by Fiona Brand
A car door popped open. Jacinta waved at her, and Eva’s heart sank. Jacinta wasn’t wearing her pale pink bridesmaid’s dress. Instead she had on a bright, summery dress, one that fairly shouted cocktails on the beach.
Jacinta looked stressed. “I’m sorry. But when I tried to fix the car, I got oil down the front of my dress and had to change.”
Sienna poked her head out the church doors. When she saw Eva, she rushed over with a pretty toddler in tow. Handing Amber to Constantine, she gave Eva a hug. “You look gorgeous. Are you ready? Kyle’s going nuts in there.”
Eva, who seriously doubted that Kyle was going nuts, retrieved the bouquets from the backseat of the limousine. “I’m ready.” She nodded at Jacinta, who gave her a relieved grin as she accepted one of the bouquets.
Sienna took Amber off Constantine’s shoulder, gave Eva a last reassuring smile and strolled into the church.
Constantine held out his arm. “Ready?”
Feeling a little shaky, Eva placed her hand on Constantine’s sleeve. Jacinta remembered to pull Eva’s veil over her face and they were good to go.
As the “Wedding March” started and they stepped into the cloistered shadows of the church, her heart thumped hard in her chest. Someone had taken the trouble to light candles in sconces around the wall, and of course the candles on the altar were lit, the flames lending a soft glow to the wooden pews and the vaulted ceiling. There were also flowers everywhere, white-and-pink roses dripping from vases, their scent mingling with the honeyed beeswax of the candles.
Kyle, standing tall and broad-shouldered at the altar, with Gabriel keeping him company as best man, turned, and time seemed to stand still as their eyes met: his tinged with a softness she hadn’t expected to see, hers brimming. A little desperately, she reminded herself that she could not afford to feel this way, and neither could Kyle.
* * *
Kyle watched as Eva walked toward him in the soft, romantic dress, which clung delicately to her narrow waist, the skirt flowing gracefully with every step. When he’d seen her standing in the hallway of his house, for a moment he’d been stunned because the dress was the exact opposite of the sophisticated gown he had expected her to wear. But in an odd way, the dress summed up the Eva he was just now beginning to know: unconventional, gorgeous and packing a punch.
Gabriel, his eldest brother, and the obvious candidate for best man, since they worked together, caught his gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Kyle glanced at Eva, noting the way she clung to Constantine’s arm. She had a reputation for being tough, professional and coolly composed, but with every day that passed he was coming to understand that the image she projected was as managed as the airbrushed ads she had used to pose for. Beneath the facade the seventeen-year-old girl he had kissed on the beach was still there.
And there was the root of his problem. Somehow, he had never been able to forget Eva even though he had stayed away from her for years, even though he’d married someone else. And Mario had known it. “Yes.”
Eva came to a halt beside him and Kyle met Constantine’s gaze, which was as male and direct as Gabriel’s challenge. Only Constantine’s version carried a different message. Marrying an Atraeus was not done lightly. Mario was no longer here, which meant now he would have Constantine to contend with.
As Kyle faced Eva, he should have been painfully reminded of another wedding day, another woman, but his first wedding, as important as it had been, was now viewed through the distance of time. At some point in the past four years, he realized, time had done its work and the grief and loss, while still there, had faded.
Eva took a deep breath as Kyle folded her veil back. A little disconcerted at the steadiness of his gaze, she said her vows steadily, although when it came to the part where they would care for each other through sickness and health, she almost faltered, because that was not in the plan. Kyle placed the ring on her finger, then Gabriel handed her the ring for Kyle.
She slipped the ring on Kyle’s finger and experienced a moment of fierce possessiveness. The rings symbolized the vows, commitment, belonging and the exclusiveness of the relationship.
It was not the ideal time to consider the negative implications of her veto on lovemaking, but she was abruptly aware that if she wanted the exclusivity that the rings symbolized, then sex was going to have to be part of their bargain.
Over the past couple of days, she had been brought face-to-face with the unvarnished fact that Kyle might like to have sex sometime in the next two years. She also knew from her reaction to Elise that she would not cope well if Kyle slept around.
The thought that he might have a sexual relationship with Elise or some other unnamed woman made her go still inside. That could not happen. If Kyle was going to have sex, she needed it to be with her.
In a clear voice, the priest pronounced them man and wife. Kyle took her hands and drew her close. Eva met his gaze. “We need to talk.”
“Not now.” Then his mouth came down on hers, and for long moments her mind went blank.
The signing of the register was a confused affair, because the adjoining room to the chapel was filled with lactating mothers and small children.
Eva signed, then Kyle. When they stepped away from the desk on which the priest had spread the papers, Sienna almost tripped over an extremely interested little person who was clutching at the fabric of her dress.
“Sorry,” a pretty young mother murmured, scooping up the little girl. “She thinks you’re a princess.”
Eva curtsied at the little girl, who giggled. “Then she should have this.” Digging in a secret little pocket at the waist of the dress, she found the little blue silk flower she had tucked in the pocket as part of the “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue” tradition.
