Bridegroom on Approval

by Day Leclaire

  “Fine and good,” she awoke enough to agree.

  “In their place, yes. But you, my sweet, need a little adventure in your life. Hell, you need to get a life. And starting tomorrow, you’re going to find that your safe little rut isn’t so safe any more.”

  “Ruts are fine and good.”

  He tackled the stairs, his jaw settling into determined lines. “I promised to pluck the princess, and by heaven, that’s precisely what I’m going to do. Just so you know, the plucking begins on your twenty-seventh birthday.”

  She stirred, her hair tickling his chin. “Happy birthday, Marco.”

  “Happy birthday to you, wife.” He smiled tenderly at the woman in his arms. “Starting tomorrow you’re going to find what it means to be married, to be a wife in every sense of the word, and to have a husband who adores you.”

  A wistful expression lent her features a painful vulnerability. “My husband adores me?”

  “Yes, my love. I adore you. And I plan to show you how much. There won’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you are the most adored woman in Hidden Harbor. You can deny love for now. But soon, innamorata, very soon you’ll know that it not only exists. You’ll realize it’s what you’ve been waiting for all these years. And it’s finally found you.”

  “Was I lost?”

  He carried her through the stark, barren living room. “Yes, Hanna. You were lost. But I’ve found you now. And I’ll never let you go.”

  “No, don’t let go.” Her words were slurred with exhaustion.

  “Never.” He paused by the closed door to her bedroom. “I promise you, love, once I’ve stripped away the feathers, I’ll do whatever it takes to set you free, to help you soar high and far. You’ll see. You won’t need feathers. It may be trite, but it’s true. Love will give you wings.” With that, he thrust open the door.

  And that’s when he found the heart of the princess concealed within the swan.

  Her bedroom contained everything the outer trappings of her world denied. Every inch was delightfully feminine and looked like it had been stolen straight from a fairytale. The delicate green carpet spread before him, so thick, it threatened to swallow them whole. The walls were covered in a textured linen paper that reminded him of crisscrossing willow branches. She’d even gotten the furniture right, choosing delicate pieces that were downright pretty. It was a woman’s room that reflected a woman’s secret dreams and fantasies.

  He glanced at the bed, relieved to discover she owned a queen-sized. It would fit two and then some. To his amusement, the delicately carved bedposts supported a transparent gauze canopy that looped and draped, billowing in sensuous waves at the least suggestion of an air current, while a thick goose-down comforter cloaked the mattress in virginal white. He deposited Hanna on the spread, intrigued to see that it cupped her body in silk and lace. Her head dropped onto a silk pillowcase, which suggested her sheets would be silk as well. Marc’s smile grew to a grin. He’d been right all along. His innocent bride had passionate depths hidden beneath her puritanical collar. So much for her claims to the contrary.

  As though to emphasize the discrepancy between the properly suited outer woman and the fiery inner one, Hanna turned toward him, her hair lapping across the pristine pillow like waves of flame. “Marco?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you mind if we talk in the morning? I’d like to go to sleep now.”

  “Yes, my sweet. Go to sleep.”

  Her lashes lifted and she fixed him with the direct look he’d long ago realized was her custom. The color of her eyes had deepened, the green reminding him of a shrouded glade deep in a primeval forest, the darkness brightened with shards of gold, like sunlight darting through heavy foliage. “Are you mad at me?”

  He perched on the edge of the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. “Why in the world would I be mad at you?”

  “Because I’ve been keeping secrets from you.”

  “It might not have been the best way to begin a marriage.” He cupped her ankle and slipped her navy pump from her foot. “But I suspect if we’d had a longer courtship they’d have come out eventually.”

  “I haven’t told you everything.”

  Her confession came in a nervous little rush and he considered how to respond as he removed her other shoe and set them both on the floor. “You’ve told me enough. For now.”

  “Are you going to leave me?”

  His brows lifted in astonishment. “Why in the world would I do that?”

  “Because I’m not the woman you thought you’d married.”

  If she only knew. Her eyes had given away more secrets than she realized and no doubt always would. “And what sort of woman is that?” he asked gently.

  “I’m not a woman capable of giving you love.”

  “Why do you think you’re incapable of love?”

  “I’m not an emotional person, Marco.” She stretched with a natural sensuality that belied her words. “I’m logical and precise, not to mention cold and calculating.”

  He shook his head. She had the oddest opinion of herself. Was she really so blind to her own nature? “We’ll deal with that in time.” He turned her slightly so he could unzip her dress. Stripping it away—a torturous act that called on every ounce of self-restraint—he swept back the covers and slipped his untouched bride beneath. “Stop worrying and get some sleep.”

  She rolled onto her side, curling into a ball. Sleep claimed her within seconds, and as it did, her fisted hand relaxed and her fingers unfurled.

  And there, dancing delicately in the center of her palm was the feather he’d released in her office.

  “Excuse me, but you can’t go in there!”

