The Tycoon’s Forced Bride

by Jane Porter

  She laughed, half-embarrassed, half-amused. But as the band struck up their song, and he took her right hand in his and placed his hand low on her hip, she felt a tremor of trepidation. Ava drew a slow, shuddering breath to calm herself. “I’m not much of a dancer anymore.”

  “I’ve never been much of a dancer, so that makes us even.”

  “You used to love to dance. Way back when.”

  “Only because I loved dancing with you.” His fingers curled around hers and he drew her right hand to his chest. She felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “I haven’t danced in years. Not since you were hurt.”

  The music was playing but they were hardly moving, oblivious to the guests.

  “We didn’t dance at our last wedding?”

  “No. It was a courthouse ceremony. Nothing like. No party or reception.”

  She glanced to her right, watching guests fill the dance floor. “Who are these people? Where did you find them?”

  He laughed. “The Caribbean is full of New Yorkers trying to escape the cold this time of year. It wasn’t hard to round up a few friends.”

  “You went to so much trouble.”

  “I wanted to celebrate our marriage. I wanted to celebrate you.”

  Her chest squeezed tight, constricting air. “It’s…crazy. But wonderful. I am just worried I won’t remember all of this.”

  “Then I’ll do it again and again. In fact, maybe every year on our anniversary we’ll have a big wedding and party—”

  “That’s a terrible waste of money.”

  “Not if it gives you pleasure, and lets me show you how much I love you.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her head felt light. “I still can’t believe you really do love me.”

  His eyes, more green than blue tonight, shone down at her and he stroked her flushed cheek. “Ava, why else would I have married you? I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman.”

  The slow song had ended but she didn’t move. It was impossible to move, much less think when her heart was beating so hard it threatened to burst free from her rib cage.

  He loved her. He loved her for her and they both loved Jack and she’d always loved Colm…it was too much. She couldn’t quite take it all in. Was the happy ending really hers? Was her most secret wish finally coming true?

  “Malcolm.” A woman joined them on the dance floor. She was slender and wore an elegant black sheath and matching coat.

  Colm stiffened. Ava felt him tense. “Eden.”

  The woman’s dark blonde hair was twisted in a sleek, French chignon and tiny lines creased at her eyes but they did nothing to diminish her beauty. “You’re back then?”

  His brows pulled. “I never left.”

  “You went to New York for a couple of years.”

  “I have a place in Manhattan but I never let the house go. I just closed it for a couple years.”

  Eden’s jaw tightened. “I see.”

  As if suddenly remembering Ava, Colm drew her closer to his side. “Eden, this is Ava. Ava, Eden—”

  “The ex-wife,” Eden finished coolly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‡

  Ex-wife? Ava stiffened, her insides freezing. Colm had been married before? Was that something he’d told her and she’d forgotten…or had he never told her…?

  She tried to pull away but Colm kept his arm firmly around her waist.

  “What are you doing here?” Colm asked Eden, his voice pitched low.

  Eden’s lips compressed, the fine lines at her eyes deepening. “I had to come. I had to see for myself.”

  “You weren’t invited.”

  “Half the island was invited. I don’t see what the problem was.” Eden turned to look at Ava, her expression dismissive before turning her attention back to Malcolm. “Is it true you have a son?”

  Ava shivered. Colm hugged her more firmly to his side. “Yes,” he answered shortly. “Jack.”

  Eden let out a laugh but it sounded too high, too strained. “We never started a family. I didn’t think Colm wanted a family.” She paused, and smiled at Colm, her eyes glittering with pain and rage. “Obviously, it was just not with me.”

  “Eden, you need to leave.”

  Eden glanced at Ava. “He’ll get rid of you, too. He will. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “That’s enough, Eden.” Colm gestured and one of his wait staff appeared. “Please see Ms. Vail out,” he instructed his staff.

  “It’s Mrs. McKenzie,” Eden corrected. “McKenzie. Your wife.”

  Colm didn’t respond. He turned away, and walked Ava off the dance floor.

  Ava was shaking. Her thoughts rushed in a dozen different directions, the intense emotion making it difficult to think clearly. It was shocking, so shocking.

  Ava shivered as they walked, chilled to the bone.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Colm said, breaking the tense silence.

  Ava swallowed around the bitterness in her mouth. “You never told me you were married before…or maybe you did, and I just don’t remember.”

  “I didn’t tell you.”

  “Why?”

  His broad shoulders shrugged. “It’s a period of my life I don’t focus on.”

  “Yes, but it’d would have been good to know. I would have liked to know that there had been a first Mrs. Malcolm McKenzie.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It changes nothing.”

  “It does for me!”

  He’d lead her from the party, through the garden to the master suite. The candles had ben lit. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket of ice. The bouquets of fresh flowers glowed in the soft light.

  “Why does it matter?” he asked her, closing the bedroom door behind them.

