A Wild Surrender

by Anne Mather

  Rachel lifted a hand to stroke back the tousled hair from his forehead. ‘I’m so glad you’re not my brother.’

  Matt groaned. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  ‘But I don’t know if I can come back with you,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I have a job. Responsibilities.’

  ‘I’ll find you a job on St Antoine.’ Matt grinned. ‘You can help my father write his memoir.’

  ‘Oh, Matt…’

  ‘Do you want to come?’

  ‘Need you ask?’

  ‘Okay. Just leave it to me, then. After what I’ve been through these last few weeks, handling your boss will be child’s play.’

  Rachel sighed. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘It is easy.’ Matt pushed himself up onto his knees. ‘Now, there’s only one other thing I need to ask you…’

  EPILOGUE

  THEY were married at the small church in St Antoine three months later.

  Matt would have had the ceremony the week after they returned to the island. But Diana, who was organising the event, said she needed more time to ensure that Rachel had a day to remember.

  ‘And me?’ Matt had said, and Diana had given him a playful smile.

  ‘I think all your days are going to be days to remember from now on,’ she said lightly. ‘Now, go and tell your father his lunch is ready.’

  Rachel loved Matt’s house as soon as she saw it. Unlike Jaracoba, it was a sprawling beach bungalow, with over a dozen reception rooms and half a dozen bedrooms besides. There was a fully equipped gym, and a pool, and it was only yards from Mango Cove, where Matt had taken her on her first morning on the island.

  ‘I wanted to show you my house then,’ he confessed. ‘But, apart from the fact that Sara was there, you didn’t exactly encourage me to pursue a relationship.’

  ‘And did you want to?’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Matt was very definite about that. ‘I knew I wanted you the moment I saw you. But I’ve already told you that. Stop fishing.’

  ‘And I didn’t know it, but I wanted you, too,’ admitted Rachel shyly. ‘What a fool I was.’

  ‘Well, you’re my fool now,’ teased Matt, earning a playful slap. ‘And I love you, little fool. For ever and a day.’

  The wedding was a huge success. Rachel wore a cream moiré gown, with an overskirt and train of pearl-studded silk. She carried a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath, with Matt’s engagement ring—an exquisite diamond solitaire—her only jewellery.

  Matt, in a black tuxedo, looked big and dark and handsome, and when he placed his wedding ring on her finger Rachel was the envy of every woman present.

  Rachel’s parents attended the wedding. They stayed at the hotel, and, although they were not exactly reconciled, they were not exactly estranged either. Aunt Laura was there, to give the happy couple her endorsement, and all in all Rachel thought the day was everything she could have wished for.

  She and Matt spent an idyllic honeymoon in Italy, and then returned home in time for the hurricane season.

  ‘I told you not all days were lovely on St Antoine,’ Matt said one morning, waking to find his wife seated on the windowseat of their bedroom, watching torrential rain falling past the windows.

  ‘Uh, no, that was Amalie,’ retorted Rachel, smiling as her husband got out of bed and came to join her. ‘But, anyway, I don’t mind the rain. So long as it doesn’t last too long.’

  ‘It won’t.’ Matt seated himself behind her and drew her back into his embrace. He was naked, and she felt his morning erection nudging her bottom. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Better since I threw up,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘Did I wake you?’

  ‘No,’ he lied, but she knew he was aware of every aspect of her pregnancy.

  He’d already expressed the opinion that they should have waited, that he didn’t want to share her with anyone else. But Rachel knew what he was really worried about was the fact that her biological mother had died just after giving her birth.

  ‘I’ll be fine, you know,’ she murmured, tipping her head back against his shoulder. Her hands curved over the slight swell of her stomach. ‘Besides, I want your baby. I want to feel it growing inside me. To know that he or she is the ultimate proof of how much I love you.’

  ‘I know.’

  Matt bent to caress her shoulder with his lips. He wasn’t convinced, and she knew it, but she also knew he’d do anything to make her happy—and if that meant lying about his own fears so be it.

  In fact, their child was born just six months later, in the bedroom they used when they stayed at Jaracoba. Matt had wanted Rachel to have the baby in the hospital in town, but the doctor had agreed that in the circumstances there was no reason why she shouldn’t have the baby where she chose. And having Jacob and Diana around was definitely a bonus.

  In consequence, Matt was the first to hold their son when he came, kicking and screaming, into the world.

  ‘A lusty infant,’ declared the doctor admiringly, and Rachel, who had insisted on having the baby by natural means, gave him a tired but triumphant smile.

  ‘Like his father,’ she said softly, earning a look that promised retribution later from her husband.

  ‘He’s beautiful,’ she said, when Matt came to lay their child in her arms. ‘Isn’t he?’

  ‘Like his mother,’ agreed Matt, perching on the bed beside her. He bent to kiss her flushed face. ‘Did I tell you I love you?’

  ‘Not for the past couple of hours,’ she murmured, feeling his arm slipping around her. ‘Hmm, shall we call him Jacob, after your father?’

  ‘Jake,’ said Matt, shortening it. ‘Yeah. Jake Brody. I like it.’

  Jacob Brody was thrilled to hear they were going to call the baby after him. He and Diana would make perfect grandparents, and even Sara and Ralph appeared at the baby’s christening.

  ‘Do you think we brought those two together again?’ asked Matt, as he and Rachel strolled on the beach at Mango Cove after the celebrations were over.

  ‘Well, they brought us together,’ murmured Rachel softly. ‘And that’s the most important thing, don’t you think?’

  And Matt agreed.

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459227194

  Originally published in the U.K. under the title Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender

  Copyright © 2010 by Anne Mather

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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