She couldn’t tell Katie they weren’t in love, really. “I suppose tonight,” she said reluctantly.
“The family’s going to be so rapt!” Katie said. “You’ll be legally one of us. Can we tell Mum and Dad tomorrow? Or does Marcus want to do it?”
“I haven’t said yes,” Jenna reminded her.
“Of course you’re going to say yes! You and Marcus—it’s perfect! I don’t know why none of us realized before. You’re both a bit reserved and serious, deep waters and all that, and you like heaps of the same things! He’s always looked out for you, but you were the one who stood up to him when we were kids. He needs someone he can’t push around. You’re obviously made for each other.”
“We are?”
“Totally. But I guess you know that. Wait till I tell Dean!”
“You can’t!”
“Well, not until you’ve said yes, I suppose,” Katie sulked. She gave a little bounce on the bed, sitting up. “Phone him.”
“Phone Dean?”
“Marcus, you idiot! Phone him and put the poor man out of his misery. He’ll be home by now.”
She bounded into the sitting room and came back with the portable receiver in her hand, thrusting it at Jenna before sitting cross-legged on the bed.
Her delighted enthusiasm was hard to resist. Apparently it didn’t occur to her to give Jenna privacy. “Go on,” she urged, and reeled off the number.
Why not? Jenna thought recklessly. Of course she wasn’t doing it simply because she didn’t want to disappoint Katie. There were lots of other, better reasons. If all the Crossans felt as Katie did, and Dean was going to marry Callie anyway, why shouldn’t she accept Marcus’s proposal? It was probably the best offer she’d get.
Nearly perfect, in fact, except that he was the wrong man. Which he knew and didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t as though she would be doing it under false pretences. He himself had used the incentive of a closer tie to his family, knowing what a tempting bait that was for her.
As if in a dream her fingers pressed the buttons. She lifted the receiver to her ear and heard the ringing tone. Maybe he wasn’t home yet after all.
Then his voice said, strong and deep in her ear, “Hello?”
“Marcus?” Her hand was shaking and damp. She licked her lips.
“Jenna.” He waited.
She looked up at Katie who nodded vigorously, both thumbs held up, a huge, encouraging smile on her face.
Jenna cleared her throat. “I just want to say…the answer’s yes.”
For a minute she was afraid he hadn’t heard. Then she heard him let out a breath. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much, darling.”
Darling. Strangely, her heart seemed to melt, turning to a warm little mass. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for asking me.”
He laughed rather unsteadily. “That’s very sweet. I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“I’m calling from there.”
He made a soft, indefinable sound. “I’ll let you sleep then. And Jenna…?”
“Yes?”
“I love you. I’m glad you called.”
“I…I love you too,” she said, conscious of Katie shamelessly listening. It wasn’t a lie. As he’d pointed out, there were different kinds of love.
Marcus bought her a solitaire diamond set in a narrow hoop of gold. Later she phoned her mother with the news while he sat at her side.
“She’s pleased,” she said, handing him the receiver. “She wants to talk to you.”
He took Jenna’s hand in his free one, playing with the new ring on her finger while he spoke to her mother. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you. And I’m a lucky man…. We haven’t discussed the date, but very soon.”
Jenna looked up at him, her eyes widening, and he went on talking to Karen. “I thought we’d have it here in Auckland, if you don’t object. Of course we’ll consult you about arrangements. My mother will be delighted to help…. Sure…here she is again.” He handed the receiver back to Jenna.
After she’d hung up he said, “Do you want a big affair with all the trimmings?”
“No!”
“Sure?” His look was penetrating.
“Absolutely.”
“That’s good, because I’d like to do this quietly. And quickly.”
“Quickly?” Her heart skipped a beat.
“I don’t see any reason to wait, do you?”
Jenna swallowed. “I suppose not.”
“Are you having second thoughts?” He looked grim, his hand tightening fractionally on hers.
“Are you?” she asked him.
“No. I know what I want, Jenna.”
Jenna sat in silence for a second or two. For so long a time she had wanted Dean. It was difficult to break the habit. But she must move on—had moved on.
She’d agreed to marry Marcus, who wanted her in a way that Dean never had.
And she wanted him in the most fundamental, physical way, at least. He was an attractive, sexy man with his own successful business, and she knew he was decent, hardworking, kind. What more could any woman ask for?
She lifted her head. “I said I’d marry you. I won’t go back on it.”
“Good.” She saw him relax. “Will a month give you enough time to get a dress and do whatever else you need to?”
“A month?” Her eyes widened.
“Why not?”
“Dean…” she said feebly “…and Callie.” Marcus’s face had gone taut and narrow-eyed. “What about them?”
“We shouldn’t steal their thunder. I mean, getting married before them. They were engaged first.”
Katie had suggested a double wedding, to Jenna’s dismay. Marcus had retorted curtly he had no intention of sharing his wedding day with anyone except his bride.
His eyes held hers, seeming to search the depths. “They haven’t set a date,” he said. “And I don’t feel inclined to hold back until they do.”
