The Sheikh's Convenient Bride
Page 17
“Ma,” Megan said carefully, “Caz and I thought…”
“If that’s what your mother really wants, that’s fine, kalila,” Caz said. He winked at her and pulled some photos from his pocket. “Mary? You want to take a look at these?”
Mary stared at the photos of his palace by the sea. Then she smiled and batted her lashes at her new son-in-law and said one of the best things about being female was that you could change your mind any time you wanted.
It was, of course, a wedding straight out of a fairy tale. The sea, beating softly against the shore. The palace, gleaming white against the perfect blue sky. The gold-tipped spires, the marble walls and silk carpets…
“Isn’t it wonderful, Dan?” Mary whispered to her husband, just before he took his stepdaughter up the aisle. “My girls look like princesses.”
They did, he agreed.
Briana and Fallon were both Megan’s maids of honor. Matron of honor, in Fallon’s case.
“Very pregnant matron of honor,” her adoring husband said proudly.
Cassie and Marissa, Megan’s sisters-in-law, were her bridesmaids. Cullen, Keir, Sean and Stefano were Qasim’s groomsmen. After some initial verbal sparring designed to assure themselves he loved Megan enough to suit them, the entire male contingent of the clan had welcomed Caz with open arms.
Everything went smoothly. Even the O’Connell babies stopped squalling and watched Megan as she reached the altar on her stepfather’s arm. He kissed her, gave her hand to Qasim, and the look on Qasim’s face when he smiled at his bride made Mary weep.
She reached for Dan’s hand when he sat down beside her.
“My baby’s so beautiful,” Mary whispered.
Dan smiled. “She is, indeed.”
Another muffled sob. Dan reached into his pocket and took out a big white handkerchief. “Here you go, countess,” he said, and his use of his wife’s nickname set off another round of tears.
“I love you, Dan Coyle,” Mary whispered, “and isn’t it a perfect day?”
A perfect day, Sean thought, watching the festivities with a slightly jaded eye.
Well, sure. If you liked that kind of thing, it probably was, but why on earth would a man want to give up his freedom? Women were wonderful creatures, and it was a damned fine thing two of his sisters had found men who’d worship them, damned fine, too, that his brothers had found women they adored.
They were happy, the lot of them. He was happy for them.
But this brand of happiness wasn’t for him.
Hell, he thought, running a finger inside the collar of his starched shirt, never him.
Give up the life he loved? The footloose, drop-everything-and-go freedom of it? Forego the thrill of the next toss of the dice, the next turn of the cards for the same four walls every night? A nine-to-five job?
Most of all, definitely most of all, give up the excitement of seeing a beautiful woman, the hot anticipation that came of catching her eye and knowing you’d be bedding her soon? That you’d enjoy her, and she’d enjoy you, until it began to get a little dull?
The chase was everything.
For him, anyway. And it would never change.
Sean turned his attention back to his sister. Megan was looking at Caz as if he were the center of her universe. He was looking at her the same way. Sean felt like a cultural anthropologist at a tribal ceremony, watching the natives go through a ritual he couldn’t possibly comprehend.
The judge smiled at the bride and groom. “It is my pleasure,” he said, “to pronounce you man and wife.”
Everybody applauded, including Sean.
He was applauding his sister’s happiness, of course.
And if he was also applauding his own independence, that was nobody’s business but his own.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4198-9
THE SHEIKH’S CONVENIENT BRIDE
First North American Publication 2004.
Copyright © 2004 by Sandra Myles.
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