Beside him he felt Annalise’s shoulders tremble and a muffled sound escaped, something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Are you hurt?” He tried to find her through all the lace, satin and tulle. “Sweetheart, please don’t cry. It’ll be all right.”
She managed to push aside her veil and a heavy swath of curls, revealing eyes swimming with tears. But they weren’t tears of sorrow or anger. She tilted back her head and burst out laughing. His mouth twitched. And then he was laughing, too.
“So much for a traditional, elegant affair,” he muttered.
“Considering ours isn’t exactly a traditional family to begin with, it seems quite appropriate to me.” Annalise attempted to twitch her skirts into place, skirts that had ridden up high enough to reveal—Lord preserve his sanity—a tantalizing glimpse of a sexy lace garter and a hint of creamy thigh. “And, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not really cut out for elegant.”
Jack leaned in and kissed her, a brief, thorough kiss that left her cheeks glowing and her eyes sparkling. “Do I look disappointed?” He shoved at the dog. “You two are now officially forbidden from sneaking Madam any more treats. She’s getting so fat, she’s practically waddling. And as for you two—” He shot his friends a glare that only served to increase their amusement. “Thanks for your help.”
Derek offered a broad grin. “Anytime.”
“My pleasure,” Taye added.
Jack gained his feet and helped his bride to hers. With one stern command, he had Isabella removed from Madam’s back and the dog sitting calmly at his heels. The photographer stepped forward.
“Would you like a few formal shots?” His mouth twitched. “I think all the informal poses are covered.”
“But we’re a mess,” Annalise protested.
Jack shook his head. “You look beautiful.”
Her amusement faded, replaced by concern. “You wanted this to look good,” she explained in a low voice. “I know how important it is.”
“It’ll be fine. Here, just a few minor adjustments …”
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 nak*d 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.
For more years than Jack could count, he’d lived in an emotional wasteland. His father had been a cold bastard and still was, and he treated his son as little more than a commodity.
His mother had left him, though he didn’t doubt it had been against her will. Not that it had changed those lonely years of his childhood. And Joanne … God, how he missed her. He’d survived her loss, of course. Barely. But ever since his parents’ divorce, he’d learned to keep tight control over all aspects of his life. To hold people at a distance. He had no intention of ever being deserted, physically or emotionally, again.
As though sensing the dark direction of his thoughts, Annalise offered him a tentative smile. “This is lovely,” she said. “Like something out of a fairy tale.”
With the gift of one simple smile, warmth flooded through him and the cold and dark faded. This was his wife. His woman. It didn’t matter how or why they’d come to exchange those vows. In this moment, they belonged together and he’d do whatever necessary to make this night one she never forgot.
“I’m glad you like it.” He gestured toward the champagne. “Would you care for a glass?”
“I don’t drink,” she confessed.
He tilted his head to one side. Interesting, considering Derek’s report. “Not at all?”
Her mouth twisted. “I had a small run-in with alcohol when I was sixteen. It didn’t agree with me.”
“This might be a good time to confess that I already know about the incident.”
She froze. “How is that possible?” she asked carefully.
“I have an excellent PI. I had you checked out after I hired you. I believe he referred to it as a youthful indiscretion.” He attempted to interpret her reaction to his confession with only limited success. “Are you angry that I had you investigated?”
She drew a cautious breath. “I guess that depends on why you did it.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I did it to make sure you were a safe and trustworthy person to have around Isabella.”
She seemed to breathe a little easier. “Yes, of course. Since we’re now married, I assume I checked out?”
“With that one exception.” He still couldn’t get a read on her and it puzzled him. “Did you want to talk about it?”
She shrugged and wandered across the room to the bow window that overlooked the courtyard where they’d been married. Her gown rustled in the silence of the room. She perched on the edge of the window seat, her skirts settling around her in a graceful arc. Moonlight cascaded through the beveled panes and bathed her in silver, while leaving her expression in shadow.
“There’s not much to tell. I got drunk.”
“It happens to most of us at one point or another. That’s when we learn there’s a reason for our current drinking laws.” He approached her the way he would a wounded animal, slowly and with utmost caution. “Is there more to it than that?”
She sat without moving and simply stared at him. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about that night.”
A hideous suspicion took hold. “Did someone take advantage of you?” he asked sharply. “Were you drugged?”
“Not exactly. At least, I don’t think so,” she whispered. “But I did lose my virginity.”
Fury consumed him. “You were taken advantage of. What sort of bastard—”
She stopped him with a quick shake of her head. “He was no more capable of making rational decisions than I was. Trust me, he paid a steep price for it.”
“I gather your father found out?” Jack guessed.
“And his. It … wasn’t pretty.”
“I can imagine.” It explained so much about her, especially her need to keep herself under such tight control. He closed the remaining distance between them and sat beside her, taking her hand in his. Her fingers were like ice. “Why are you telling me all this, Annalise?”
“Because you should know that I haven’t had any alcohol since that night.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a directness that sliced straight through to his soul. “And I haven’t been with anyone sexually since then, either.”
The air burned in his lungs and he slowly exhaled.
“Never?”
“No.”
“Because of one youthful mistake?”
She hesitated, as though considering the matter. “It didn’t seem … wise. Plus, I’ve never really been tempted.” Her eyes burned in the darkness. “Until now.”
He stilled. He hadn’t realized until that moment how desperately he wanted her. But he couldn’t take her. Not after what she’d told him. He’d been so cold for so long, had looked forward to warming himself in the fiery heat of Annalise’s desire. But he couldn’t take advantage of her like that callous boy from her youth. He wouldn’t.
He fought for control, fought for the cool, calm deliberation that had once come with such ease. “Annalise—”
“You’re going to send me away, aren’t you?”
“What?” He shook his head. “No, not away. Just to the room next door.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He froze at her words. A stinging slap couldn’t have made a harsher impact.
“Earlier today I was positive that was what I wanted,” she went on. “But I realize now that was just fear speaking.”
“Fear?”
“Last time I was sixteen,” she explained. “I don’t even remember the act itself. Now, the pain? That I recall. The embarrassment when it was over is a particularly vivid memory, not to mention the humiliation when the whispers started during the weeks and months afterward.”
He regarded her with compassion. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Jack. My fear isn’t logical. It’s more of a wispy memory than a rational emotion.” Her mouth curved into a smile full of feminine mystery and wry humor. “Don’t you think it’s past time I changed all that?”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m positive.” She shifted to face him. “Please, Jack. Help me replace those other memories with new ones. Better ones. Special ones.”
A short, harsh laugh was torn from him. “But no pressure, right?”
“I’m fairly certain most of the pressure is on me.” She disengaged her hand from his and slid her fingers along his arm to his neck. She tugged gently. “Like this, for instance.”
He bent closer and allowed her to take charge of the kiss. Her mouth slid across his as light as a whisper. She moved in again, a slow, thorough exploration. Then she slipped inward, giving him a taste of such sweetness that it proved headier than the most potent drink. She eased backward, breaking the contact.