He held back in other ways during the next four weeks. Jenna had capitulated on the date after Katie told her that Callie and her parents were still discussing whether the wedding would be in America or New Zealand. “Her parents would like to give her a traditional wedding over there, and naturally Callie wants her friends around her. Mum and Dad are happy to have it here, but either way one family’s going to have to travel.”
Compared with the logistics of that wedding, Jenna and Marcus’s was an exercise in simplicity. Katie helped Jenna choose an off-the-peg white silk dress trimmed with teardrop pearls. Marcus booked a chapel close to his parents’ home, and the guest list was limited to the families and about twenty friends.
Marcus hired caterers, vetoing his mother’s offer of doing the food herself. “I said a small celebration,” he told her, “not a cheap one. And I want you to enjoy yourself, not be worrying over heating savories and whipping cream.”
Katie was Jenna’s only attendant, and Dean waited beside his brother at the altar. There was no way Marcus could have asked anyone else.
Escorted down the aisle by her stepfather, Jenna kept her gaze straight ahead.
When she raised her eyes to his face, Marcus looked serious and tense, but his lips moved in a slight smile as the celebrant began the marriage service.
Jenna spoke her responses in a voice that shook only slightly. Marcus made his firmly, but when he placed the ring on her finger she noticed his were trembling, so that he fumbled a little before slipping it over her knuckle.
He lifted back the short veil and kissed her, his lips warm and somehow reassuring. His hand was firmly wound about hers as they went to sign the register, and when they walked back along the length of the chapel.
Dean slapped his brother’s back and kissed Jenna briefly on the lips. She hardly felt it. Katie hugged her exuberantly, and her mother, smiling mistily, came to kiss her cheek, followed by Mrs. Crossan.
There were photographs and congratulations and, back at the Crossans’ house, a babble of noise, lots of champagne, more cong
ratulations and a few short speeches.
She was aware of Marcus at her side, taking her arm, seeing that she had a drink, making her eat something. But everything was a blur until they left the house and ran to his car.
They hadn’t escaped a hail of confetti. Jenna flicked it from her sleeves and shook out her skirt, and once he was sure they hadn’t been followed, Marcus stopped the car and brushed some from his shoulders, then ruffled his fingers through his hair, scattering tiny rounds on the floor of the car.
“There’s more,” Jenna told him.
“You do it.” He bent his head for her, and she reached up to pick out the stray scraps of color. His hair was soft and warm against her fingers.
“Thanks,” he said when she sat back. “My turn.”
She felt the light touch of his fingers in her hair, moving through it. When he was done he smoothed it back over one ear and his hand curved about her nape while a thumb stroked her cheek. “All right?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
He studied her face. “Not nervous of me, are you, Jenna?”
Jenna bit her lip. She felt tense, and foolish. “Not of you.”
“Of this whole business?” he guessed. His thumb moved over her mouth, and a pleasurable sensation uncurled in her midriff.
Marcus said, “I won’t hurry you. We’re married. There’s a whole lifetime ahead of us.”
He leaned forward and gave her a quick, reassuring kiss. Then he released her and restarted the car.
Chapter Eight
During their short engagement Marcus’s kisses had been passionate, his caresses sometimes intimate. But he had stopped their lovemaking short of consummation, leaving Jenna tense and dissatisfied.
She supposed he was respecting her virginity, and she had always intended to be a virgin bride, but she sometimes wondered if he was deliberately keeping her in a state of suspense so she wouldn’t want to delay the wedding. The breathtaking speed with which he’d arranged everything indicated that he might not be sure she’d go through with it.
Well, she had. And now, as he’d said, they were married, with a lifetime ahead of them.
But first there was tonight.
Marcus had booked them into a city hotel where they would stay before flying to Rarotonga in the Cook Islands for a week.
The room wasn’t the honeymoon suite, but it had a magnificent view of the blue-green expanse of the Waitemata Harbor—and sported a king-size bed. A small table flanked by easy chairs held a foil-topped bottle and two glass flutes.
Jenna averted her eyes from the bed and went to the windows. Dusk was falling. Lights flickered on along the water’s edge and outlined the ships tied up at the wharf, reflected in wavy lines that appeared to plunge into the restless sea.
Marcus came to stand beside her, an arm about her shoulders, and they watched in silence as more lights winked on and the water darkened. A few pale stars jeweled the sky.
He moved his hand to the back of her neck and began massaging it. It was soothing and yet erotic. She tipped her head forward, allowing his clever, strong fingers to ease away the tension that had held her all day.
“I thought we might ask room service to send up a meal,” he said.
“Mmm. All right.” When his fingers stilled on her nape, she tipped her head back against his hand.
He dipped his head swiftly, his lips meeting hers as he stepped close and angled her to him.
Jenna answered his kiss without pretence, her lips parted and eager, and after a few moments she turned to him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. He went momentarily still as if taken aback, then his fingers were in her hair and the kiss became deeper, their bodies pressing close.
Marcus lifted his head, and his hands skimmed down her back, closed about her hips to put an inch or two of space between them. His eyes were very dark, and a layer of color outlined his cheekbones. “About that meal,” he said, his voice low and rasping.
