The Bridal Bargain (14 page)

Behind them, Hannah’s sisters and brothers were spilling into the saloon, introducing themselves to Tony, closely followed by wives, partners, children, all creating a distracting hub-bub as they made happy comments about the forthcoming mythical marriage. The whole scene was hopelessly out of control, absolute chaos and getting worse by the second.

“Please don’t be angry with us, Hannah,” her mother was pleading.

“Maureen, she has no reason to be angry with us,” her father instantly argued.

“I’m not angry,” Hannah put in helplessly. “Just... surprised.”

“Of course you are!” her mother agreed indulgently. “That was what it was meant to be. A lovely surprise!”

Twenty-four O’Neills descending on her—the whole family pressure-pack—with Tony haplessly cornered by their belief in a marriage that hadn’t really been proposed or accepted. And she could see he was actually beginning to enjoy the act, egged on by her rather boisterous family. She hoped he realised this was all his own fault, using the getting-married line to torpedo Flynn’s arrogant attempt to chat her up again.

“He’s certainly a fine figure of a man, Hannah,” her mother said admiringly.

“I like him much better than Flynn already,” her father declared, intent on mending fences.

“Connor, we are not going to mention Flynn,” her mother chided.

“And why not when
he’s
to blame for Hannah playing this secret hand?” he growled. “Here she is, too uptight to tell us anything in case something goes wrong this time.”

“That’s not true, Dad.” Hannah took a deep breath, feeling more and more wrong about letting this deception run on. Tony didn’t have to save her face in front of her family. As for bringing his grandmother into it, that was just way over the top. Her family would simply have to understand that their information had been deliberately planted on a person who wasn’t supposed to be in contact with them. Which reminded her... “Who told you about this?” she demanded.

Her mother grimaced apologetically as she replied, “Our Trish ran into Jodie Lovett at a fashion parade three weeks ago. Jodie made some catty remark about you and Tony King and your sister promptly dug her heels in and wouldn’t let Jodie go until she had explained herself...” Her eyes telegraphed knowledge of highly suggestive intimacy as she added, “...very fully.”

Hannah flushed, recalling that Jodie had seen Tony enter the Coral King apartment with her, as well as being witness to the dinner for two at Nautilis. No doubt Jodie had painted a vivid picture, and Trish, eager to believe her jilted sister did have a new fiancé, had probably elaborated on it to the rest of the family.

She could see them all speculating like crazy, especially when there had been no news from her about an engagement. Tony had never encountered the O’Neill clannishness—the networking that never stopped. It was one of the reasons Hannah had run two years ago. She couldn’t have stood their overwhelming sympathy and caring, endlessly turning the knife in the wound of what had happened in their attempts to cosset and comfort.

“So when do you and Tony plan to marry?” her father demanded to know.

“Dad...” She heaved a sigh and gathered herself to lay out the truth, “...we haven’t even...”

“The ring!” Trish called out excitedly, breaking from the pack around Tony, the lovely auburn hair she’d inherited from their father—although his was now white—being flipped over her shoulder as she rushed forward, completely forgetting the sinuous grace she used on the catwalk as a top-line model. “Show us the ring, Hannah!”

It was the last straw of this whole ridiculous mess! Hannah glared at her busybody younger sister, opened her mouth and began to say, “I haven’t got...”

“She hasn’t got it on,” Tony loudly overrode her, drawing her gaze to his as he parted the cluster of O’Neills and strode towards her, his eyes transmitting an unmistakable command that Hannah let things be.

Which threw her into more turmoil. She didn’t want to let Tony down, but couldn’t he see how much out of hand this could get if they kept feeding the misunderstanding?

“Hannah doesn’t like to wear the ring when she’s working—preparing food, cooking fish, wiping up, using her hands all the time,” he explained.

All very reasonable. Hannah’s heart was sinking at his persistence with the story. He was pinning her to it instead of...

“So I keep it in my pocket for her.”

All eyes turned to him as he pulled out a small jewellery box from his shorts pocket and held it out on the palm of his hand for everyone to see. It was like a conjuring trick. Hannah couldn’t believe it. Her parents moved aside to give him room to reach the galley counter directly in front of her and he placed the black velvet box on it—unmistakably a ring box. Even Hannah’s eyes were glued to it now and it certainly wasn’t disappearing in a puff of smoke.

