for the good part.
He stood, holding out his hand for Allison. She stood and placed her hand in his, a mildly puzzled expression on her lovely face.
“We have to leave now,” he informed her.
“Oh.” She looked slightly disquieted. “But our guests—”
“Can entertain themselves,” he informed her. “We have a honeymoon suite awaiting.”
“A honeymoon suite!” She looked stunned. Then her face lit up with a smile of such spontaneous beauty she looked incandescent. “But you said we didn’t have time for a honeymoon.”
He grinned, glad he’d been able to surprise her. “Well, we don’t. But I thought we should do something special on our wedding night. I booked a suite at La Mansion del Rio for the night.”
“La Mansion!” Allison’s face reflected her shock. “Oh, Kane!”
La Mansion was one of the River Walk’s finest hotels, a former boys’ college that boasted some of the most beautiful views of the river. It was arguably one of San Antonio’s most exclusive hotels. Kane had never had occasion to stay there, but he’d heard that despite its unprepossessing exterior it was extraordinarily beautiful inside. He couldn’t think of a better place for their wedding night and from the way she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him while his family laughed and clapped, he decided he’d pleased his bride as well.
“Are you sure?” she asked him. “I know you have rounds.”
“I’m sure,” he said, lightly holding her by the waist. “I called Dr. Ankra and she agreed to take my rounds today if I’ll cover her tomorrow night. In fact, she was delighted to help out and asked me to give you her congratulations.”
“All right. We’ll have to go home first so I can pack—”
“That’s all taken care of.” he told her. “I gave the housekeeper a list this morning while we were downtown at the wedding. The bag is in the trunk of my car.” He smiled down into her eyes, feeling her soft curves beneath his hands, suddenly impatient to be alone with her. “Come on, wife. Our honeymoon awaits.”
The drive went quickly. Kane turned onto College Street and they checked in. The hotel staff was smiling and helpful as they were taken to their suite and he realized that with Allison still wearing her wedding dress, their new status was readily apparent.
The one-bedroom suite was charming, done in Spanish colonial style. The bellman brought up their single suitcase and then they were alone together. Dr. and Mrs. Kane Fortune. He liked the sound of it. He liked the thought of it, of picturing Allison coupled with him forever.
She’d moved through the suite to the pretty balcony that overlooked the river while he’d conferred with the bellman and he joined her there, leaning on the railing and looking out at the beautifully landscaped grounds below them.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” Just standing close to her, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, feeling the warmth she radiated, made him want her. He straightened and put a hand on her arm, drawing her back into the room and sliding his arms around her. “What do I have to do to get you out of this dress?” he asked as he shut the balcony door.
She smiled. “It’s easy. There’s a zipper in the back. Your mother wanted to have it replaced with a million little buttons—it was one of the few things I actually had to tell her I didn’t want to do.”
He was already drawing down the zipper, and the dress fell into a white puddle at her feet. As he lifted her free of the fabric, his mouth fell open. “Where did you get that?”
She was wearing a fire-engine red bustier that cupped her full breasts and plumped them into tempting mounds of alabaster flesh that barely concealed soft pink nipples. The lace faithfully followed the curve of her waist and flared out again, stopping at her hips to reveal a tiny triangle of red panties. Garter straps hung from the bustier were attached to sheer, pearly silk stockings. She was still wearing her white strappy heels. He couldn’t resist dropping to his knees before her and kissing the soft skin of her upper thigh that was revealed above the stocking.
“Your sister gave it to me last night.” She put her hands on his head, running them gently through his hair. “She made me promise to wear it today.”
“Remind me to thank her. It’s a good thing I didn’t know you had this on under that dress,” he said, dragging his mouth over silk and flesh, “or we might not have made it to the altar.”
A loud knock at the door made her jump. “Heavens! Who could that be?”
Kane rose to his feet with a sigh. “Don’t move. Not an inch.” He walked to the door, withdrawing a tip from his pocket. He signed the tab and dismissed the waiter, then wheeled the small cart into the room himself.
“Champagne and canapés,” he said to Allison. “I thought we should start this marriage off right.”
“This is—it’s very thoughtful.” Her eyes were huge and they looked suspiciously shiny and he knew a moment’s guilt. She hadn’t had much reason to expect romance from him in the weeks since they’d decided to marry.
