She cried harder, clinging to him as if she was never going to let go.
He braced a hand against the ground and pushed to a sitting position, bringing her with him, then unwound her arms from around his neck and held her out far enough to see her face in the moonlight. “You mean that’s all I had to do, was tell you that I love you?”
With tears streaming down her face, she nodded.
He tossed back his head and laughed up at the dark, star-filled sky. “I can’t believe this! All that worrying and fretting and running all over the countryside and all I had to do was say three little words?”
She dragged a palm across her cheek and sniffed. “They’re not so little.”
Laughing, he hugged her. “No, they’re not, and they don’t come close to describing how I feel about you.” He brought his hands to her cheeks, framing her face, and his smile slowly disappeared. “I love you, Rebecca Lee Sullivan,” he said, and was suddenly afraid that he might cry, too. “I think I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, but was just too blind to see it.” He tightened his grip on her, praying that this time he’d get it right. “Marry me.”
“Oh, Woody,” she sobbed, laughing and crying at the same time. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Epilogue
The Golden Steer was indeed golden on this night. Hundreds of torches joined candles topped with clear hurricane globes to gild the sprawling ranch house’s rear lawn in a soft romantic glow. Yards and yards of white tulle draped strategically placed panels of lattice interwoven with ivy and fresh cut flowers, creating an illusion of a gazebo of monstrous proportions, befitting a Texas wedding. A dais erected especially for the ceremony itself rose high enough from the center of the island-size patio to allow each and every guest a perfect view of the bride and groom as they exchanged their vows.
Personally Forrest hadn’t seen the need for so much froufrou and would have preferred a simpler and more private ceremony, but his mother had put her foot down, insisting that every woman—Becky included—secretly dreamed of a big, fancy wedding. He’d finally given in and his mother had worked day and night in order to have everything ready within the week’s time Forrest had allowed her. Though he’d had to keep a firm rein on his mother to keep her from going overboard, he had to admit that she had succeeded in creating a setting that would fulfill any bride’s dream.
Not that he hadn’t had a hand in the arrangements himself.
Standing at the edge of the patio, his arms folded across his chest, he turned his head slightly...and smiled smugly. Not a hundred feet away his wranglers manned the smoking pits, barbecuing beef raised and butchered right on the Golden Steer. Behind them, icy kegs of beer waited to be tapped. To their left, members of the band that would play later worked quietly at one end of a portable dance floor, setting up their musical equipment and amplifiers. Around the dance floor tables covered in linen—a concession he’d made to his mother—were set and ready for the feast that would take place after the ceremony.
“Nervous?”
Forrest turned to look at Hank who had stepped up beside him. Though butterflies the size of Hank’s private jet were doing dive-bombs in his stomach, Forrest lifted a negligent shoulder. “No. Should I be?”
Hank chuckled. “I sure as hell was on my wedding day.”
Forrest stuck a finger between his neck and the collar of one of the new tuxedo shirts Chin-Liang had made for him and let out an uneasy breath. “I just want this damn ceremony over.”
“It’ll be over soon enough.” Hank turned his gaze out over the guests who crowded the patio. “I see you invited Anna.”
Forrest followed his friend’s gaze to where Princess Anna and her young son stood with Sterling and his wife, Susan. “Yeah. I thought a party might help take her mind off her worries.”
Hank’s lips thinned at the reminder of the mission they were all a part of and the one man who still hadn’t made it home. “We’re bound to hear from Blake soon.”
“If we don’t,” Forrest said in a low voice, “Greg’s liable to go after him.” He nodded his head toward Greg who stood on the opposite side of the patio, scowling. “He’s as worried about his brother as Anna is about the safety of her niece and nephew.”
“Can’t say that I blame him.”
“Forrest?”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, Forrest whipped his head around to find her and his father standing behind him. The blood drained from his face at the tears he saw in his mother’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Is it Becky? Has something happened to her?”
She pressed her fingers to her lips and quickly shook her head. “N-no. There’s nothing wrong with her. It’s just that...” She dropped her hands and reached for his, forcing a smile to her lips. “You’ll see,” she said, giving his hands a quick squeeze. “It’s time for the ceremony to start.”
The butterflies kicked up the pace of their bomb-diving missions as Forrest made his way to the dais. He took his place at the foot of the velvet-lined steps, just as they’d rehearsed the night before, and waited as the harpist filled the night air with the whispered strains of the wedding march.
As if on cue, the guests grew quiet and parted, creating an aisle of sorts that led to the open French doors of the home Forrest had grown up in. Becky stepped into the opening, her hair swept up high and woven with dehcate baby’s breath, looking like a vision from a dream. The dress she wore was the same one Forrest’s mother had worn when she’d married his father almost forty years before. Lace the color of old ivory covered her arms from wrist to shoulder then swept across the bodice of the dress and rose to form a collar high on her neck. Satin of the same color formed a heart over her breasts beneath the lace and hugged her curves, then fell in soft gathers to sweep the tips of her shoes.
Becky Sullivan, he thought, his heart thumping wildly within his chest. His neighbor, his friend...his bride
He drew in a shuddering breath when her gaze met his and was sure that his heart was going to burst wide open, it was that full of love for the woman who stood before him.
Upon her appearance, startled gasps and whispers rose from the guests, and she tore her gaze from his and looked out over the throng of people who crowded the patio, the blood draining from her face. He saw the tremble of her lips, the panic that widened her eyes, and understood as no one else could her uncertainties. Though he knew he was supposed to wait for her at the steps of the dais, he found himself moving down the aisle toward her.
