Wedding Party Collection: Don't Tell The Bride: What the Bride Didn't Know / Black Widow Bride / His Valentine Bride. Kelly Hunter
Читать онлайн книгу.
‘About what?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘I do want to know.’
‘Your sister took a fall today and hit her head.’
‘I’m putting you on speaker phone.’ Nothing but tight concern in Damon’s voice now.
‘She’s had an MRI and the doctors saw nothing to concern them. They’ve released her from the hospital, but she has concussion and some memory loss.’ He paused and wondered how best to deliver this next bit. ‘She thinks we’re married.’
He thought he heard scuffling and Ruby’s low laughter, and then Ruby’s voice came through warm and smoothly amused. ‘How did that happen?’
‘Lena had no ID when we got to the hospital and I had all mine. Easier to claim her and get her in front of a doctor and think about other consequences later. Ruby, she doesn’t even remember Jared. She thinks we’re on our honeymoon. She’s back in the room. She thinks we share a bed! Do you have any idea how much I want to share that bed?’ His voice had risen an octave or two.
‘Touch my sister under those conditions and I will gut you,’ said Damon.
‘Don’t threaten him,’ muttered Ruby. ‘How is that helpful?’
‘He doesn’t need to threaten me. If I take her now, I’ll gut myself. She keeps getting me to hold her, Ruby. She wants the reassurance. She thinks she’s my wife. You’re a wife. What do I do?’
‘You hold her, you moron.’
‘Dead moron,’ added Damon.
‘What if she doesn’t get her memory back? What if she wakes up in the morning and still thinks she’s Mrs Lena Sinclair?’
‘Got a nice ring to it,’ said Ruby.
‘Not helping.’
‘Trig, sweetie. If Lena still thinks she’s married to you in the morning, head on home to the beach house and we’ll meet you there. Stay married, at least in Lena’s eyes. Bring her home. That’s my advice.’
‘I can do that.’
‘We know you can. That’s why no one here is pacing around the room like a lunatic.’ Ruby’s voice had softened. ‘Adrian, honey, give Lena a cuddle if she needs one—no one’s going to castrate you for that, not even Lena when her memory returns. Just don’t let the fairy tale get out of hand. Tell her you want to wait until she’s fully recovered before you initiate marital relations. That’s the truth anyway, isn’t it? There has to be some reason you haven’t made your move yet.’
‘Does fear of rejection count?’
‘We all own that one,’ said Ruby dryly. ‘Don’t go thinking you’re special.’
‘Not special,’ he said.
‘But very worthy,’ said Ruby quickly. ‘Just because you shouldn’t be making your move on Lena now, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be making one at all. Move, by all means. We all want to see that.’
‘You do?’ He’d never really broached the subject of his feelings for Lena with any of her siblings before, but he wanted their approval. Jared’s most of all. ‘You speaking for Damon now too?’
‘Yes,’ said Damon. ‘And Damon’s speaking for the family.’
‘That include Jared?’
‘Proxy vote,’ said Damon. ‘Jared’s not here.’
‘I suggest you let Lena deal with Jared in the unlikely event that he objects to you courting her,’ said Ruby. ‘The man owes her.’
‘For what?’
‘Disappearing. Putting vengeance before family.’ Ruby’s voice had cooled considerably, but Ruby’s father had disappeared without a trace too. Ruby knew what it felt like to be one of the ones they left behind. ‘Brother Jared needs to spend some time in the naughty corner when he finally reappears.’
The words if he reappears went unspoken but Trig heard them anyway. ‘You could suggest it to him,’ he muttered. ‘Although, fair warning, Jared doesn’t take too kindly to reprimand.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ said Ruby, and then she yawned.
Damn but she could make him grin. ‘I want front-row tickets to your first meeting with Jared. And popcorn.’
‘Get in line,’ said Damon. ‘Take care of my sister. You’ve got this. I trust you.’
* * *
A substantially calmer Trig returned to the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath and searched for some of that steely resolve that everyone else seemed to think he had an endless supply of. He headed for the beds and for Lena who was in one of those beds, hurt and confused and...
Fast asleep.
Tuesday morning broke with the sound of the dawn prayer. Istanbul, thought Lena. I’m in Istanbul with its mosques and its rich cultural history and its slick market thieves. Her head throbbed when she moved it ever so slightly—time for more painkillers. There they were on the bedside table with a glass of water beside them, two of them, ready to go.
She eased up onto her elbow and reached for them with her spare hand, and then reached for the water to wash them down with. Give it five or ten minutes and the throbbing would stop and the fog would take over, fog being preferable to pain on most occasions, both of them preferable to being dead.
She rolled over, careful not to lie on the lump on her head, and there was Trig, next to her on the bed, faint shadows beneath his eyes and those long girly lashes. He looked younger in sleep and his body was even bigger up close.
He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
The urge to touch him became unbearable and she scooted closer and slid her hand across his chest. She’d have plastered herself against the rest of him only he’d slept on top of the covers rather than between them. Five more minutes, maybe ten, and the throbbing would stop and maybe she’d be able to do something about waking him in ways a man on his honeymoon might want to be woken, but for now just resting her cheek on his shoulder would do.
And then he rolled towards her and the covers got shoved to the bottom of the bed as he gathered her close and wrapped his arms around her. Target acquired, mission accomplished, and with the faintest rumbling sigh he slid straight back into sleep.
Five more minutes, she thought as she burrowed into his warmth. Five more minutes.
Or maybe an hour.
* * *
Trig woke slowly, with Lena wrapped around him like a limpet and strands of silky black hair tickling his jaw. She stirred as soon as he shifted, and snuggled in closer even as he tried to draw away.
‘Lena—’ Somehow, one of his hands had made its way to her waist. The other one had journeyed a little lower. Neither hand was in any hurry to let go. ‘Lena, I need to get up.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I really do.’ He pressed a brief kiss to her shoulder and then peeled himself out of there, one reluctant limb at a time. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’
‘You.’
She still had her eyes closed. She’d rolled over into his warm spot, tucked her arms beneath his pillow and probably wasn’t awake enough to know what she was saying.
‘And some of that yoghurt you got me yesterday. And the tea,’ she mumbled into the pillow.
‘So you do