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that look he gave her just now? Positively X-rated!’

      Lola screwed up her blue eyes. ‘I see what you mean,’ she whispered delightedly. ‘Look at the way they’re gazing at each other now—they look as lovestruck as two teenagers!’

      Geraint laughed, and gave her a look of mock despair as he pulled her into his arms. ‘And do you still gaze at me that way, my love?’

      Lola looked smug, remembering the way he had ravished her on the bed just an hour earlier—nearly making them late for the wedding! ‘I look at you that way all the time, Geraint Howell-Williams—as well you know.’

      Geraint laughed, just as Cormack and Triss wandered over. Cormack had a sleeping baby in a stripy suit flopped contentedly over his shoulder, while Triss was wearing fuchsia-coloured satin trousers, which were skin-tight, with a matching matador jacket whose orange buttons matched her outrageous hat.

      ‘The Italian designer?’ guessed Lola.

      Triss grinned. ‘Spot on! Completely over the top, isn’t it? But I love his clothes, and I’d feel guilty about paying shop prices for them.’

      ‘And fortunately I love them, too,’ said Cormack, his eyes glinting as he gazed adoringly at his wife. ‘I shall never forget that excuse for a skirt you wore on our honeymoon! The gondolier almost fell head first into the canal! Remember?’

      ‘Mmm.’ Triss had seen far less of the canals and treasures of Venice than she had expected, but she knew every single centimetre of their rooms at the Cipriani! They really would have to go back and visit when they weren’t on honeymoon!

      ‘We only just got married before Romy and Dominic, didn’t we?’ said Triss, looking dreamily into her husband’s eyes. ‘And we’ve known each other for ages longer.’

      ‘It wasn’t through a lack of asking,’ growled Cormack.

      ‘I just like keeping you guessing,’ answered his wife sweetly as she planted a tender kiss on the top of their baby’s silky black head.

      ‘And what are you keeping me guessing about this time, I wonder?’ queried Cormack softly.

      ‘Guess!’ She smiled, but she could see from the look in his eyes that he already knew she was pregnant with their second child.

      ‘I love you, Triss,’ he whispered.

      ‘The feeling is entirely mutual, I can assure you.’

      The bride and groom had wandered hand in hand through the rose-decked arbour and out towards the lake.

      Romy wore the simplest dress in cream silk, which brushed the grass as she walked, and a circlet of matching cream roses on top of her blonde head.

      The sun dazzled off the mirror-smooth surface of the water and their senses were full of music and laughter and birdsong.

      They stood in silence for a while, both lost in thought, reflecting on their good fortune and happiness. Then Dominic turned and looked at his wife, experiencing the usual thrill of pride and pleasure.

      ‘Happy?’

      ‘Mmm. Unbelievably so.’

      ‘But you’re very quiet,’ he probed. ‘Are you sad because your mother couldn’t make it?’

      ‘Wouldn’t make it, you mean,’ Romy corrected him drily, but her words were totally without anger. Dominic had taught her that when you couldn’t change something it was sometimes best just to accept it.

      She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not sad. I’m glad she’s happy with her new man, and if she had come she probably would have done something totally out-rageous—like making a speech or jumping into the swimming pool fully clothed!’

      ‘So why are you so reflective? Were you thinking about Mark?’

      Her eyes shone with tears at his perception, and she nodded.

      He cupped her face in his strong hand. ‘Don’t be sad, sweetheart. Mark’s out of pain now. And today you kept your promise to him in the fullest sense. You told him that you would be happy, and you are going to be happy. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making that promise come true.’

      Ever since that night two months ago, when they had come together so passionately, Romy had sometimes felt that she was going to burst with happiness!

      But Dominic was right, and it was time to let the past go now. Time to let go of any lingering regrets and guilt.

      On an impulse, Romy scooped the circlet of roses off her head and tossed it into the lake, like a discus. The gleaming water parted and rippled as the flowers hit the surface, and the sun gilded the cream petals. She said a short, silent prayer for Mark, and bade him farewell, then lovingly turned her face up to her husband.

      Dominic squeezed her hand tightly. ‘OK now?’

      ‘OK.’ She smiled, and looked down at her posy of cream roses which she was still clutching tightly to her chest.

      Dominic shot her a brief glance. ‘Want to go back to the reception and toss your bouquet in traditional fashion?’

      What Romy wanted was to have her gorgeous new husband all to herself, but she had the rest of her life for that, and she thought she could possibly share him. Just for today!

      She turned to him with a grin. ‘But there’s no one left to get married, is there? Lola and Geraint. Triss and Cormack. And now us.’

      Dominic frowned. ‘What about that friend of yours? The rather attractive one with dark hair?’

      ‘Stephanie? She’ll be delighted to hear that you described her as attractive.’

      ‘But a little miserable, I think?’

      ‘She’s just broken up with her boyfriend.’

      ‘Ah! Then she sounds the perfect bouquet recipient to me. Come on, sweetheart.’

      He took her by the hand, but she halted and turned her big brown eyes up to him.

      ‘Kiss me first, Dominic!’

      ‘Romy,’ he warned, because he knew that look very well.

      ‘Just a kiss,’ she pouted.

      ‘With you it’s never just a kiss. Oh, come here, then.’ He sighed, on a note midway between passion and perplexity. ‘Why is it that I can never resist you?’ he wondered aloud. ‘I’m like putty in your hands, do you know that, Romy Dashwood?’

      ‘Oh, that!’ Romy’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s called love!’ And the bouquet slid unnoticed to the ground.

      Dominic sighed with pleasure as he kissed her very thoroughly, and she slid her hands beneath his jacket to encircle his waist. ‘Romy!’ he groaned.

      ‘What, darling?’ she questioned innocently, her fingertips massaging his broad back through the silk of his shirt.

      Dominic knew when he was beaten—but more importantly, he knew when he wanted to be beaten.

      He was laughing with delight as he tumbled her down onto the grass and began to kiss her.

       London’s Eligible Bachelors

      The Unlikely Mistress

      Surrender to the Sheikh

      The Mistress’s Child

      Sharon Kendrick

      Dear Reader,

      I’ve known

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