“What meal?” Jenna’s arms were still loosely hooked about his neck, and she sent him a calculatedly provocative look.
Marcus appeared slightly dazed. “The one I thought we’d have with the champagne.” He indicated the bottle on the table. “Before…”
“Do you plan to get me drunk again?”
His mouth curved in a bemused smile. “A bit more relaxed. I thought you were scared.”
A tremor of nervous excitement fluttered in her stomach. “There has to be a first time.”
The smile became strained. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” he said gravely. “Not if you’d rather wait.”
Something melted warmly inside her. Despite his haste to marry her, and the desire he hadn’t tried to hide, he was still prepared to let her set the pace. That was a gesture of chivalry she hadn’t expected, and yet it was characteristic of Marcus.
She touched her tongue to her lips. “I don’t want to wait. Do you?”
His chest moved on a harsh breath. He tightened his hands again on her hips and brought her close to him. “In the stupid-questions department, my darling wife,” he said, “that takes first prize.”
She was laughing when he kissed her again, stifling the laughter with his mouth, and she wound her arms about him and clung while she kissed him back without inhibition, teasing him with her tongue and her teeth.
He drew away, breathing hard, and looked down at her with narrow, glittering eyes. “Who taught you to kiss like that?”
“You did,” she taunted breathlessly. “Are you complaining?”
“Hell, no!” Without warning he picked her up in his arms and strode to the bed, lowering her onto the cover.
She kicked her shoes to the floor. Marcus sat on the bed and bent to remove his shoes and socks, threw off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, discarding that too.
Jenna watched, her heart beating fast and hard, a delicious desire suffusing her body.
Marcus stood up and went back to the table, dispensed with the foil top and the cork on the bottle, and poured champagne into the flutes as vapor curled from the neck.
He carried the glasses and bottle to the night table by the bed and put them down. “Move over.”
When she had, he turned back the bed covers and stacked a couple of pillows, inviting her to lean on them while he dealt with the other half of the bed.
He settled beside her and handed her a glass, clicked his against it. “To us.”
Holding her eyes with his, he half emptied his glass. Jenna sipped at hers, the crisp, tart bubbles bursting on her tongue.
And then Marcus closed the few inches between them, and she felt his tongue on her lips, tasting the champagne.
She made a small, startled sound, and he drew back. “You don’t like it?” He looked at her questioningly.
“No! I mean, it’s not that.”
He smiled slowly. “You do like it?”
She had to swallow some more of the champagne before answering. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” And he lowered his head again.
He dipped a forefinger into his glass and touched it to the hollow at the base of her throat, and she felt the coolness before he bent forward again and licked the wine away.
Jenna’s lips parted and a wild heat flared in her cheeks. His eyes gleaming slits, Marcus kissed her again, deep and demanding, pressing her back against the pillows. The glass she held shook so much that some of the liquid spilled over her hand.
When they surfaced from the kiss he looked the way she felt—dazed and aroused. A trickle of champagne moistened his shoulder, and a lone droplet ran down to his chest. Daringly, she leaned forward and captured it with her tongue.
Marcus sucked in an audible breath. He downed the remainder of his drink in a single swallow and placed the glass on the night table. With an air of determination he began to undo the buttons on the front of her shirt.
The lace cups of her bra barely covered half her breasts, leaving the rest exposed to
his gaze. Her heart thumped as he looked his fill before tracing the outline of the lace with a fingertip. He pushed the shirt from her shoulders and she helped him get it off.
Then he snapped open the fastener of her pants, and unzipped them.
“Lift up,” he said, and she helped him peel off the pants.
Underneath she wore a minuscule garment that matched her bra.
“Very nice.”
Jenna gulped down some more of her wine. She was both nervous and fascinated.
Then he leaned over and kissed her again.
A sweet tension began to build inside her. Her head buzzed. She tightened her fingers on the glass in her hand and made a frantic little movement.
Marcus withdrew his mouth from hers and took the glass, placing it beside his own, then he was shifting her farther down the bed, kissing her again, his hands making wonderful magic. And she reciprocated, finding his body unfamiliar but increasingly fascinating.
At last Jenna made an inarticulate sound in her throat. Marcus lifted his head. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She could hardly get the single word out.
He smoothed her tumbled hair and kissed her forehead. “There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
Jenna wasn’t frightened; she was desperate for him. And desperately grateful for his careful initiation.
It was both strange and exciting. When he glided home, the fragile barrier stopped him, and she saw his cheeks tauten. He stilled, waiting for her, breathing cautiously.
Jenna moved tentatively, then as the barrier frustrated her she set her teeth and took the initiative.
It hurt, and she cried out softly in pain.
“I’m sorry, darling,” she heard Marcus say. “If you want to stop…”
Fiercely she shook her head, and closed her teeth on her lower lip.
The barrier was gone. The hurt lessened. And soon she was soaring, and knew that he too had reached the pinnacle, holding her tightly while they both shuddered into quiescence, panting against each other.
He turned to her and kissed her deeply. Then his lips left hers and he said, “Are you all right?”
“Perfectly.” She hung her arms about his neck. “Are you?”
Marrying Marcus Page 9
