Platinum Grooms: Pregnant at the Wedding. Sara Orwig
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alone with him mushroomed.
The hours dragged until finally she decided it was time to go. Last-second jitters sent a tingle up her spine.
She worked her way around the room, and when she reached Ryan, she took his hand.
He turned to look at her and excused himself from those around him. She led him to the dance floor and stepped into his arms.
“We can leave now, but I wanted one last dance,” she said, and saw a flare of satisfaction in his expression.
“Aah, that’s the best news since the minister pronounced us man and wife. And it’s not as if we can’t dance on our honeymoon.”
“This is magical, Ryan. I want to dance and remember it,” she said.
“I’m encouraged if you’re really enjoying yourself and want memories of today.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her tenderly while they danced to the slow number. “This is the beginning, Ashley. Life will be good between us.”
“I hope so,” she answered solemnly, her heart thumping over his words, and hope kindling that his love would blossom.
The minute the music ended, he took her hand. “C’mon, Ashley, we’ve partied and danced and schmoozed all afternoon. I finally can have you all to myself.”
“Let’s tell our families goodbye before we go, and let a few other people know.”
He groaned. “That’ll take another hour.”
“But that’s what we’re going to do,” she insisted.
“Let’s just get away and let them all party. Look—everyone is having a grand time. They won’t even know,” Ryan urged.
“As if you can slip away from anything without being noticed! No, we’ll say goodbye and give our friends a chance to throw balloons at us.”
It was almost an hour later when Ryan took her hand and they dashed to the waiting limo, past their well-wishing guests. Their driver sped away toward the airport.
Ashley had given a dress to Ryan to have ready for her later and as soon as they were airborne, she changed to a pale blue silk sheath.
“You look as beautiful as ever,” he said when she returned to sit by him. He had shed his coat and sat facing her with his long legs stretched out.
“Thank you,” she replied. “Now you have to tell me where we’re headed for our honeymoon.”
He leaned forward to take her hands in his. His hands were warm and he looked surprised. “You can’t be cold! Nervous?”
“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “This is a giant commitment.”
“New and wonderful,” he said, surprised at himself because he not only hadn’t expected to be married at this age, but he never would have guessed he could be so happy about it.
“Tonight we’ll stay at one of my hotels in Houston, and tomorrow we’ll fly to my villa on the Yucatan Peninsula.”
“How many homes do you own?” she asked, constantly reminded of how little she knew him.
“I have my condo and this villa. Everywhere else, I stay in a hotel.”
“I hope you’re right about marrying like this, Ryan,” she said solemnly, and he reached out to take her hand and pull her onto his lap. She glanced at his mouth, wanting his kisses, yet intending to wait until they were off the plane and alone.
“I know I”m right,” he said, carefully beginning to take her hair down, removing first one pin and then another to let her long blond hair fall free.
She grasped his wrist. “I’ll look all mussed up when we go into the hotel.”
“You’ll look absolutely gorgeous. I like your hair down, so it might as well be that way sooner rather than later,” he said, while pulling out another pin. He tilted her face up to his. “Not still angry with me, are you?”
She shrugged. “Not about Kayla.”
“Thank heavens. I’d forgotten about her. I hope you will. She’s history, Ashley.”
“Good. I still can’t keep from wishing we’d waited for love to come first.”
“It will,” he said with his usual assurance. “And I look forward to when you tell me I was right.”
“You may prove to be correct, but your method was too cavalier. You’re too strong willed and certain you’re right. If you’ll stop making every decision for me, I’ll be a lot more happy.”
“I had no idea that I was doing so. You’ve seemed pretty damn independent.”
“Not since I met you,” she argued, releasing some of her pent-up feelings.
“We’re not going to quarrel today,” he said, his voice dropping as he twirled a strand of her hair in his fingers. “You looked fantastic for the wedding,” he added in a deeper tone. “I’ll never get tired of just looking at you.”
“Yes, you will,” she said, smiling at him, warmed and flattered by his compliment in spite of her harsh words to him. “You’ll get very tired of it before a week, with just the two of us. I hope you brought a good book to read.”
“On my honeymoon—never! There’ll be plenty to do that you’ll like. You’ll see. Trust me, you won’t need a book,” he said, nuzzling her neck, while his hand drifted along her arm.
She closed her eyes, relishing the sensations he caused, knowing if they got beyond just kisses, she would forget her surroundings and all thoughts of waiting until later for lovemaking.
A pang of wishful thinking rocked her while she caressed his nape. If only they were wildly in love how different this day and tonight would be! She opened her eyes to run her fingers through his thick hair as he pressed sultry kisses on her throat.
She wanted his love instead of this impetuous union where sex and the baby were the big ties for Ryan. She inhaled, closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about the absence of his love.
Finally, gulping for air, she scooted off his lap to another seat while she straightened her clothing. She looked up to find him studying her with a scalding look that blatantly undressed her.
“Slow down, Ryan. Your kisses are melting me and we’re not alone up here. We wait until we’re in the hotel room in Houston.”
“I’ll be patient, but I don’t want to,” he said in a husky voice she barely recognized.
They landed in bright sunshine and drove to the hotel. Soon Ryan was opening the door to a suite on the top floor. He picked her up to carry her inside. “Now we really begin our lives together as Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Warner,” he said.
Eight
Solemnly, she wrapped her arm around his neck. Everything they did made her long for a deep, binding love between them. Reminding herself to be thankful for what he was giving her—marriage to him, his name, financial support forever for their baby—she tried to cling to positives.
As he carried her over the threshold and closed the door behind them, she had a momentary glimpse of a spacious room furnished in white and pale blue, with elegant fruitwood furniture and a balcony beyond glass doors. A huge bouquet of gerbera daises and orange tiger lilies in a crystal vase stood on a low table. Sparkling cider was already on ice, ordered in advance by Ryan.
Closing the door, he set her on her feet and slid one arm around her waist, drawing her against him.
Her husband. Mrs. Ryan Warner. How long would it take for her to accept it?
“We’re starting life together and I expect it to be fabulous,” he said quietly.
She placed her hand on Ryan’s cheek. “I told you,