“Give me your hand, Hannah.”

She did. It seemed to her that her left hand lifted of its own accord. Tony opened the box, plucked out the ring, held her hand steady, and slid a fabulous emerald ring onto her third finger. The brilliant green gem winked up at her as if to say, “Here I am, as promised, all yours.”

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Megan muttered smugly.

And it was! Everyone was oohing and aahing over the ring Tony had put on her hand, on her engagement finger, a very real, very serious ring that spoke more convincingly than any words could. If she tried to deny it...no, that option was gone. They would all think she was mad, treat her as mad, not realising that Tony had swept away her right to choose.

Her heart quivered at the sheer boldness of his move. He had to have ordered this ring for her, planned a proposal of marriage. How could he have made up his mind so fast?

Panic welled up in her.

It was too fast.

Much too fast.

“Take it back, Tony,” More panic...did she really want him to? “Keep it for later,” she hastily tagged on.

Later...when they were alone together...when this madhouse with her family was behind them...and she had time to think. All she knew now was she couldn’t hand out a public rejection. The emerald ring was too serious. It forced her to look at what could be...
if she
truly was the only woman in the world for Tony King.

At last
they were in the jeep, driving away from the marina, away from her meddling family who had piled into a minibus for the trip back to their hotel, away from her fellow crew members and their happy grins exulting in how right they’d been about her and Tony.

Hannah didn’t know what was right.

She simply felt intense relief that the barrage of well-meaning remarks and advice was over and she didn’t have to smile anymore. Her face ached. Her head ached. And her heart ached, because it was torn between accepting the picture Tony had painted all day, and the fear there were too many flaws in it.

“Are you stressed out by your family... or by me, Hannah?” he asked quietly.

“Both,” she answered on a heavy sigh.

He took one hand from the driving wheel and reached across to make physical contact with her, his fingers closing around her hand and gently squeezing. “I didn’t plan this, though I did intend to propose to you tonight.”

“I realise you were catapulted into it by my family thinking it was already a done deal, but...there was no deal between us, Tony, and...” She shook her head, finding it difficult to articulate exactly how she felt about it.

“I pre-empted your choice.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Is that so bad, Hannah? Would you have chosen otherwise if we’d been alone together?”

“I don’t know. You didn’t give me the chance to think...to consider...to...to talk about it.”

“Then I guess we need to talk about it now.”

He squeezed her hand again before releasing it to bring the jeep to a halt outside her apartment. His calmness actually increased Hannah’s anxiety. She didn’t hop out of the jeep when he did.

She sat staring at the big white wooden house that had been divided into four separate living quarters— not exactly flash apartments although they were completely private and she usually felt comfortable in hers. Her own space. Sharing it with Tony had been good, so why did she now feel he was invading it? Her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t think.

He opened the passenger door for her and still she didn’t move, paralysed by a confusion she couldn’t sort out. Wild doubts whirled through her mind as she stared at him. Was he Mr Right for her? Would he love her to her dying day and never look at another woman with desire? Was that an impossible dream?

Without a word, Tony stepped forward, scooped her off the passenger seat, and proceeded to carry her towards her front door, taking any decision out of her hands... again!

“Why are you doing this?” It was more a plea than a protest. Her arms wound themselves around his neck and hung on, hardly a reaction that would deter him in his purpose.

“You look very fragile,” he answered gruffly.

It was how she felt. And it was so easy to rest her head on his lovely broad shoulder and close her eyes and let the whole fraught day drift away, just breathe in his comforting maleness, feel his strong arms supporting her, the steady pumping of his heart within the warm wall of his chest.

He stood her on her feet to open the door to her apartment, but he was right behind her, his arms encircling her waist, his body like a protective shield she could lean against, his head bent to hers, his mouth softly grazing her ear.

“I’m sorry today was hard for you. I can’t take it back, Hannah.”

“I know,” she murmured, unlocking the door, letting him in because she wanted him, needed him, and instinct was stronger than reason.