When he reached her, he took her hand in his, drawing her gaze to him, as well. He squeezed her hand between his. “Rebecca Lee Sullivan,” he said softly as he looked deeply into her eyes, “you are, without question, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He felt the tension ease from her fingers and watched the color return to her cheeks as her lips curved in a smile. He gave her hand another squeeze, then drew it through the crook of his arm as he moved to stand beside her. He looked down at her and smiled. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She gazed up at him, her smile turning radiant, her eyes sparkling like emeralds in the soft light. “Oh, Woody, there’s nothing in this world I’d like better.”
Don’t miss the next installment of the
Texas Cattleman’s Club—
when romance brews between super
secret agent Blake Hunt and the young,
lonely widow Josie Walters in
SECRET AGENT DAD
by Metsy Hingle
Coming to you from Silhouette Desire in
November 1999
And now for a sneak preview of
SECRET AGENT DAD,
please turn the page.
The blood in Blake Hunt’s veins chilled at the sound of a baby’s whimper coming from the backseat of his car. He’d learned a major lesson in the past forty-eight hours—bachelors and babies do not mix. Given a choice, he’d rather face a firing squad than the four-month-old twins strapped in the seats beh
ind him.
“Why couldn’t I get a simple assignment—like disarming a band of terrorists?” he muttered. Pressing one booted foot to the accelerator, he sent the sedan speeding down the dark Texas road, barely visible in the heavy rainstorm courtesy of La Nina.
Bone tired from the mission he’d undertaken on behalf of the Alpha mission and his brother Greg, Blake replayed the escape from the palace in his head. Even with his training as a former Cobra, getting the royal twins out of the tiny principality of Asterland where they had been held hostage had not been an easy task. But he’d done it. He’d rescued the motherless babies and thwarted Prince Ivan’s plans to use them in his plot to gain control of the kingdom of Oberland. And in less than two hours, weather permitting, his end of the mission would be complete. They would be in Royal, Texas, and he would gladly turn the pair over to their aunt.
Another whimper cut through his musings. Despite the November cold, sweat beaded across his brow. He lifted his gaze heavenward. Please. Don’t let them wake up again. The whimper escalated to a wail. “So much for prayers,” he muttered.
“Hang on a second, sugar britches,” he soothed, dividing his attention between the blue-eyed babies seated behind him and the storm-ravaged road stretched out before him. He negotiated the sedan around another curve and swore as a fist of wind came at him and nearly tossed them off the road. Gripping the steering wheel, Blake fought to steady the car while he braced himself for the second baby to join its twin’s protests. As if on cue, the other baby began to howl and the wails continued in chorus. Blake still didn’t know which was worse—the nervewrenching cries of the twins or driving through the worst rainstorm to hit west Texas since Noah had piloted his ark.
Sighing, he darted another glance at the duo with the healthy lungs seated behind him. An unexpected warmth spread through him as he looked at the tiny pair all bundled up in the ugly camouflage jackets he’d put on them in their escape from the palace. Miranda—he was sure it had to be that future heartbreaker—stretched out her little arms toward him.
Blake’s heart did a nosedive.
“Shh. It’s okay, sugar. Uncle Blake’s here.” Unfastening his seatbelt, he stretched one arm behind him to stroke her tiny hands with his finger. Despite the contact, she continued to sob. And each one of those pitiful sobs ripped right through him. Nearly frantic, he tried to think what to do. “Pacifiers!” Groping in the diaper bag on the seat beside him, his fingers closed around a rubber nipple. “Here you go,” he said, managing to pop it into her mouth.
He was debating whether to stop and get the other nipple for Edward, when the baby stopped crying, and started to doze off. Relieved, Blake directed his attention back to the road and frowned. The weather appeared to be worse now than when he’d started out from the airport where he’d landed his plane earlier. The usually dry gullies were filling rapidly. Never once in his thirty years could he remember weather like this in west Texas, the wide open country he hailed from. But he couldn’t stop and wait for it to blow over. He had to get home—to Royal—tonight and complete his mission with his safe return to the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Another glance at the backseat revealed the twosome were asleep. Anger twisted inside him as he thought about Prince Ivan and his attempts to use them. From what he’d learned of the man, the prince would not be a gracious loser. “Don’t you worry, little guys. Uncle Blake won’t let him get anywhere near you again. I promise.”
Rain pummeled the car like fists, making it nearly impossible to see the road. The windshield wipers worked furiously, offering him only split-second views of the road. His thoughts still on the prince, Blake didn’t see the shattered arm of a windmill in the road until he was almost on top of it. He whipped the wheel to his left, just missing it. Struggling to maintain control, he began applying the brakes. A blast of wind slapped at the car from behind and sent the sedan skidding sideways across the road. Blake fought to keep the car from flipping over, but there was no way to avoid hitting the low bridge over the creek. He slammed into the railing, and the car pivoted and began skidding down the shoulder. The babies screamed. Blake lurched forward, cracking his head against the windshield before the car came to a halt.
Dazed, blood trickling down his forehead, the frightened cnes of the babies pierced his fogged senses. The twins! He had to get the twins. Fighting pain and the darkness that threatened to engulf him, Blake shoved against the door. It opened, and he fell to his knees in mud and water. He tried to stand, but the wind slammed him back against the car. His head struck the door, and pain exploded in his skull. His vision blurred. Clutching his head in his hands, he slumped to the ground, unaware of his wallet falling beside him, of the wind tossing the black billfold down toward the creek and into the rushing water.
And as the rain beat down over him, Blake succumbed to the beckoning darkness.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5844-0
BILLIONAIRE BRIDEGROOM
Copyright © 1999 by Harlequin Books SA
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden wthout the written permission of the editonal office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 USA.
All characters m this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantty inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S A., used under license Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
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