In Bed With...Collection. Emma Darcy
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of heat to her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Bryce. I…I guess that really stung me.’
‘Let it go,’ he advised quietly. ‘Don’t let it spoil what we can have together.’
‘I won’t,’ she promised fervently, her eyes begging his forgiveness. It was Derek who had humiliated her, not this man. Bryce made her feel good about herself.
He smiled, chasing the painful shadows of Derek away.
She smiled back, determined that she would feel beautiful as his bride. And she wouldn’t count the cost of anything because that was how Bryce wanted it. Pleasing her husband-to-be was important.
When they arrived at the bridal boutique, he instantly commandeered a saleslady, instructing her to show Miss York the very best stock she had, and he expected to see the selection of gowns paraded in front of him so he could judge for himself which one most suited her very unique style of beauty. He then settled himself on a white satin sofa and waved them on to the business of looking at what was available.
‘Now there is a guy I could really take to,’ the saleslady remarked to Sunny, rolling her eyes in maxi-appreciation. ‘You sure have won yourself a prize in him.’
‘Yes. Yes, I have,’ Sunny agreed, determined to believe it.
‘Hmm…’ The woman eyed her up and down. ‘With your height and legs, we certainly don’t want a crinoline-style skirt. Too much. Slim and elegant with a fabulous train, I’d say. Shall we start with that?’
Sunny nodded. ‘Sounds good.’
‘Perhaps something off the shoulder to frame that gorgeous mass of hair.’
Sunny barely stopped herself from rolling her own eyes at this description of her unruly mop. Reminding herself that Bryce liked her hair, just as it was, she simply said, ‘Let’s see.’
Maybe because it all seemed rather unreal, it was actually fun, parading the gowns for Bryce, striking poses for his studied opinion. His running commentary on the detail of everything made her laugh and he scored each showing out of ten. Oddly enough, his scores matched her own judgment, demonstrating like minds, which also helped to push any misgivings about her decision aside.
The fifth gown, however, brought the sense of fun to an abrupt halt. It wasn’t exactly a traditional bridal dress, not silk nor satin nor even white, and it didn’t have a train, either. But Sunny loved it and to her eye it looked perfect on her, nothing to be fixed or altered. It also made her feel more…female…than anything she’d ever worn before.
This time she didn’t prance out of the dressing-room to show it off to Bryce. She walked self-consciously, knowing the slinky ankle-length gown in cream garter lace was moulded to her every curve. The long sheer sleeves added an elegant grace and the scooped neckline was just low enough to reveal the uppermost swell of her breasts. The image of a sexy swan floated into her mind and she couldn’t help thinking this was how she would have wanted to look—to feel—if she was marrying for love.
Bryce was not alone on the sofa. Another man had joined him, apparently showing off the contents of an attaché case. They both turned to look at her. Bryce’s face instantly lit up with pleasure.
‘That one!’ he said, almost on a note of awe, his eyes drinking in the whole lovely flow of it on her.
It mightn’t be love but the blaze of desire in his eyes was warming. Sunny slowly twirled around to give him the benefit of every angle, basking in the heat of his approval and the sexual response he stirred in her…needing to take the chill off her heart.
‘Ten out of ten?’ she asked.
‘About ten thousand out of ten!’
‘Good! Then I’ll buy it.’
‘You do that,’ he fervently approved. ‘But first come and have your finger sized for the wedding ring so our jeweler here can get moving on it.’
A wedding ring! A convulsive little shiver ran down Sunny’s spine. This wasn’t a game of fantasy dress-ups. They really were doing this…getting married!
It only took a few moments to get her finger sized. Then she was swept into choosing a bouquet from a book of photographs. There were so many pictures, they became a blur to her. When a bridal nosegay was suggested as the ideal accompaniment to her dress—complimenting it rather than distracting from it, Sunny simply let herself be guided.
It was also suggested that a pretty coronet of flowers matching those in the bouquet, would look better than a veil. Sunny instantly agreed. No veil. Somehow a veil was going too far, a mockery of what a wedding should stand for. Not even for her future children would she wear a veil. She simply couldn’t bear it…Bryce lifting it off her face as though she were a true bride.
No!
She would pledge herself to him bare-faced. Let there be at least that honesty between them.
With everything decided upon, delivery to the hotel was promised within the hour.
Back at the hotel, Bryce had lined up a hairdresser, a beautician and a manicurist to give Sunny every bit of pampering a bride could possibly want. Although the whole process felt more and more like a charade, since it all took place in their suite, it was easy enough to submit to it.
Trays of tempting finger food were brought to her, meant to satisfy any hunger pangs. Champagne was served. Sunny forced herself to nibble a few delicacies since fainting at the altar was hardly a good start to any marriage. The champagne was a good nerve-soother, but she was careful only to sip it occasionally. Being a drunk bride wasn’t a good start, either.
The whirl of activity centred on her kept Sunny from thinking too much. She had to make more choices about her fingernails, her hair, her make-up, how the coronet of flowers was to sit. Only when all the preparations had been completed, and a fully dressed and meticulously groomed bride looked back at her from the mirror, did her nerves stage a revolt against any possible soothing. They plunged straight into an agitated tangle.
All the helpers had retired from setting the scene. The show was about to go on, except it wasn’t a show. It was real, and the lines she would speak—the vows she would take—would affect the rest of her life.
‘You take my breath away.’
Bryce…standing in the doorway…shaking his head as though she were a miracle he couldn’t quite believe in. He took her breath away, too, looking utterly superb in a formal grey morning suit, a touch of cream in his silk cravat and a cream boutonniere to match the exquisite little flowers in her bouquet.
‘Time for our photo call in the chapel studio,’ he said huskily, pushing forward to collect her and take her with him.
Sunny took a deep breath and turned towards him, managing a somewhat shaky smile as she said, ‘I’m ready.’
‘Not quite.’ His smile was a warm caress, driving off the rush of goose bumps on her skin. He took her left hand and slowly slid a magnificent emerald ring onto her third finger. ‘I chose this for you. I hope you like it.’
‘Bryce…’ She could barely choke out his name.
Not a bigger diamond than Derek’s. An emerald…and she felt his green eyes burning into her heart, willing her to take it without question, and wear it because it was his gift to her, his promise which would not be shabbily broken as Derek’s had.
She swallowed hard to remove the constricting lump in her throat. ‘It’s…it’s wonderful. Thank you.’
He wrapped his hand around hers and heaved a satisfied sigh. ‘Let’s go and get married.’
The final act.
Somehow his ring and his hand sealed it for Sunny.
The decision was made…the outcome inevitable.
The half-hour photographic session in the chapel studio seemed to pass in a matter of minutes. Bryce was there with