  “It just does…it’s something I would want to know. It’s something I ought to know.”

  “Why? It doesn’t have any bearing on you and me. It’s not part of the story of us—”

  “But it’s the story of you. And I realize I don’t know anything about you.”

  “Not true,” he said, loosening his bow tie. “You know I love you, and have fought for you and have fought for our future—”

  “Why did you divorce her?” She interrupted, heart aching, eyes gritty with tears she didn’t want to cry.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You don’t think I could handle it?”

  “No.” Colm shed his tuxedo jacket. “It’s complicated because I don’t even understand. We married a number of years before I met you. The marriage lasted less than a year. She was terribly unhappy and she left me. She ran off with a friend of mine. And that ended badly, too.”

  “But she said—”

  “She’s not well,” he interrupted wearily. “She’s never been well. I just didn’t know it then.”

  “But you must have loved her because you married her.”

  “She was pregnant,” he said bluntly. “Or so she said. And I married her because it was the right thing to do.”

  Ava sat down on the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m not following this very well.”

  “She told me she was pregnant. I believed her. I married her. But it turned out she wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t happy but we were married and I thought we’d try to make it work. A commitment is a commitment. But then she ran away, and I filed for divorce. And I vowed never to marry again.” He made a low, mocking sound. “By the way, this is a terrible conversation to be having on our wedding night.”

  Ava didn’t hear that last bit, too focused on what he’d said before.

  The part about Eden saying she was pregnant and Colm marrying her out of duty.

  Eden had forced his hand with a pregnancy.

  Eden had trapped him.

  Ava exhaled slowly, understanding. “That’s why you reacted to my news the way you did.” Her gaze met his. “That’s why we had that terrible fight the night of the accident. You couldn’t believe it was happening again.”

  “You and
I are different—”

  “You can be honest with me, Malcolm! You can tell me how you felt. It would help me fill in the pieces because that night wasn’t you, and me, was it? That night, and our fight, wasn’t about us, but about Eden and you.”

  “I was angry, yes.”

  “Because I was just like Eden.”

  “You’re nothing like Eden. But that night, it felt like I was being cornered all over again.”

  “I was trapping you.”

  He nodded, sighed. “I think I need a drink. Want one?” he asked her.

  Ava slid off her delicate high heels and drew her legs up. “Yes, please.”

  “Champagne?”

  “Do you have anything else?”

  “Brandy.”

  “I’ll have that.”

  “Good. Me, too.”

  For a moment, the only sound was Colm drawing out two brandy glasses and a crystal decanter from the bar adjacent to the bedroom.

  She watched as he poured them both a generous splash of brandy. “I hate secrets,” she said. “My father had a thousand and none were good. Mistresses, ex-wives, babies out of wedlock—”

  “My life is far less interesting,” Colm interrupted, walking towards her. “I only have one child and that is Jack. Our son. I would never take a mistress, or have an affair. I was with no one in the thirteen months we were apart, and would still be with no one if we weren’t together now. I have a lot of faults, but I am faithful.”

  He handed her the brandy snifter. Their fingers brushed and just that light touch flooded her with heat.

  “What else do you want to know?” he asked gruffly.

  “Everything.”

  The dim light played off his hard, hard cheekbones and his beautiful mouth. “Narrow the field a little, would you?”

  “Tell me about us,” she said carefully. “Not the us of today. But the us of the night of the accident.”

  “I don’t believe in living in the past.”

  “I know. But help me understand one more time that night, so that I can try to reconcile what I thought I knew, with what I’ve learned tonight. Please.”

  *

  Colm held his breath a moment, battling with himself, and his judgment. Tonight was supposed to be special. Tonight was supposed to be about his and Ava’s future. But here they were, once more, battling the past.

  “You and I met at a fundraiser for the ballet. I was enamored with you from the start. I took you out after a performance and we stayed in that restaurant, in that corner booth, talking for hours. Then I took you back to my place, and made love for hours and we never looked back. It worked. We worked. We were happy.”

  “But we didn’t talk about the future, did we?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “What did we talk about?”

  Her eyes were wide and dark and very somber. Colm’s lips lifted faintly. “We didn’t really talk about anything. We just enjoyed each other. And we did enjoy each other.” He hesitated. “But we’d also agreed to a relationship that had no strings, no rules, and no commitments.”

  She looked skeptical. “I don’t believe that. I can’t believe I’d ever agree to such a thing.”

  “You were career focused. Ballet was your love.” He shrugged. “It’s what you told me, time and again.”

  “And you believed that?”

  “Maybe I wanted to believe that, yes. I was happy to believe that.” Again his shoulders shifted beneath the crisp white shirt. “I didn’t want to fall in love. My marriage with Eden was so painful, I knew I’d never marry again, so a physical, sexual, pleasurable relationship with no strings attached sounded perfect.”

