Black Widow Bride (17 page)

She lifted her head, stared down at him. In the dim gold of the bedside light she saw that his face was relaxed, his mouth tender.

“Forgive you for what?”

“T.J. should have been your son.”

She brushed back the lock that had fallen across his forehead. “He is my son. In every way that matters.” She kissed his cheek. “And how could I not forgive you? You forgave me for keeping T.J. away from you.”

“You did that unknowingly.”

“You believe me?”

He gave her a content, trusting smile. “Of course.”

She settled down beside him. “I can’t tell you what your belief means to me.”

He turned his head on the pillow beside hers and met her eyes. “Why does it mean so much?”

“I feel like I’m always fighting what people believe.” She paused. “It wasn’t true, you know.”

He hooked his arm around her, drew her close to his side until he felt her grow warm from his heat. “What wasn’t true?”

“That Aaron left me a fortune and I squandered it. Aaron committed suicide because he’d been caught with his hand in the till, he’d defrauded the bank to the tune of millions. Naturally the bank didn’t want the news to get out—bad publicity, the impact on the share prices and all that.” Curling up in his arms, she said, “He didn’t even tell me what he’d done. I knew something was wrong, but I never dreamed it was that.”

Damon hugged her tightly. How could Grainger have messed it up? The man had had it all. Money. Success. And, above all, Rebecca. Damon knew he could afford to be gracious. “He was a good man. But his position must have offered temptations he was incapable of resisting. And once he was found out, well, he would never have wanted you to see him in trouble.”

Damon suspected Aaron Grainger had liked the godlike status he’d achieved. He wouldn’t have wanted a life without the patina wealth brought, without the status. The sneers during a trial, the snubs when he came out of prison would’ve destroyed Grainger.

“After his death—” Rebecca broke off and gave a shiver.

“It was months of hell. Aaron had opened heaven knows how many offshore accounts and siphoned the funds out the country. I gave the bank all the help I could. They repossessed fixed assets, liquidated everything. He should’ve told me. I would’ve stood by him.”

Damon shook his head and stroked slow fingers down her back. He didn’t doubt that Rebecca would’ve stood by her husband. Aaron Grainger had left his young bride to face the heat, and taken the coward’s way out. And she still didn’t denounce him.

What kind of woman was she? A saint?

Shame seeped through Damon. He’d heard the stories, been eager to believe them. Now he’d discovered the truth. She hadn’t squandered Aaron’s ill-gotten fortune, she hadn’t driven him to suicide. She’d respected her dead husband’s memory, had never sledged him off to anyone.

He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve told you before that Aaron recognised your worth. Infinitely precious.”

Her head came up and she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for that. Aaron was very good to me.”

He wasn’t going to argue. The man was dead. No threat to what they shared. And he could never forget that Aaron Grainger had taken a chance on him and helped him when Stellar International had been in trouble. Aaron had played an important role in both their lives. He deserved to be remembered. Damon stared into the dark, slanting eyes that did such dangerous things to his equilibrium. He swallowed. “You must wear the pendant he chose for you. It suits you.”

Her face lit up. “You wouldn’t mind?”

He hesitated, then said firmly, “Of course not.”

“This sounds awful, but I have to tell you—it’s my favourite piece of jewellery.”

Damn, he’d be reminded of Aaron Grainger every day of his life if she wore it. Then he pushed away the tiny sliver of resentment. Rebecca was the woman she was today because of her past. Earlier he’d told her he loved everything about her, that he wouldn’t change anything about who she was. Every word had been true. She was complex, caring and much more woman than he deserved. If the pendant gave her happiness, he would never object to her wearing it. “It suits you. Grainger had good taste,” he said gruffly.

“I used to wear it a lot.”

“I remember.”

“At first I wore it to remind me of Aaron.” For an instant she looked apprehensive. Then she said in a rush, “After I met you, I wore it because the colour always reminded me of your eyes.”

God. She never ceased to surprise him. But he was thankful he’d told her how much he loved her before this final bastion had fallen. Her arms crept around his neck and pulled him close. The kiss he placed on her mouth was long and lingering. Her lips parted and he deepened the kiss. Heat rose swiftly within him. After a few minutes, he raised his head and muttered hoarsely, “I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve a second chance.”

