LITMIR.BIZ

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wanted to do everything right. And if that sounds crazy to you—”

      “It doesn’t,” she said, stroking his face and reaching up to kiss him full on the mouth. “It’s sounds perfect to me, just the way you’re perfect.”

      The flashbulbs exploded again, temporarily dazzling him. Blinking, he waited a moment for his vision to adjust, aware of nothing but the woman in his arms.

      “I’m a long way from perfect, sweetheart,” he said, as the music slowed to a stop and a smattering of polite applause rippled around the room. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, just like any other man.”

      “I’ll find a way to make you pay for them.” Laughing, she pulled away from him. “And you can begin by dancing with Mother.”

      Reluctantly, he let her go. “Can I make it your grandmother, instead? Felicity’s more my type and she’s already admitted she likes to jive.”

      She pressed her forefinger to his mouth. “Behave! Amma’s bad enough, without your encouraging her to be worse! As it is, she’s probably going to arm wrestle all the unmarried women out of the way when I toss the bouquet. Haven’t you noticed how outrageously she’s flirting with every man in the place?”

      “No,” he said, both captivated and a little alarmed at the way she clung to her childhood name for Felicity. For all her sophistication and professional success, in many ways she was a very young twenty-three. Sometimes, he’d caught himself wondering if she was too young—for him, and for marriage—but then she’d surprise him with her maturity and he’d forget his reservations. “I’ve only got eyes for you.”

      “Just as well, my darling husband, otherwise I’d scratch them out!”

      He loved the way she leaned against him when she said that, the intimate smile she turned on him as they walked back toward the head table. It was how he’d always imagined marriage should be: the private jokes, the exchanged glances that made words unnecessary, the silent communication of body language that said I love you from across a room packed with other people.

      “I’ll remember that,” he said, as he handed her over to her father for the next dance, and prepared to square off with her mother.

      Stephanie Montgomery perched on her chair as if it were a throne and she the reigning monarch. When she saw him making his way toward her, she lifted her head and flared her aristocratic nostrils, the way a queen might when being approached by a particularly smelly stable boy.

      Refusing to let her spoil any part of such a special day, Ben did his best to live up to her impossible standards, practically bowing as he said, “May I have the honor of this dance, Stephanie?”

      “I’d be delighted.”

      She didn’t look delighted; she looked resigned, and as mightily offended as if he had horse manure clinging to his clothes.

      Not deigning to accept the hand he extended, she stalked ahead of him onto the floor. Exasperated, he followed, keeping a respectful ten paces behind. “I’d like to thank you again for everything you’ve done to make today so memorable,” he said, trotting her sedately around the floor.

      “No need. You already did when you made your little speech. And I can’t imagine that you’d have expected anything less than the absolute best. Julia is our only child, after all.”

      “Of course.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I give you my word I’ll make her happy. She’ll never have reason to regret marrying me.”

      “Actions speak louder than words, Benjamin. Let’s wait and see where things stand a year from now.”

      Over her head, his glance connected with Julia’s. The pride in her eyes gave him the wherewithal to put aside his urge to throttle her mother and to try, one last time, to strike some sort of truce instead. “The renovations at the house should be finished by the time we get back from the honeymoon. I hope you and Garry’ll both come to visit us, once we’re settled.”

      “Unlikely,” she said. “If you really wanted Julia to remain close to her family, you wouldn’t have chosen to live practically in the United States of America. If she wants to see us, she can come to us. Our home, after all, will always be hers and our door always open to her.”

      The woman should have been left out on the hillside at birth! Grinding his teeth, Ben gave in to temptation and spun her around with enough vigor to almost knock her clean out of her spindle-heeled shoes.

      Punishment followed swiftly, in a way he never, in his worst nightmare, could have anticipated.

      “Who is that person and why is she intruding on a private function?” she suddenly squawked, raising her eyebrows so far they almost disappeared into her hairline. “Is she one of your guests whom you’ve neglected to introduce to me?”

      “No, Stephanie,” he said, his patience at an end. “Surprising though it might seem to you, I’m not such a boor that—”

      But the reply fizzled into horrified silence as his glance latched on to the woman hovering at the double doors leading out to the foyer where he’d stood at the head of the receiving line not two hours earlier. Flaming red-gold hair caught in the light from the chandelier behind her, she peered at the crowd, clearly searching for someone.

      He shook his head, as if doing so would bring him out of the sudden nightmare in which he found himself. This was his wedding day; a day that belonged to Julia and him and the future. His past had no place here. She had no place here.

      In his panic, he stepped on Stephanie’s foot, then compounded the sin by ditching her completely. “Just where do you think you’re going?” she exclaimed, outrage lending an unpleasantly shrill edge to her voice.

      Loath though he was to give his mother-in-law any more ammunition than she thought she already had, Ben had more pressing concerns on his mind just then than appeasing her, the most immediate being to whisk the newcomer out of sight before Julia noticed her.

      Weaving a hasty path among the guests impeding his progress, he finally reached the doors. “What the devil do you think you’re doing here, Marian?” he asked roughly, grabbing her by the elbow and hustling her across the foyer to the private suite reserved for the bridal party. The luggage he and Julia would need for the honeymoon was stowed there, along with their passports and travel tickets. Her going-away outfit, something the color of wild orchids, hung on a padded hanger from a brass coat stand.

      “I had to see you,” Marian whimpered. “We need to talk.”

      “What?” He stared at her incredulously. “We haven’t spoken in months. And in light of our last conversation, I can’t imagine there’s anything left for either of us to say.”

      “You’ll change your mind when you hear what I have to tell you.”

      “Marian,” he said, hurriedly closing the door to prevent anyone witnessing the conversation, “I got married today. You just gate-crashed my wedding. Have you lost your mind?”

      Tears glazed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When I went looking for you at the address they gave me at your old apartment, the workmen at your new house just said you were here at a wedding. They didn’t tell me it was yours.”

      She sort of crumpled onto the little gilt sofa next to a full-length mirror and sniffled into a tissue she fished out of the big quilted bag slung over her shoulder. For all that he wished she were a million miles away, she made a pathetic sight and Ben couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. “What happened, Marian? Didn’t the reconciliation with your husband work out?”

      “Sort of. But it won’t last, unless you agree to help me.”

      He rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Why do I feel as if I’m speaking in foreign tongues here? I just got married! My wife is probably wondering where the devil I’ve disappeared to. As for the conclusions my mother-in-law’s arrived at…” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Hell,

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