  “That’s why it was such a shock for you when I told you I was pregnant.”

  “Not just pregnant, but almost five months. I couldn’t believe it. You were so tiny. You carried so small. I told you I didn’t believe you. I told you that even if it was true, I didn’t want the baby.”

  “Or me,” she whispered.

  He inclined his head. “I regret every angry word I said.”

  “I can understand now why you were so upset. It must have been like déjà vu. There you are with another Eden.”

  “I’ll never forget how devastated you were, Ava. I will never forget the look at your face as I put you in that taxi. I’d broken your heart. Shattered you—”

  “Don’t.” She shivered. “Don’t go there. It’s too sad.”

  “But I remember it all. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that I put you in the taxi, shattered, I then get a call that you’re at the hospital, dying.” His voice cracked. “By the time I arrived at the hospital you weren’t expected to last the night. And then the doctors added that you were pregnant, close to five months, and did I want them to try to save the baby?” Pain darkened his eyes. “You hadn’t been lying. You were telling me the truth. And there you were, pregnant with my son, and dying.”

  After a moment he continued. “I was desperate. I vowed that I’d do everything in my power to make sure you and the baby survived.” The intensity in his eyes nearly leveled her. “And I have.”

  Ava inhaled at the wash of pain. They had both been through so much. “No wonder you don’t like to look back. I don’t blame you.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, and took her hand, kissing the back of it, and then the palm, and up the inside of her wrist. “I’ve learned to be grateful for every day. And I count my blessings every, single day, which means I thank God for you and Jack every day, because you two are my greatest blessings.”

  She smiled then, a slow smile that curved her full lips and made her lovely dark eyes shine. She was beyond beautiful. She took his breath away.

  “We’ve been through a lot, and the past three and a half years haven’t been easy,” he said, “but I’d do it all again if it meant we’d be here today.”

  He meant every word, too. He’d always found her physically appealing but now their bond wasn’t just the physical. They were bonded through struggles and challenges and unexpected joys. And then there was Jack, a testament to love and life and hope.

  “I love you, Ava,” he said, cupping her face and lowering his head to hers. His mouth brushed her lips, and then again.

  “I know.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  The great thing about being loved by Colm, was that he was very, very good at making her feel good and beautiful. And loved.

  Ava’s eyes closed as he kissed her again, his lips traveling ever so slowly across hers, from one corner of her mouth to the other.

  By the time he lifted his head, her heart was thundering and her body trembling. She wanted him. She couldn’t imagine a time where she wouldn’t want this fierce, beautiful, loyal man.

  “Ava?”

  There was a question in his voice but he knew what she wanted. She knew he knew.

  She reached for Colm, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, craving more contact.

  “All these clothes,” she murmured. “Far too much fabric.”

  “You’re reading my mind,” he said, turning her to begin unfastening the dozens of little hooks at the back of her fitted gown, working from the top of the bodice down. She shivered as he peeled the dress away and his lips kissed her bare back, close to her shoulder blade. He kissed his way down her spine, kissing the dip and then the curve of hip.

  She felt so hot and sensitive, her skin covered in liquid velvet. He stroked her, his hands pushing the silk skirts down, freeing her legs. His hand slid between her thighs, and he caressed her, teasing her, warming her, and slowly starting to do what he did so well: drive her mad. “Love me,” she whispered.

  “I do, baby.”

  And then he was thrusting into her and showing her how much he did love her. She couldn’t imagine anything feeling better than this. It wasn’t merely sex, but a union of hearts, minds, lives.

  She didn’t want to come, didn’t want the pleasure to end. But Colm was too good and the sen
sations too intense and when she climaxed, Colm was there with her, just as he’d been there every step of the way.

  *

  Later, after the fire burned out and the champagne shifted in the silver ice bucket, Ava lifted her head and looked down at Colm. His blue-green eyes met hers and held. He was happy. She knew it without him saying so. They didn’t need words between them, not after all they’d been through.

  She felt the same happiness, as well as a great peace. She’d made it. She’d been through the fire. She’d survived and come out the other side and it was all worth it.

  “Can we go check on Jack?” she whispered, running her hand across Colm’s hard chest. She could feel the thump of his heart. “I know he’s asleep, but I’d love to still tuck him in.”

  He reached up, caught her face and brought her back down to him. He kissed her thoroughly before letting her go. “I can’t think of a better way to end the night.”

  The End

  Enjoy a bonus story by Jane Porter!

  RITA ® Winning

  “Take Me, Cowboy”

  Take Me, Cowboy

  a copper mountain rodeo novella

  Jane Porter

  © Copyright 2013 Jane Porter

  The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my Girls—Megan, Lilian and CJ. You are the best.

  For Rebecca—Thank you for joining the madness.

  And for my Guy—’Cause you are still so smokin’ hot.

  Chapter One