Baby for the Billionaire(85)
Gravely, he finger-combed her unruly curls into a semblance of order—but not too orderly. He liked how they rampaged down her back in exuberant disregard. Then he centered the circlet on her brow and straightened her veil. He brushed the bits of grass and debris from her skirts and then nodded in satisfaction.
Isabella tugged at the tails of his tux and regarded him with a worried expression. “Your turn?” he asked gently.
At her solemn nod, he adjusted her bonnet, retying the ribbon beneath her dainty chin. He took his time removing every blade of grass from her skirts and then turned her in a slow circle. He nodded in satisfaction.
“Picture perfect,” he said approvingly.
He winked at Annalise, surprised to see tears in her eyes again. This time they weren’t from joy. There was bittersweet quality to her expression. Forcing a smile to her lips, she stepped forward to join them. The next half hour passed in a flurry of camera shots, some with Madam, some without. By the time they were finished, afternoon had faded into evening. Taye and Derek made their farewells, shaking Jack’s hand with impressive formality, and kissing the bride with far too much enthusiasm.
“What next?” Annalise asked, once they were alone. She attempted to hide her nervousness with only limited success.
“Sara’s prepared a formal dinner for us. I didn’t think it wise to go to a hotel in case Isabella has a problem, so we’ll be staying here. I’ve arranged for Mrs. Walters, just in case.”
“Oh.” To his intense fascination, color came and went in Annalise’s face. “Is that really necessary?”
He held her gaze with his. “Without question.”
She spared a brief glance in Isabella’s direction. His niece was sitting beneath the tree with her Nancy doll. Madam hovered nearby. “I assumed my room would be adjacent to Isabella’s and we wouldn’t need Mrs. Walters any longer. After all, that’s why I’m here.”
“You’re my wife now. You’ll share my room.”
Alarm flared to life. “Jack, this isn’t a real marriage,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t be sharing a bedroom.”
“This is a real marriage and we will share a bedroom and a bed.” He caught her hand in his and drew her closer, keeping his voice low and reassuring. “CPS will notice if we’re not living as husband and wife. So will Sara and Mrs. Walters. Even Isabella will sense that something’s off. She’s too young to understand what, but I want her to feel safe and secure on every level. Having two parents who act like parents will help her do that.”
“We never discussed this aspect of our marriage,” she protested. “I assumed—”
He smiled. “You assumed wrong.”
“How far do you plan to take this?”
“Take what?”
She regarded him with naked apprehension. “Take our relationship.”
“As far as you let me,” he answered calmly.
“And if it’s not as far as you’d like?” she shot back.
“You draw the line, Annalise, wherever you want it. The real question is—” he snatched a quick kiss that had Isabella giggling “—what will you do when one of us steps over it?”
Dinner that night passed on wings, filled with laughter and delicious food, while the conversation flowed with surprising ease. It wasn’t until afterward that time slowed and stuttered. Much to Jack’s amusement, Annalise did her best to drag the evening out. Still dressed in their wedding finery—at Isabella’s insistence—they played games until bedtime, at which point Mrs. Walters came to collect his niece.
There was a moment of concern when she protested being escorted to bed, but Annalise stepped in with surprising firmness, and Isabella gave them a reluctant hug and kiss before retiring. The instant they were alone, Jack scooped his bride into his arms and carried her to their bedroom.
“This isn’t necessary,” she protested.
“Indulge me. It’s not every day a man marries.”
“Jack, please.”
“I intend to please you.”
He shouldered open the door to the master suite and stepped across the threshold before gently setting his bride on her feet. She stood, unmoving, examining her surrounds with a combination of curiosity and nervousness. He tried to see the room through her eyes.
The furnishings were sturdy pieces with clean, simple lines, stained to a deep golden sheen. They weren’t overwhelmingly masculine, yet they were a bit stark. The candles helped, giving the room a warm, welcoming glow. Sara had provided a few romantic touches of her own by scattering a pathway of ivory and blush pink rose petals from the doorway to the bed, as well as across the duvet covering the mattress. Two crystal flutes stood at the ready alongside a bottle of champagne that rested in a bucket of ice. He studied the scene with an uncertainty he’d never experienced in the business world, concerned about Annalise’s reaction.