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Logan straightened the cuffs of his monkey suit for the umpteenth time, and scowled at the elderly registrar. Where the fuck was his bride to be? It didn’t take that long to walk down the castle steps and make her way into the garden where the ceremony was to be held. The photographer aimed her camera into his face, and he flexed his fingers against the urge to wrench that piece of equipment out of her hands and throw it into the stream which formed a small lake. An idyllic setting the brochure had said, and he supposed that was true.
The way Hannah’s eyes had lit up in silent joy, when they’d pulled up the long gravel drive yesterday afternoon had certainly been worth the organizational nightmare to get them all up to Scotland and everything put in place in just under a month.
It had given him a far too suspicious glow inside to know he’d made her happy. He wasn’t going to examine his motives too closely, that’s for sure. This was a means to an end, that’s all. Admittedly one with pleasurable side benefits, or at least it would have those once little Hannah was finally his. What had possessed him to instigate the no sex until they were married rule, anyway? He needed his head examined, but he hadn’t wanted to muddy the waters.
If the one night of sex which was indelibly imprinted on his brain was anything to go by, he’d lose himself in her soft body at the detriment of all else, and Logan had needed his head in the right place for this all to work out.
So far, so good. The prenup his solicitor had drawn up was as watertight as one could make these things, and as per Hannah’s request—one that still didn’t sit right with him—she would leave the marriage with nothing more than the clothes on her back.
Maybe that’s why he seemed addicted to seeing that joyous light in her blue eyes. If she was determined to not avail herself of his money, he could spoil her a little in other ways. Like the engagement ring. He’d chosen the deep sapphire, set in a cluster of priceless diamonds and platinum, because it reminded him of the color of her eyes. Not that he’d been foolish enough to mention this to her.
That would give her entirely the wrong idea. Logan had resented the ache in his chest when he’d all but thrown the box at her. That moment shouldn’t have meant anything more than making sure she wore the required jewelry to make them look real.
Her gasp of surprise and the way she’d looked up at him, blinking away tears—Logan cursed under his breath—it had stirred emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. It had started a seeming deep-seated need to make her happy, to see those expressive eyes light up in joy and hope, and it felt damn good to know that he was the reason for that smile. A smile she’d hitherto bestowed only on Rhia.
“Relax, she’ll be here soon. It’s the bride’s prerogative to be late.”
George, Hannah’s sister’s fiancé and his best man by the sheer necessity of having to keep things in the family, slapped him on the back and grinned. “And wipe that scowl off your face. This is supposed to the happiest day of your life, yet you look like man about to face the gallows.”
Logan shook his head, made a non-committal grunt, and forced his tight shoulders to relax as he looked around the select few people who’d been invited.
His side of the guests looked far too empty. His solicitor and his wife, a few business clients, chosen specifically with future deals in mind—it always helped to butter them up—and the empty slot where his mother ought to be. Unfortunately, she was recovering from a nasty chest infection, and thus unable to attend.
Hannah had urged him to postpone the wedding a couple of weeks, but Logan couldn’t afford that luxury. The custody hearings were looming, and he knew his every move was under scrutiny by the authorities. While he’d been granted temporary custody of his niece—as per the terms of Claudia’s living will, a fact which still astonished him—her grandparents had started a vicious battle to smear his name.
This wedding was damage limitation of the highest order, and it had to work. While he was far from suitable daddy material, he owed Claudia this much.
The wedding march started up, and George’s low, appreciative whistle raised the fine hair on his neck. Even without that warning of his bride-to-be’s approach, he’d have known Hannah was near. The breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of her light perfume, and inhaling deeply, he turned around. He blinked at what he saw. Rhia came first, her little face screwed up in concentration, as she clutched her basket to her chest and threw handfuls of rose petals on the red carpet that had been laid to form the makeshift aisle.
Hannah came next, her gaze trained on Rhia, an indulgent smile kicking up her soft lips as she followed the little girl, while her sister made up the rear of the little parade. And that’s as far as he took in the surroundings, because his little dove chose that moment to look up and hold his gaze. Her eyes widened, and her smile grew, while the photographer’s rapid click signaled her capturing every moment of the happy bride’s arrival.
And fuck him six ways ‘til next Sunday, he had to give it to Hannah. She played her part well. From the bouquet of wildflowers which she held in her trembling hands, to the gossamer veil which fell over her face, and skimmed the top of her impressive cleavage, where her breasts shook with her rapid breaths, she looked every inch the happy, expectant bride. The strapless gown she’d chosen complemented her curves beautifully. Cinched in at the waist, the lacy cream fabric fell to the floor in gentle waves, and ended in a small train that made her look taller than she was.
“Wow, just wow. You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Logan.” George’s murmured exclamation didn’t require an acknowledgement, even if he had been able to get his voice to work. Right now, the mere act of drawing air into his suddenly constricted lungs seemed an impossible task to achieve, as Hannah drew next to him, smiled, and handed her bouquet to a beaming Sarah.
Rhia grinned, hopped from foot to foot, and then grasped Sarah’s free hand and stood to one side.
“Hey.” Hannah’s soft whisper as she addressed him shot straight to his groin, and he barely suppressed a groan. Talk was impossible, so he simply inclined his head and forced the semblance of a smile on his face. It must have worked, because Hannah kept on smiling and turned to face the registrar, who started his spiel which would end in them becoming man and wife. Not that Logan really heard what the man was saying.
This close to Hannah, with her scent tickling his nostrils, and the knowledge that this woman would soon he his and his alone, his inner caveman woke up with a roar.
Logan had never been the possessive type—he didn’t hang around one woman for long enough to get possessive—but Hannah was different, had been from the first moment she’d registered on his radar, which was why he’d kept his dist
ance at first. He should have stayed keeping his distance truth be told, and now … well now he felt the noose tightening around his neck. For the first time, he doubted himself. Hannah deserved so much more than to be tied to him for his convenience, and as result he hesitated when it came to saying his vows.
“Mr. Bryce?”
The concern in the registrar’s voice finally registered as did the utter stillness surrounding them. He could hear the stream bubbling over the rocks, George clearing his throat, as he stared at him, eyebrows raised, the sound of Rhia sucking her thumb, as though she, too, felt the sudden tension, and he pulled a much-needed breath into his lungs. Some of the panic floating around his system, threatening to strangle him passed with that breath, and his frantic heart rate slowed with each in- and exhale he managed to do.
“Are you all right, Mr. Bryce? Do you need a moment?”
“Come on, buddy, pull yourself together.”
“Logan, look at me.”
Hannah’s voice, an urgent whisper in his ear pulled him back from the brink, and the place came back into focus, and with it the weight of dozens of accusing eyes.
