Rexanne Becnel - Scandalous Weddings

Her heart leapt with hope. Did he truly mean it? She took a shaky breath. "You need a mother for Ian, that's all."

"I canna deny the needs of our son." Alex's voice lowered to a hoarse murmur. "But I also need a wife. I need you, Lady Helen."

For once, he spoke her name like a caress instead of a curse. It wasn't a declaration of love, but close enough. She wanted to laugh and weep with joy. Clasping the bedpost to keep from running to him, she teased, "And just how would a big, braw man like you propose to keep his wife happy?"

A gleam entered his eyes. His gaze made a slow sweep of her from head to toe, lingering on places that ached for his touch. Then he strutted toward her. "I've a few notions in mind."

Her pulse beat faster. "Such as?"

He stopped so close she could feel his body heat. With his finger, he traced the edge of her bodice. "We might start by testing the new bed."

Helen drew in a breath. "And then?"

"And then I might spend a long while kissing you… touching you… pleasing you." He did just that, his mouth moving over the tender skin above her bosom, his hands reaching behind to unbutton her gown.

She tilted back her head, charmed by the magic of his seduction. It was a dream come true after all those lonely months of resolute hope and stubborn prayer. As her gown slithered to the floor, she reveled in the extravagance of sensation, the rare pleasure of his caress.

Her hands rested on his broad shoulders, but not for long. A boundless love overflowed her, spilling through her with the need to gratify him, too. She arched against him and kissed the rough features that had become so dear to her. They undressed each other and tumbled into the feather bed, nestling naked in a pool of sunshine and desire. He sought to go slowly, to prolong her pleasure until Helen writhed in frustration.

"Enough," she whispered, guiding him home. "I want you now."

As he joined their bodies, a moan of intense pleasure vibrated from her. He lay still, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her. His eyes were dark with passion-and regret. "I dinna mean to hurt you, lass. To take you so soon after giving birth."

"You'll hurt me only if you dinna hurryl"

She moved her hips, wanting all of him, drawing him deeper within herself. He groaned, setting the quickened pace she craved, the glorious friction that took her higher and higher until at last she plunged over the verge into a sea of perfect bliss. She was aware of him falling with her, his harsh cry echoing, his strong body shuddering. The happiness lingered when she came back to herself in the warm shelter of his arms. Her husband. She wanted to stay right here in bed with him forever. If only she could.

She stroked his bristled cheek. "We should have our picnic soon."

With a wicked grin, Alex brought her hand to his loins. "Was this not feast enough to satisfy you, wife?"

Helen laughed. "Certainly. I only meant we'll need to return home in a while. Lest our son howl for his next meal."

"Ah, the lucky lad must have his feast, too." Appreciatively, Alex caressed the swell of her breasts. Then he gazed into her eyes. "Helen, you ken we took no risk today. A nursing mother canna get pregnant-"

"Dare I trust your knowledge of fertility?" she teased.

His grin lasted only for a moment. "I dinna like to burden you with another bairn if 'tis not your wish."

"But Ian needs brothers and sisters. And I would like a big family. Wouldn't you?"

"Aye, very much." He cupped her cheek in his big hand, and a look of yearning lit his craggy features. "My dearest lady," he murmured with stirring possessiveness, "I do love you."

Her throat tightened from the fulfillment of her dreams. "You needn't say that to keep me. I love you enough to stay."

"I'm through saying things I dinna mean. And I'm sorry for acting like a daft auld fool." He brushed a kiss across her lips. "I'll keep you happy, I swear it. We'll travel to England if you like, or anywhere in the world if it pleases you."

His willingness to change for her sake touched her heart. "Oh, Alex. I'd sooner stay right here." She moved sinuously against him. "With you, my love, forever."

Would you like to read the exciting story of Lady Helen's past? Helen was once engaged to wed Justin Culver, heir to the Duke of Lynwood, until a mysterious beauty entered their lives, the half-sister Helen had never known she had.

You can find their fascinating tale of intrigue and love in HER SECRET AFFAIR by Barbara Dawson Smith, published by St, Martin's Paperbacks in May 1998.

NEW YORK CITY, 1903

"A lovely day fer a weddin'."