He closed the door and drew her into his embrace, face-to-face this time, and his eyes burned into hers as he spoke what had never been spoken between them. “I love you, Hannah. You must know that, too.”

Her heart contracted. Why did those words hurt so much? They shouldn’t hurt. They should be filling her with joy and happiness. Yet the shadows of pain and betrayal were flitting through her mind.

“Kiss me, Tony,” she pleaded. “Make me feel it.”

He kissed her with a fierce passion that flooded through her bloodstream and revitalised every cell in her body. It ignited a blaze of desire that obliterated shadows and the only thought pulsing through her mind was
yes, yes, yes.
She was so much
with him,
it was a jolt when he wrenched his mouth from hers and savagely muttered, “No, no, no...this is wrong!”

“Why is it wrong?” she asked, totally befuddled.

“You don’t want to be stormed.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No...that’s a quick fix. You want to feel loved. That’s different.”

He rained soft kisses around her face and took her mouth with a sensual tenderness that sent sweet shivers down her spine. He unbraided her hair and gently massaged her scalp as he kissed her some more, warmly, lovingly. It was so nice, relaxing, caring, Hannah basked in the pleasure of it, all her tensions melting away.

“I love the silkiness of your hair,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against it. “I love burying my face in it, breathing in its scent.”

“I like smelling you, too,” she whispered.

“And your breasts...” He started undressing her, stroking her clothes away, caressing her flesh as though it was a source of endless wonder. “You have beautiful breasts, Hannah. All of you is beautiful. I love looking at you, touching you...”

“I feel the same way about you. You’re so completely perfect to me,” she confessed, eagerly undressing him, wanting to see, to feel, and her heart was beating the refrain... Tony, Tony, Tony...

“Let me make love to you as I want to,” he said, sweeping her off her feet again and carrying her to the bed. “Just lie here, Hannah, and feel me loving you.”

It was always enthralling to her, being naked with him, the blissful intimacy of it, the freedom, revelling in his very masculine beauty, the innate power of his body. She never really thought of herself, except how lucky she was to have such a man as her lover.

Yet now, letting him do as he willed, focusing only on what he was doing to her, every erotic caress, every sensuous kiss, feeling her body responding— ripples of delight, quivers of excitement—it dawned on her that Tony
was
giving her the sense of every part of her being loved. More than loved...adored, cherished...and when he moved to give her the most intimate kiss of all, she was on fire to have him inside her, to show him how deeply she welcomed this loving, wishing it could go on forever.

It was utterly glorious when he finally surged into her. She embraced him with all she was—body, heart, mind, soul—and soared with him to one exquisite climax after another until they were both spent and lay tangled together in the sweet ecstasy of feeling completely fulfilled by each other.

“Marry me, Hannah,” he murmured, pressing warm kisses over her hair. “Nothing could feel more right than this.”

She sighed, wanting to agree with him. But it had only been a month. Maybe it was so wonderful because it was still new. “Can’t we wait awhile, Tony? Make sure it’s going to last?” she softly pleaded.

His chest rose and fell under her cheek and she sensed he was gathering himself to argue with her, yet when he spoke it was with a quiet calmness. “Why do you think it might not, Hannah?”

That was so hard to answer. How could she say she didn’t trust him? That wasn’t true. She did trust Tony. He had given her no reason not to trust him.

“Are you worried about the constancy of my feelings... or yours?” he asked when her silence had gone on too long.

“There...there hasn’t been much time...to test them,” she got out, struggling for words that wouldn’t hurt.

“Hannah, I’m thirty-two years old. I’ve been with many women. Attractive women whom I’ve liked very much, whose company I’ve enjoyed. Not once in all that time, in all that experience, did I ever feel... this is the woman I want to share my life with. Until I met you. I can tell you unequivocally...that’s not going to change for me.”

Was it true? Could she believe it?

He gently rolled her onto her back and hitched himself up on his elbow to look down at her. Panic welled up in Hannah at the thought he was going to demand a decision from her. She was actually frightened to meet his gaze, knowing how compelling it could be. Yet his eyes were soft, kind, and a huge wave of grateful relief washed away the panic. He smiled, and her heart swelled with love for him.