  Marc turned to confront the dragon guarding his wife’s door. He’d waited until late in the afternoon before making an appearance in the hope that he could coax Hanna from her office without a string of reasons why it would be impossible. By now he expected to find her exhausted and ready for an excuse to end the day. He hadn’t realized he’d have to fight his way through more obstacles. First three giants and now a dragon.

  He offered his friendliest smile, a smile that had never failed him before, though he suspected today might be a first. “You must be Hanna’s secretary.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and she scrutinized him with more care than his personal physician. “Damn. I warned her not to marry a charming man. They’re nothing but trouble.”

  He inclined his head, his smile growing wider. “And it will be my great honor to prove it to you.”

  Her gaze shifted to the gift bag and the huge bouquet of red roses. “What do you have there?”

  The one was self-evident, the other none of her business. But he suspected minor details such as that hadn’t stopped Pru in the past, nor would they in the future. “Birthday presents for my wife.”

  “She’s the practical sort, you know. She doesn’t go in for those feminine gew-gaws. You didn’t go and buy her some, did you?”

  “Afraid not But I’ll make sure it’s at the top of my list for next time.” He reached for the doorknob again. “Now if you’ll excuse me?”

  She fixed him with a stern look. “You hurt her, I’ll have something to say about it.”

  “I expect you will.” He fixed her with a look of his own. “And if anyone else hurts her, I’ll not only have something to say, I’ll have something to do about it. Do we have that cleared up?”

  She glared at him for a long minute before breaking down and grinning. “I believe we do. Go right in, Mr. Salvatore.”

  “Marc.”

  “Call me Pru or Dragonlady. Those are the kindest choices available to you.”

  “Okay, Pru.” He hesitated. “You might want to cancel the rest of Hanna’s appointments for the day.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because she’s not going to be here.”

  “That won’t sit well with the Tyler boys. They’re due any minute.”

  “Tough.”

  Not
giving the secretary time to argue, he entered his wife’s office. She sat behind her desk, somewhat less comatose than when he’d last found her there. But not by much. She’d traded her severe navy dress for an equally severe gray one. And although her hair wasn’t quite as tightly bound as yesterday, he suspected it might have more to do with the headache undoubtedly pounding between her temples than a desire to soften her appearance.

  “Hello, Hanna. Happy birthday.”

  She started, his unexpected appearance clearly catching her by surprise. “Marco. What...?” She slipped off her reading glasses, her attention fastening on the roses. “Are those for me?”

  A nasty suspicion dawned on him. “A first?”

  “The Tyler boys once gave me a Mother’s Day flower arrangement.” Her gaze ate up the roses with a deep, bottomless hunger. “But not roses.”

  “Then let me be the first.” He filled her arms with the heady bouquet. The temptation to lean down and capture lips as soft as the rose petals almost got the better of him. He’d have done it, if he didn’t suspect it would be a mistake. Hanna didn’t deserve to be rushed. Hers would be a leisurely seduction, one she’d remember her entire life. He dropped the gift bag on top of her papers. “This is for you, too.”

  “You bought me a present plus the roses?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “It’s nothing. I didn’t have time to find anything too elaborate. Just a small gift for now.”

  Just a small gift. And yet, it meant the world to her that he’d be so considerate. She opened the bag and removed the heart-shaped box she found inside. He’d had the store wrap it with a bright red bow and threaded feathers through the ribbon. She couldn’t hide her amusement as she carefully removed both bow and feathers and opened the box. Inside were the most delectable chocolates she’d ever seen, each one a work of art so beautiful, she hesitated to touch them. “I can’t remember when I last had chocolate ”

  “So you said. Any special reason?”

  “I’m not sure. I think everyone decided it didn’t agree with me.”

  His eyebrow arced upward. “You break out in hives? It gives you infections?”

  “No,” she replied hesitantly, struggling to recall what she’d been told. “I think it makes me hyper. But that was years ago, when I was a child. Maybe I could try one and see.”

  “Okay. And if something happens, I’ll be here to help.”

  Hanna didn’t doubt that for a minute. “Thank you.” She selected a large, thick square of dark chocolate, trimmed with elaborate swirls and colorful flowers. Feeling deliciously guilty, she took a bite. The taste exploded on her tongue and she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure. This had to be the best thing she’d eaten in a long, long time.

  “Good?”

  “Oh, Marco. This is wonderful. Have some.”

  He leaned against her desk, regarding her with amused indulgence. “I think it’s more fun to watch you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She finished the piece, licking her fingers like a greedy child. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she snatched a tissue from a nearby box and applied it to her fingertips. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

  He nudged her papers aside and sat fully on the desk, facing her. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself.”

  “I don’t often get the chance to...” She trailed off with a shrug.

  “Let your hair down?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Why, Hanna?” he asked. “What’s going on around here? You said ‘everyone’ decided you shouldn’t have chocolate. Who is everyone and why would they have any say in what you ate?”

  She’d dreaded this moment, when he’d finally begin “plucking.” Would he regret marrying her once he knew the truth? Would he leave? Fighting for control, she reached for another chocolate. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “How about with the section on your marriage application that listed your parents. Or rather the section that didn’t list your parents.”