When the young mother tried to refuse, she insisted, pressing the silk flower into the little girl’s hand. “It’s just a little thing and I’d love her to have it.” Words she hadn’t meant to say tumbled out. “I adore kids.”
The young mother picked up the child, who was already demanding the flower be sewed onto her dress. She smiled as she started back to her seat, the little girl waving happily. “Now you’ll be able to have some of your own.”
Blinking at the sudden wave of emotion that hit her, Eva turned back to the wedding party to find Kyle watching her with an odd expression.
“This is different,” Constantine muttered, detaching a toddler from his ankle and gently turning him around so he could crawl back to his mother.
Sienna picked up a pen and signed. “No, it’s good,” she corrected him. “It’s like a day care at a wedding. Amber can play.” She moved aside for Constantine and turned to watch Amber, cute in her polka-dot dress, who was busy martialling a group of babies.
As Kyle shook hands with the priest and handed him a check, Sienna chatted about Amber until it was time to walk back into the church.
As Eva bent down to pick up her bouquet, which she’d left on a seat while she signed the register, her stomach hollowed out and her head spun. Gripping the back of the chair, she waited for the dizzy spell to pass. However, when she straightened, she was still a little off-balance.
Kyle’s arm came around, steady as a rock. His expression zeroed in on hers. “Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing,” she muttered, although her vision was still doing weird things. “I didn’t eat last night—no time. And I didn’t have breakfast.”
In fact, she hadn’t felt like breakfast, which was unusual. Usually, she woke up ravenous.
Sienna insisted she sit down for a minute, and once she was seated, handed her a wrapped candy. “Here, chew on one of these. I know it’s sugar, but they’re good when you can’t keep breakfast down.”
Eva unwrapped the candy and popped it into her mouth. The sugar rus
h made her head spin, but in a good way. “How did you know I couldn’t eat breakfast?”
“The same way I know I can’t eat it,’ Sienna said. “You’re pregnant.”
Twelve
Kyle’s gaze flashed to hers, his expression unexpectedly grim. “Eva?”
“I can’t be.” She shouldn’t be.
Possibilities flashed through her mind, a mixture of joy and dread, with the dread coming out on top. She wanted no part of the grief and death that had disintegrated her family. As much as she would adore to be a mother, she could not be pregnant.
A chill went through her at the thought of what a pregnancy would do to Kyle. After years grieving for his wife and child, Eva giving birth to a child that would most probably die would literally make him relive the nightmare of his past.
Eva shook her head, regretting the sharp movements almost immediately. “I am not pregnant. No way.”
She smiled brightly at Sienna, and Constantine, who was regarding her in a thoughtful way that made her wonder if he could see something she couldn’t. Sucking in a breath to stop the roiling in her stomach, she called on the years of acting classes she’d taken, smiled and pushed to her feet. Luckily, thanks to the sugar, she was steady.
Relief and renewed confidence steadied her even more. “See, I’m not pregnant, just hungry.”
And to prove it, she would do the one thing she had been shying away from doing as a double check that the morning-after pill had worked—she would use the pregnancy test she had bought and which was still in her handbag.
It would be negative: it had to be. Relieved that she had successfully dealt with the whole idea that she might be pregnant with a child that would most likely die, and which would break both her heart and Kyle’s, she forced another smile. “I feel fine now. Really.”
Kyle took her arm as they strolled back into the church to a smattering of applause and began their progress down the aisle. “Do you usually skip meals?”
“Only when I’m trying to get married on a twelve-day schedule.”
“Have you done a pregnancy test?”
Eva smiled at an elderly Atraeus aunt. “Not yet, but I have one...just to confirm that I’m not pregnant.” They stepped out into the vestibule. A cold breeze drifted in, making her shiver.
Briskly, she decided that discussing the whole situation about sex would have to wait until they cleared up the murky area of a pregnancy. “Getting pregnant the first time we made love would be huge bad luck,” she muttered. “About as likely as lightning striking the same place, twice.”
Lightning flickered as they paused at the top of the church steps.
Kyle inspected the now darkened sky. “What was that you were saying about lightning?”
Her reply was drowned by a crack of thunder, and a split second later the heavens opened. Rain poured down in a heavy gray torrent, drenching the photographer Eva had commissioned. Kyle pulled Eva back into the shelter of the foyer as the photographer collapsed his tripod, flung his coat over his precious equipment and ran for his car.
Lightning flashed again, although it was sheet lightning, she consoled herself, not the jagged fork lightning that would have been an uncanny reminder of the night they had first made love.
* * *
Luckily, there was a second venue for the photographs. After twenty minutes of snapping wedding shots at the photographer’s studio, Eva dismissed the limousine driver and climbed into Kyle’s Maserati.
When they pulled into the driveway of the house, which was lined with guests’ cars, the extent of the storm damage was clear. A heavy gust of wind had obviously lifted a corner pole of the marquee clear out of the ground, collapsing half of the tent. The caterer’s van was parked near the back door entrance, which opened into the kitchen, so he had clearly made a decision to operate from the house.