“You knocked me out the day we met, Hannah O’Neill. And the very next time I saw you, the message started beating through my brain—this woman is mine. Since then, everything that’s happened between us has confirmed that message, over and over again.”

He traced her lips with feather-light fingertips, reminding her of the tenderness he’d shown. “Is it asking too much, wanting you to wear my ring? You can always hand it back to me if you decide I’m not the right man for you, Hannah.” His smile turned into a tilted appeal. “I can’t force you to marry me, you know. That choice is very definitely yours.”

Tony... her husband... her partner for life... always loving her...the dream swam before her eyes, tantalisingly reachable...almost convincing...

“Let me put my ring back on your finger, as a promise from me. It doesn’t lock you in. It simply says I love you and I want to marry you, and every time you look at it you can think about it.”

In a flash he was off the bed, fetching the ring box from his shorts pocket.

Hannah’s mind was in a whirl. Was it all right to wear the ring, on the clear understanding she would hand it back if their relationship started feeling wrong, or less than what she felt was needed for a marriage to work? They were expected to have dinner with her family tonight. Everyone would expect to see it on her finger. If it wasn’t...how was she to explain? But if it was there...they would expect more...and more...

Tony bounced back onto the bed, grabbed her left hand and slid the emerald onto her third finger. “Made for you,” he declared triumphantly. “Fits perfectly.”

It did. “How did you manage that?” she asked, staring down at the ring which was stirring a storm of turmoil. There were consequences if she fell in with Tony’s plan. Much as she wanted to please him, make him happy with her, wearing this ring would start a train of events she wasn’t ready to face.

“I waited until you fell asleep in my arms, then measured your finger,” he answered, his tone rich with the pleasure he had taken in his forethought, pleasure she would take away if she refused to go along with him. “You didn’t even stir,” he went on. “Very peaceful sleep. Which just goes to show how good I am for you.”

“You have been good for me, Tony,” she acknowledged, and didn’t want it to stop. But what if it did?

“And
will
be good for you.”

His confident claim stirred the turmoil further. He’d chosen an emerald because Flynn had given her a diamond and Tony wanted to give her something different. But the words weren’t different. Flynn had said he’d be good for her, too. It was too much to take on board right now. She couldn’t do it.

A surge of desperate determination lifted her gaze to his. “If I wear this ring, everyone—my family, your family, all the people we know—will expect me to start planning our wedding.” She shuddered from the sheer violence of feeling ripping through her. “I won’t do it, Tony.”

He frowned, his eyes probing hers with sharp intensity. “Do you mean...you don’t want to wear my ring...or you don’t want to get involved in planning a wedding?”

“They’ll start it. They’ll start it tonight. And you’ll involve your grandmother tomorrow. They’ll all look to me to do things...”

Her chest tightened at the mere thought of it. She could see Tony didn’t understand. After all, wasn’t it every woman’s dream to plan her wedding? Except striving to produce that perfect day turned into an obsession, an obsession fed by the wedding merchants and the bride’s family, claiming this had to be done and that had to be done if everything was to be
perfect.

The groom was largely left out of it.

The bride was very busy.

So busy, the groom had time to look elsewhere, to start wondering if he’d made a mistake and some other woman might fill his needs better.

“I won’t do it.” She shook her head, feeling the whole destructive pressure of it and needing to break free of it, stay free of it. Her eyes begged understanding as she tried to explain. “It becomes an event that takes on a life of its own and it gobbles up too much. It...it consumes love instead of giving it room to grow strong and unbreakable. I’ll get trapped into it because that’s a bride’s job. Not the groom’s. And I won’t be available when you want me...”

“You think I’ll do what Flynn did.”

His eyes accused her of misjudging him on totally unfair grounds.

“It’s only been a month, Tony,” she shot back at him, rebelling against his
certainty.
“You buy me a ring while everything’s red-hot between us, when there’s nothing getting in the way of doing whatever we like together...”

“You think it’s going to cool?”

“I don’t know. All I know is it has only been a month, and I will not be bull-dozed into planning a wedding that I end up having to cancel. I’ve been there, done that, and just the thought of it happening again freezes me up.”

“What if it’s still red-hot after six months, Hannah? Would you marry me then?”