‘It wasn’t through a lack of asking,’ growled Cormack.
‘I just like keeping you guessing,’ answered his wife sweetly as she planted a tender kiss on the top of their baby’s silky black head.
‘And what are you keeping me guessing about this time, I wonder?’ queried Cormack softly.
‘Guess!’ She smiled, but she could see from the look in his eyes that he already knew she was pregnant with their second child.
‘I love you, Triss,’ he whispered.
‘The feeling is entirely mutual, I can assure you.’
The bride and groom had wandered hand in hand through the rose-decked arbour and out towards the lake.
Romy wore the simplest dress in cream silk, which brushed the grass as she walked, and a circlet of matching cream roses on top of her blonde head.
The sun dazzled off the mirror-smooth surface of the water and their senses were full of music and laughter and birdsong.
They stood in silence for a while, both lost in thought, reflecting on their good fortune and happiness. Then Dominic turned and looked at his wife, experiencing the usual thrill of pride and pleasure.
‘Happy?’
‘Mmm. Unbelievably so.’
‘But you’re very quiet,’ he probed. ‘Are you sad because your mother couldn’t make it?’
‘Wouldn’t make it, you mean,’ Romy corrected him drily, but her words were totally without anger. Dominic had taught her that when you couldn’t change something it was sometimes best just to accept it.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not sad. I’m glad she’s happy with her new man, and if she had come she probably would have done something totally out-rageous—like making a speech or jumping into the swimming pool fully clothed!’
‘So why are you so reflective? Were you thinking about Mark?’
Her eyes shone with tears at his perception, and she nodded.
He cupped her face in his strong hand. ‘Don’t be sad, sweetheart. Mark’s out of pain now. And today you kept your promise to him in the fullest sense. You told him that you would be happy, and you are going to be happy. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making that promise come true.’
Ever since that night two months ago, when they had come together so passionately, Romy had sometimes felt that she was going to burst with happiness!
But Dominic was right, and it was time to let the past go now. Time to let go of any lingering regrets and guilt.
On an impulse, Romy scooped the circlet of roses off her head and tossed it into the lake, like a discus. The gleaming water parted and rippled as the flowers hit the surface, and the sun gilded the cream petals. She said a short, silent prayer for Mark, and bade him farewell, then lovingly turned her face up to her husband.
Dominic squeezed her hand tightly. ‘OK now?’
‘OK.’ She smiled, and looked down at her posy of cream roses which she was still clutching tightly to her chest.
Dominic shot her a brief glance. ‘Want to go back to the reception and toss your bouquet in traditional fashion?’
What Romy wanted was to have her gorgeous new husband all to herself, but she had the rest of her life for that, and she thought she could possibly share him. Just for today!
She turned to him with a grin. ‘But there’s no one left to get married, is there? Lola and Geraint. Triss and Cormack. And now us.’
Dominic frowned. ‘What about that friend of yours? The rather attractive one with dark hair?’
‘Stephanie? She’ll be delighted to hear that you described her as attractive.’
‘But a little miserable, I think?’
‘She’s just broken up with her boyfriend.’
‘Ah! Then she sounds the perfect bouquet recipient to me. Come on, sweetheart.’
He took her by the hand, but she halted and turned her big brown eyes up to him.
‘Kiss me first, Dominic!’
‘Romy,’ he warned, because he knew that look very well.
‘Just a kiss,’ she pouted.
‘With you it’s never just a kiss. Oh, come here, then.’ He sighed, on a note midway between passion and perplexity. ‘Why is it that I can never resist you?’ he wondered aloud. ‘I’m like putty in your hands, do you know that, Romy Dashwood?’
‘Oh, that!’ Romy’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s called love!’ And the bouquet slid unnoticed to the ground.
Dominic sighed with pleasure as he kissed her very thoroughly, and she slid her hands beneath his jacket to encircle his waist. ‘Romy!’ he groaned.
‘What, darling?’ she questioned innocently, her fingertips massaging his broad back through the silk of his shirt.
Dominic knew when he was beaten—but more importantly, he knew when he wanted to be beaten.
He was laughing with delight as he tumbled her down onto the grass and began to kiss her.
The Unlikely Mistress
Surrender to the Sheikh
The Mistress’s Child
Sharon Kendrick
I’ve known for a long time that I have the best job in the world—writing stories about powerful, complicated men and the women who love them—what’s not to like? Some of these stories have stayed especially close to my heart and I’m delighted to announce that you can now read them for yourself if they’re new to you—or maybe rediscover them if you loved them as much as I do.
I love them for different reasons. Sometimes because there’s a heroine I can particularly identify with—like Rose in Surrender to the Sheikh or Sabrina in The Unlikely Mistress. Sometimes because I am unable to forget the hero—and I confess that they all have an unforgettable hero. I think about Dominic Dashwood in Settling the Score and all the fuss that book caused at the time. I think of the proud Russian, Nikolai, in Too Proud to be Bought and Ross in One Husband Required, who was a very different kind of hero. I can feel as if they’re all in the room with me, urging you to read their stories, and I hope you will.
The collection runs from May through to October 2015, so please write or tweet me @Sharon_Kendrick and tell me which are your favourites.
Happy reading,
Love,
Sharon
SHARON KENDRICK once won a national writing competition by describing her ideal date: being flown to an exotic island by a gorgeous and powerful man. Little did she realise that she’d just wandered into her dream job! Today she writes for Mills & Boon, featuring often stubborn but always to-die-for heroes and the women who bring them to their knees. She believes that the best books are those you never want to end. Just like life …