  She fought for breath. She should have seen this coming and hadn’t. Squaring her chin, she forced herself to look at him, offering her calmest, most direct expression. “If you noticed that, there’s not much I can add. I don’t have any parents. Period. End of discussion.”

  “Everyone has parents,” he pointed out gently. “Even if we’re not raised by them. What happened to yours?”

  She shrugged, attempting a careless smile and failing miserably. “I don’t know.”

  He didn’t say a word. He simply left the desk, scooped her into his arms and sat in her chair, holding her close. She rested her head against his shoulder She’d never realized how incredible a man’s shoulder could feel cushioning her cheek. She glanced up at him, captured within the richness of his brown eyes. For some odd reason, she found herself smiling.

  “Did you know that you have irises almost the exact color of the chocolate you bought? Well... Without the flowers and assorted froufrou.”

  He smiled back at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Good grief, but she’d married a gorgeous man. “Think so?”

  She nodded. “They look good enough to eat.” At the reminder, she twisted around on his lap and reached across her desk for another piece of chocolate, swiping two instead of a more circumspect one Munching contentedly, she rested her head on his shoulder again. It felt good to sit like this. In fact, it felt really good. “Where was I?”

  “You don’t know who your parents were and...?”

  “And I was raised by various people in town,” she retorted briskly. “End of story.”

  Apparently he couldn’t take a hint. “What do you mean various?”

  “I mean, everyone took turns.”

  “Everyone? They all raised you?”

  She sighed. “No, not all.” She finished off the chocolate and decided against having another piece, though she really, really wanted one. She eyed her messy fingers. Giving in to temptation, she began sucking the chocolate off them. “Only the ones who could provide a proper home got me.”

  “You mean the authorities didn’t choose the most suitable family?” For some reason he sounded outraged.

  “See, that was the whole problem.” Hanna chuckled. Now that she thought about it, the whole situation was incredibly amusing. Absurd, even. “We’re an itty-bitty county. I was the first foster child the town had ever had to deal with. No one could decide who was most suitable to raise me.”

  “What did they do, draw straws?”

  “Nope.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Guess again.”

  The phone rang before he could. With a groan of exasperation, he snatched it up. “Salvatore.”

  Hanna frowned. “It’s Pru, isn’t it? She’s calling to warn me that my next appointment is due any minute.” Her head throbbed, probably because she’d pulled her hair too tight—as usual. Fumbling for the clasp, she ripped it free, sighing in relief as the curls cascaded over her shoulders. Ah, much better! “Pru’ll even tell you the exact time, if you want to hear it. Hour, minute and second. Ask her. You’ll see.”

  “Can’t you cancel it?” he questioned instead. Apparently whatever it was couldn’t be canceled because he grimaced. Hanna grimaced back. “How long until they get here?” He lifted her arm and checked her watch. “Damn. That doesn’t give us very long.”

  Hanna squinted at her watch, too. For some reason the numbers seemed to be doing a brisk mambo around the dial. “Stop moving!” she ordered. “And tell me what time it is.”

  Marco frowned again, so she scrunched her face up to match, which only made him frown all the more. She tried to follow suit, but really! A girl could only pucker so far. “Sweetheart? You okay? No, not you, Pru. Hanna’s acting strange.”

  “I am not acting strange.” She thrust her arm close to his face. “My watch is, see? It’s sliding around my wrist. Make it stop doing that.”

  “Listen, if there’s nothing else you can do to stop them, I understand. Ring us
when they arrive. I have to take care of Hanna.” He slammed the receiver into the cradle. Hooking her chin, he tilted her face upward. “Carissima? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my watch.” She shook her arm to show him, surprised at how floppy her wrist and fingers had grown. Marco seemed surprised, too. The clasp held still for a split second and she managed to pry it free. She dangled the watch in front of his nose. “See how big the numbers are? That’s so I can see the time at a glance. But now they’re bouncing around the dial. Bong, bong, bong. Think you can fix it?”

  “It looks fine, Hanna.”

  “It’s broke.” She tossed the watch over her head, barely wincing when it smacked against the wall behind her. “Oops. Guess I need a new one.”

  “You’re drunk!” he accused.

  “I am?” She stretched, laughing out loud. “You know something? I like it. I should do this more often.”

  “Is that why you’re not supposed to eat chocolate? Because it makes you drunk?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Really? No one told me that.” Another laugh bubbled up and she covered her lips to contain it. Not that it did any good. It escaped through her fingers in a breathless rush. “I want more.”

  “Not a chance, cara. You’ve had quite enough.”

  “If you give me another piece, I’ll tell you about Henry Tyler,” she wheedled.

  “Tell me about Henry Tyler, anyway.”

  “Okay, but you can’t let on I squealed.” She lifted a finger to her lips. At least, she hoped they were her lips. They felt oddly numb. “Shhhh. Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Not even the boys know.”

  “I’m honored you’d confide in me.”

  She peeked around to make sure no one else was listening. A person could never be too careful. For instance, the philodendron decorating her desk looked entirely too interested in their conversation, so she lowered her voice. “I married Henry so the boys wouldn’t lose the farm,” she confided.