The Playboy King's Wife. Emma Darcy
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no honey in her nature to start with.
Vulnerable? Well, maybe Miranda had put her in high heels and she was scared of wobbling up the aisle or tripping over herself. Sam would certainly hate looking less than competent. She probably felt like a fish out of water in female finery, having prided herself on mastering a man’s world from the day she was born a girl instead of a boy.
It was to be hoped she didn’t fall flat on her face. He wouldn’t wish that humiliation on her, not in front of this crowd and right at the beginning of the wedding, though she was damned good at dishing out humiliation herself. Not only was she a first-class expert at one-upmanship, she nitpicked everything he did, as though she always knew better. The exasperating part was that too often she proved she was right.
Which annoyed the hell out of him.
One of these days he was going to get the better of Sam Connelly. But, given his promise to his mother, today was not the day. Unless…
A smile twitched at his lips. What if he gave her the full playboy charm treatment on this auspicious occasion…bridesmaid and best man? Shower her with compliments. Keep pressing to do whatever would make her feel happy. Focus on her needs and desires. In short—bewilder, bewitch and bedazzle. He broke into a chuckle at the thought of clipping Sam’s claws, one by one.
“What’s amusing you?” Nathan asked.
“You may not be the only winner today, big brother,” he answered with a grin.
Nathan looked about to pursue the point, but the pastor hailed him, breaking away from a group of guests he’d been chatting to and joining them as they reached the gazebo. With any private conversation diverted, Tommy contented himself envisaging various scenarios between him and Sam, where she would be left floundering under a barrage of unquenchable charm.
The sight of his mother emerging onto the red carpet aisle jolted his mind back onto the job of getting this wedding under way. He signalled to Albert and the other tribal elder, Ernie, to take their seats on either side of the gazebo. Out they came from amongst their families, carrying their didgeridoos—the long wooden instruments highly polished for the occasion—and with great dignity, settled themselves ready to play.
His mother reached the top of the aisle and held out her arms in a gathering gesture. With great excitement, the children streamed out from their shaded seats, all the girls under twelve years old from the station families, and two boys from the Aboriginal community. They were all puffed up with self-importance as they lined up in front of the gazebo, the boys in front, their sleek brown bodies daubed in ceremonial patterns, and both of them carrying a tribal spear, six girls in pairs behind them, looking very cute in frilly lilac dresses, white socks and shoes, little white daisies circling their hair, and carrying pretty white baskets filled with rose petals.
His mother had a few quiet words with them. There was much earnest nodding. Then off they went down the aisle, the girls positioning themselves at their allotted intervals, the boys marching straight for the white lattice gates which they were to open at the first long note from the didgeridoos. As soon as the boys were in place, his mother took her seat.
“Ready?” Tommy couldn’t resist shooting at Nathan.
“Ready,” he replied in a heartfelt tone.
Tommy gave the nod to Albert and Ernie, and unaccountably felt a soaring anticipation himself as the ancient Aboriginal instruments started their deep, rhythmic thrum, calling up the good spirits from the Dreamtime to bless this union with longevity and fertility. It was a sound that seemed to reverberate through the heart, linking everyone to an earthbeat as old as time itself.
In unison, the boys opened the gates wide…and out stepped…Sam?
Disbelief seized Tommy’s mind.
Sam…looking like some stunning model from a fashion magazine?
A shower of rose petals dotted his vision for a moment but then she walked past them without the slightest wobble in her step. She was carrying herself straight and tall, just as his mother did. Tall? Her hair was up! The mop of bouncy red ringlets wasn’t a mop anymore. It was sleeked back from her face and tamed into a sophisticated arrangement on top of her head, gleaming like burnished copper, and set off with a lilac rose nestled artistically to one side.
A brilliant touch, that rose. Made Sam look elegant and seductively feminine. And the dress she was wearing was downright sexy! Looked as though she had been poured into it, the shiny fabric emphasising a very female figure, surprisingly well-rounded breasts holding up the strapless bodice—tantalising hint of cleavage there—and a waist small enough to give a man a snug handhold, a waist that highlighted perfectly curved hips that were swaying from side to side with almost mesmerising grace.
Over her stomach she held a dainty bouquet of white daisies and green leaves, and beneath that the movement of her legs, pushing rhythmically at the shiny, slippery, slim-line skirt was incredibly sensual. Tommy started to feel the pricking of desire and a strong urge to act on it. Another shower of rose petals reminded him of where he was and the dignity required of a best man. He wrenched his gaze up from the dangerously exciting skirt.
Lovely shoulders, neck…and she was wearing pearls! A pendant gleaming on her skin below her throat and droplet earrings dangling provocatively on either side of her face. And where had her freckles gone? One thing was certain. She didn’t look like anyone’s kid sister!
There was nothing forbidding about that face. It was pure come-hither, her mouth painted with soft lipstick, cheekbones shaded to an exotic slant, eyebrows peaking and winging, drawing his attention to the milky smoothness of a forehead he’d never seen before, and her eyes…somehow bigger and more luminous.
Eyes fastened on him…delivering a sharp kick to his heart. The sultry look she was giving him simmered with sexual promises. His skin suddenly tingled from the top of his scalp to his toes. Countless times he had told himself he didn’t want Sam Connelly. A man would have to be a masochist to want her. But this wasn’t the Sam he knew. This was…
Samantha!
O-o-o-oh yes! His mother had that much right.
And if ever there was a walking invitation to discover another side of Sam, this was it, and any thought of being lumbered with having to do right by her or even amusing himself with games, went right out of Tommy King’s mind.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAM WAS NOT sick with envy during the wedding ceremony. She was sick with excitement. The way Tommy had looked at her as she’d walked up the aisle kept buzzing through her mind and churning her insides to such a pitch she wasn’t even aware that the bride and groom were up to exchanging vows over the wedding ring until Miranda turned to give Sam her bouquet to hold.
In no time at all the pastor was declaring Nathan and Miranda “Husband and Wife,” and they were moving towards the table at the back of the gazebo to register the marriage in the official book and sign the certificate.
Sam’s heart was thumping hard as she and Tommy followed. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him, afraid she had read too much into his expression, and now that the surprise of her appearance was over, there might only be the usual teasing glint in his eyes.
“Quite a revelation,” he murmured.
“What?” The word tripped out before she could catch it back. Desperate to know if he was baiting her, as usual, she risked a quick glance at his face.
“You in all your glory,” he answered, his eyes warmly caressing, not even a twinkle of mischief.
“Miranda’s choice,” she mumbled, thrown into hot confusion by his open admiration and hopelessly inept at accepting such a personal compliment.
“You grace it with high distinction,” came the smooth rejoinder, his voice sounding sincere.
“Thank you,” she managed this time, grateful for a second chance to give a gracious response.
He lightly