Appalled, Eva didn’t wait for Kyle, but popped her door open. Dragging her skirts up, she dashed through the rain, which had dropped to a soaking drizzle, making a beeline for the kitchen entrance. As she stepped into the kitchen, which thankfully was a hive of activity and awash with lovely scents, she kept repeating the mantra that in the wedding planning business disasters happened, the thing was to have a backup plan.
Once she was satisfied that the canapés and champagne were already served and that the simple summer picnic menu she’d settled on would go ahead, just inside, she walked through into the sitting room just in time to see Kyle step through the front door. There was a thin smattering of applause, which quickly died away when the guests realized that Kyle was on his own.
Taking a deep breath to control the automatic tension and outright fear that hit her every time she considered that she could be pregnant, Eva claimed Kyle’s arm. Calling on all of her acting skills, she accepted congratulations, which had been cut short at the church, and when she got the chance grabbed a glass of sparkling water and nibbled on canapés.
Kyle lifted a brow at her water. “No champagne?”
Eva immediately caught his drift. If she were pregnant, she would be avoiding all alcohol. Heat flushed her cheeks, along with another sharp jab of panic. She forced a smile and tried to keep things light. “Habit. I don’t usually drink at all, I don’t have a head for it, and I usually only ever drink sparkling water at weddings.”
They were interrupted by Constantine, who had made himself the unofficial MC. After toasts and speeches, a late lunch was served. By that time, the summer squall had passed and the sun had come out. Jacinta, who had taken control of the indoor service, opened the French doors and dried off the outdoor furniture.
Kyle and his brothers carried over the tables from the wrecked marquee, which was now steaming in the heat; guests moved out onto the patio.
Zane Atraeus, Constantine’s youngest brother, styled himself the unofficial bartender, and so the day took on a shape that kept putting a lump in Eva’s throat. The things she had expected to go right had crashed and burned, but the unexpected presence of her Atraeus cousins, who had come a long way for her, gave her something unutterably precious; for the first time she truly felt part of her own family.
When she saw Carla, the wife of Lucas, who was the third Atraeus brother, struggling to eat salad from a plate while she held her baby boy in her lap, Eva set her own plate aside and offered to hold him.
With David in her lap, contentedly chewing on a teething ring, and listening to Carla chat about the alterations she and Lucas were making to their house in Sydney, she slowly relaxed. Although, holding David, the urgent question of whether she was pregnant or not kept resurfacing. As she talked interior decorating loves and hates with Carla, she determined that she would take the pregnancy test as soon as she got a few minutes to herself.
Kyle, who was caught in a cluster of aunts who were obviously grilling him, caught her gaze, his own ironic. The small moment in the midst of the noisy gathering was oddly heartwarming. Since the tension that had arisen over the question of a pregnancy, she and Kyle had not had one private moment together.
After the cutting of the cake, which was a pretty selection of cupcakes iced with white chocolate icing and pink sugar rosebuds and arranged in tiers, with one large cake on the top tier, someone put on a classical waltz.
Kyle held out his hand. “They’re playing our song.”
Eva set her plate down, pleased to do so, even though the cake was delicious. The faint nausea, which had continued, was spelling a death knell to her hopes. “I hadn’t planned on dancing.”
He shrugged as he drew her close, his hand warm at her waist. “It’s a Medinian tradition,” he said, referring to the Mediterranean island from which the Messena and Atraeus families had originated.
She inhaled, catching the clean scent of his skin edged with a tantalizing whiff of a cologne that was now heart-wrenchingly familiar. Feeling suddenly absur
dly fragile and as if she had to soak up scents and sights and sounds before everything came to pieces, she placed her hand on Kyle’s shoulder. Their closeness shunted her back to their night together and the shattering intimacy of lying in bed with Kyle. She could still remember the way he had smelled and felt and tasted—the way he had made her feel.
She concentrated on keeping her expression smooth and serene as heat from every point of contact zinged through her. As they began to dance to a well-known waltz by Strauss, desperate to distract herself from sensations that were just a little too intense, she breathlessly asked, “What did the aunts say?”
Kyle completed a turn as they reached the edge of the patio, in the process pulling her more firmly against him. “Apparently, Mario instructed them to make sure I gave you a proper Medinian wedding.”
She frowned, caught by the oddness of the phrase. “Did they assume that you would marry me?”
He hesitated long enough for her to know that she was right. “Apparently, Mario discussed it with them before he made the will.”
Thankfully now, others were dancing and the noise of the music and the general buzz of conversation was enough to create the privacy she suddenly desperately needed, when it seemed that nothing about their relationship was private in the family. She knew she shouldn’t be upset, but the thought that Kyle was really only marrying her because Mario had put pressure on him struck a sensitive nerve.
Everything that happened with Kyle mattered, because she loved him.
She went still inside as the truth she’d been avoiding for weeks finally sank in.
Not only did she love him, she had always loved him, right from the very first moment. She had even loved him when he had dumped her, which was why it had hurt so much.