“I wanted it to be special for you.” She hadn’t moved yet, and he crossed to her, taking her hand and leading her to the tray.
She looked down at herself. “Kane! I can’t walk around like this!” Her cheeks were bright red.
“Why not? There’s no one but me to see you.” He grinned as he caught the back view in the big mirror on the wall and realized the tiny panties were a thong. “And quite a sight you are.” He slid a hand around her back then smoothed it down across the firm, naked swell of her bottom. Then he took his palm away with a rueful chuckle. “Maybe the champagne wasn’t such a great idea. I’m not sure I can keep my hands off you long enough to open it.”
“It was a wonderful idea,” she whispered. “I truly didn’t expect you to take time away from work, but I’m glad you did.”
Her gratitude made him feel uneasy and small. Why had he resisted the idea of a honeymoon so much? He’d told himself—and her—that he couldn’t take a week away but the truth was he’d never taken a single vacation in his four years at County and he was long overdue for a break.
But Allison seemed to expect so little that she’d never even questioned his statement that he couldn’t get away. He’d taken for granted the easy way she’d wound herself into the pattern of his days. She never demanded anything, never nagged. She was unfailingly supportive, warm and willing.
He felt guilty and ashamed, and he vowed to do better. He’d done so little to show her that he liked the way she’d changed his life. But he hoped the meal awaiting them would tell her. He’d left instructions with the concierge while he was checking their luggage.
Forcing himself to ignore the lush bounty of feminine treasure standing just inches away, he moved to the cart. He cut the foil on the bottle and opened the wire, then draped a napkin over the cork as he gently uncorked the champagne—a fairly light-bodied vintage that he’d thought would go well with the refreshments.
“You do that like an expert,” she observed with a smile.
“I like wine,” he said as he handed her a bubbling glass, “so I’ve learned a good bit about it.”
“All I know about wine would fit right here.” She indicated the tip of her smallest finger.
He chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing you have me now.”
Her smile faltered. “I still can’t believe we’re married.”
“Believe it.” He stepped to her side and slipped his arm around her, drawing her scantily clad body against his and closing his eyes in delight for a moment at the feel of her all along his length.
Opening his eyes, he lifted his glass slightly. “I propose a toast.”
She lifted hers in response, her eyes on his.
“To the joys of marriage.” He touched her glass with his.
“To the joys of marriage,” she repeated softly, and they each took a drink.
He could have let it go, but the toast had sounded hollow and impersonal to him, and he couldn’t manage to step away from her. He set his glass against hers again, holding her eyes. “And to my beautiful wife and the many happy years we’ll share.”
Tears rose in her eyes almost instantly. “To many happy years,” she whispered.
They each drank again, then he set his glass aside. He reached for hers and did the same, pulling her more snugly against him. “This is driving me wild,” he growled. “I was going to take you down to the River Walk before our dinner reservations, but…”
“But…” She shifted her body against his once, then again. “We can always come down to the River Walk. We only have one night here.” Her voice dropped. “Maybe we should reorder our priorities.”
He chuckled deep in his throat. “I’ll drink to that,” he said as he lowered his head and took her mouth. She responded immediately with the sweet hot fire he’d learned to expect, nearly burning him alive as she slipped her arms up around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair, caressing his skull.
His pulse was pounding already, almost out of control, his body surging heavily against her through the constricting fabric of his pants. He tore his mouth from hers and tugged the bustier down, making a sound of approval low in his throat as he exposed her breasts. “Mine,” he said, cupping one plump mound and lifting it free. “Mine.” He bent so that he could take the small taut tip into his mouth and pressed it firmly against the roof of his mouth, suckling strongly.
She gave a short scream and wriggled against him, her hands clenching in his hair. Then her arms came down between them and she tore frantically at his clothing. First she opened his shirt, and small arrows of fire sizzled through him when her palms covered his flat nipples. He groaned when she freed him and took him between her small, warm palms. Then her hand moved lower, between his legs. She slipped her palm beneath him, cupping him and stroking gently with a single finger and he thought he was going to lose it right there. “Stop,” he gasped, seizing her hand and dragging it away. He was hot and hard; her belly where he brushed it was soft and silky and he couldn’t resist the urge to roll his hips heavily against her as he fumbled in his pocket for the protection he’d brought along.
A Most Desirable M.D. Page 8