“Watch it, you’re talking about the man I love.” She reared up on her elbow.

“When we first met, I looked at you, wanted you…but I was a coward. I saw all your passion, your intensity, and turned and ran instead of sweeping up the challenge you presented. I would’ve received riches beyond measure. Instead I retreated, threw Felicity in your face as the model for womanhood. You say I’m blind. I’m not. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Fliss was a darling.”

“Loyal to the last, aren’t you?” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I married her for all the wrong reasons. Because my mother wanted grandchildren. Because she was biddable. Because she was so different from you, she didn’t tie my head—or my heart—in knots. But I came to wish she had a little of your steel.” As he admitted the truth, the shame started to recede.

“Fliss was weak. But it’s not her fault. Not wholly. She had a hard time.”

“She had you. Yet she married the man you wanted, left you to look after the man she loved—and still you defend her.”

“I must. I loved her. And she gave me T.J.”

“Our son.”

“Yes, our son. Now I’ve got you. And you love me. What more could I want?” She smiled at him, a slow smile. A happy smile filled with promise.

Damon leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss, thankful that he’d found her again. The woman who loved him more than he deserved. The woman who bewitched him. The woman who held his heart in her hands.

Two weeks later and a world away from the bustle of Auckland, a lone couple stood on the wide strip of golden sand. The woman’s feet were bare and damp from the surf, and she was clad in a simple long white dress. A blue opal pendant hung from a gold chain that glinted in the late-afternoon sun. And she wore a brand-new set of matching earings and a bracelet that her bridegroom had given her as a wedding present. The groom wore a light-coloured suit fitting for the island’s humidity, and the page boy wore a pair of floral board shorts and a dun-coloured shirt.

There were no bridal attendants, no guests, no hoopla. Only a bride, her groom and their son. As the celebrant walked toward them with two women who had agreed to act as witnesses, the groom leaned down. “Is a Pacific island close enough to your fantasy?”

The bride tipped her head up. “I don’t need anything beside you—and our son.”

“You’re sure you don’t feel cheated of the celebration, the guests, the presents?”

Rebecca laughed. “Believe me, there will be mountains of presents to open when we fly home—between your mother and Demetra, I don’t doubt that. But I’ve had the best gifts already. You, the fact that T.J. swam today and that he laughed while doing it.”

The groom cupped her face in both his hands and stared down at her with gleaming blue eyes, his touch warm and tender. She turned her head and kissed the arch of his thumb. Never had she been happier.

“I love you,” Damon told her, his voice fierce. “Have I told you today?”

“Yes, but I’ll never tire of hearing it.”

“And I’ll never tire of the wonder of finding you and my son”

He bent to kiss her.

Rebecca’s toes curled into the soft sand. The familiar flare of desire flickered within her. The celebrant gave a cough. For a moment Rebecca thought Damon was going to ignore the man. Then he murmured, “Later” against her lips and drew away. The wide white pirate smile he flashed her held a promise that made her tingle.

“Dearly beloved,” the celebrant intoned. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a wedding, the love of two people for each other…”

Soula Asteriades smiled from ear to ear as she made her way to the deck where the sound of festivities could be heard.

Her eldest spinster sister, Iphegenia, was ensconced in a large comfortable chair with plenty of cushions supporting her. The younger, Athina, was playing tavli with Johnny. Soula’s three brothers and their wives and children and grandchildren were scattered across the deck, some of the little ones playing in the peculiar long, skinny pool her son had built. Savvas and his bride-to-be shared a lounger, their heads close together like a pair of lovebirds.

“Look, a photo,” Soula announced, holding up a cell phone. “The first photo of my eldest son, his new bride wearing a beautiful white dress—no sign of scarlet in sight—and their son, my first grandson. This is a miracle for which I claim no responsibility.”

As the family surged forward, happiness swamped her. She tilted her face to the heavens and knew somewhere out there her beloved Ari was watching, celebrating with her.

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