The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

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The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections - Louise Allen


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vulnerable, and it moved her more than anything he could have said.

      ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

      He needed to show her just how much she meant to him…and he did, with such thoroughness the end of the day faded into night, and it was after midnight when they raided the fridge, made an omelette, toast, and washed them both down with coffee.

      ‘Groceries!’ Cassandra exclaimed in despair. ‘I left them in my car.’ She thought of spoiled milk and other comestibles, and shook her head.

      ‘Do you have any specific plans over the next few weeks?’ Diego queried idly. She looked adorable, sparkling eyes, warm skin, and gloriously tumbled hair. He reached out a hand and pushed an errant swathe back behind her ear.

      ‘Any particular reason?’

      His smile assumed musing indulgence. ‘A wedding. Ours.’

      There would come a day when nothing he did or said would surprise her…but she had a way to go before that happened.

      ‘Something low-key, in deference to your father. Just family, a few close friends. If you have your heart set on a traditional ceremony, we can reaffirm our vows in a few months.’

      ‘Weeks?’ Cassandra reiterated with a sense of stunned amusement. ‘I’m due in Rome this weekend for Siobhan’s wedding—’

      ‘Perfect. We’ll fly in together, spend some time there—’

      She put up a hand. ‘Whoa! You’re going too fast.’

      ‘And arrive back in time to meet our marriage-application requirements,’ he concluded.

      ‘The honeymoon before the wedding?’ She tried for humour, and didn’t quite make it.

      ‘You object?’

      How could she, when all she wanted to do was be with him? ‘You take my breath away,’ she admitted shakily in an attempt to get her head around organising a wedding, travel plans for Rome. Then there was work…

      He witnessed her emotional struggle, and sought to ease it. ‘All it involves is a series of phone calls. Let me take care of it.’

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ROME was magical, with Siobhan’s wedding to her Italian count a glamorous event with much love and rejoicing.

      The week that followed became a special time as Diego indulged Cassandra in a tour of the city’s galleries, the exclusive jewellery boutiques, with leisurely lunches in one trendy trattoria or another. At night they visited a theatre, or lingered over dinner.

      And made love with a passion that was both evocatively sensual and intensely primitive.

      They flew in to Sydney three days before their own wedding was scheduled to take place. Days which merged one into the other as Cassandra ran a final check with the dressmaker, the florist, caught up with Cameron, and organised the last remaining items from her apartment to Diego’s home.

      Sunday dawned bright and clear, and within hours the last-minute touches were being made by various people employed to ensure every detail represented perfection.

      Gardeners put finishing touches to the grounds, and florists lined the gazebo with white orchids. An altar was set ready for the marriage celebrant, and the caterers moved into the kitchen.

      Cameron arrived ahead of the guests, and Cassandra accepted his careful hug minutes before they were due to emerge onto the red-carpeted aisle that led to the gazebo.

      ‘Nervous?’

      ‘Just a little.’

      ‘Don’t be,’ he reassured, and she offered a shaky smile as the music began.

      Diego stood waiting for her at the altar, and Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to watch her walk towards him.

      Everything faded, and there was only the man.

      Tall, dark and attractive, resplendent in a superbly tailored suit. But it was his expression that held her entranced. There was warmth, caring…and passion evident. Qualities she knew he’d gift her for the rest of his life.

      In an unprecedented gesture he moved forward and took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, then he led her the remaining few yards to the gazebo.

      It was a simple ceremony, with a mix of conventional and personal vows. By mutual consent, they’d agreed to choose each other’s wedding ring.

      Jewellery design was her craft, and Cassandra had selected a wide gold band studded with a spaced line of diamonds. It was masculine, different, and one of her personal designs.

      There had been a degree of subterfuge in Diego’s choice, for the ring he slipped onto her finger was a feminine match of his.

      ‘For what we’ve already shared, what we have now,’ Diego said gently, adding a magnificent solitaire diamond ring together with a circle of diamonds representing eternity. ‘The future.’

      She wanted to cry and smile at the same time, and she did both, one after the other, then gave a choking laugh as Diego angled his mouth over hers in a kiss that held such a degree of sensual promise it was all she could do to hold back the tears.

      It was later, much later when they were alone, that she took the time to thank him.

      Instead of booking a hotel suite, they’d opted to remain at home. It seemed appropriate, somehow, to spend their wedding night in the bed where they’d first made love.

      ‘You’re welcome,’ Diego said gently as she slid her arms high and pulled his head down to hers.

      ‘I love you.’ Emotion reduced her voice to a husky sound. ‘I always will.’

      He brushed his lips across her forehead, then trailed a path to the edge of her mouth, angled in and took his time. ‘Mi amante, mi mujer, my life.’

      A deliciously wicked smile curved her lips. ‘Gracias, mi esposo.’

      Diego gave a husky laugh, and uttered something incomprehensible to her in Spanish.

      ‘Translate.’

      He offered a devilish grin. ‘I’ll show you.’

      And he did.

      On the edge of sleep he curled her close and held her…aware one lifetime would not be enough.

       The Martinez Marriage Revenge

      Helen Bianchin

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘CAN WE HAVE another turn? Please.’

      The noise and colour of the carnival was all around them. Loud music, laughter, childish shrieks in wonderment of the merry-go-round, the Ferris wheel … so many sideshows to capture the attention of a young child.

      There were striped tents providing exciting adventure for children, booths selling candyfloss, hot dogs, and stands offering a variety of stuffed toys as prizes for knock-em-down revolving ducks.

      Beauty in miniature, Nicki’s smile was to die for, her sunny nature a blessing, and Shannay caught her young daughter close in a loving, laughing hug.

      Small arms wound round her neck. ‘We’re having fun, aren’t we?’

      Shannay felt the familiar pull on her heartstrings for the gift of an unconditional trusting love of a child, in all its innocence.

      ‘One more time,’ she agreed,


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