The gleaming brand-new Packard purred as it idled in the circular, cobblestoned drive. Pierce St. Clare did not reply immediately, his gaze not on the small man beside him, who was driving the motorcar, but on the mansion facing them. Vast lawns and elm trees surrounded the four-story limestone house on this particularly glorious Sunday afternoon, and high wrought-iron gates barred the public from any access to it or the Fifth Avenue property it was on. Those iron gates were now wide open, as a few of the very last wedding guests continued to arrive in their handsome coaches and carriages, and were no cause for concern. But the trees disturbed him. They were very tall and level with the second story- they might interfere with his signal. "Keep your eyes open," he finally said.

He stepped from the motorcar, a tall, lean, inherently elegant man, clad now like the two hundred other gentlemen present, in a black dinner jacket and matching trousers, a dress shirt and white bow tie, a white carnation pinned to one lapel. Dark hair swept across his brow, carelessly combed into place. His eyes were a brilliant blue. "I should be no more than twenty minutes. Look for my signal, Louie." There was a warning in his tone.

The thin, middle-aged Louie, clad in tweeds, smiled at him from beneath his felt hat, revealing a silver front tooth. "Guvnor, a true piece o' cake," he said with a cocky wink.

Pierce eyed him then turned his attention upon the Boothe mansion. He strode briskly across the drive as Louie drove the Packard out of the way of the last few oncoming carriages. The invitation had suggested that one be prompt; the ceremony would start at precisely four p.m. Several couples were just entering the house as he fell into step behind them. The women were walking behind their escorts and had their heads together as they spoke in hushed tones, but he overheard their conversation anyway.

There was a queue, and it had stalled. Pierce stood very still, in spite of the fact that he was filled with restlessness and impatience.

"So fortunate," the lady in low-cut pale blue silk was saying. "I cannot believe that poor, poor Annabel's good fortune. I do mean, what an amazing turn of events! Who would have ever thought!"

The blond lady in silver chiffon agreed. "One would have never thought she'd land a husband. Good Lord, I mean, after all, she is twenty-three, is she not? Twenty-three with her two younger sisters already married for several years now-with little Elizabeth expecting! This is so fortunate for the so very unfortunate Annabel Boothe. I mean, Jane, I must admit, I truly thought she would remain a spinster for the rest of her days in spite of the Boothe fortune."

"I thought so, too," the brunette said. "After all, when one's father cannot buy one a husband, why, there is truly no hope."

"He must be smitten. Can you imagine? Why else would Harold Talbot marry her? He has his own fortune, you know."

Pierce sighed, his gaze straying past the two women, hardly interested in the bride and her good-or bad- fortune. However, the Boothe fortune did interest him. George Boothe owned one of the most popular dry-goods emporiums in the northeast-if not in the entire country. G. T. Boothe's was the most fashionable destination for those women venturing out upon the Ladies' Mile. Recently, his net worth had surpassed that of John Wanamaker, his closest rival.

Pierce had already been a guest at the Boothes' Thirty-thud Street mansion, but he scanned the interior yet again. The foyer was huge and circular, the floor and pillars marble. Directly ahead, he could see most of the (our hundred wedding guests finding their seats in the vast, domed ballroom where the ceremony was to take place. Overhead, a dozen huge crystal chandeliers hung. An altar had been set up at the very opposite end of the ballroom, framed with arches of pink and white roses and brilliantly lit up with hundreds of high, wide ivory tapers. Rows and rows of benches had been assembled to accommodate the guests, on either side of the long aisle upon which the bride would walk down. Perhaps fifty tall, wide ivory tapers on high pedestals graced either side of the aisle, interspersed with more floral arrangements. It was visually breathtaking, but Pierce remained oblivious. The ballroom interested him as much as the bride. But just outside of the ballroom, to his right, were the stairs.

It was a sweeping staircase of brass and cast iron.

The brunette, who was very attractive, was looking at him over her shoulder with a smile. Pierce realized she had caught him studying the house and he smiled back at her. She demurely lowered her eyes, but now the other woman turned to stare. Her cheeks became pink and she instantly faced forward, ducking her head toward her friend.

"Who is that?" she whispered, but he heard her anyway.