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“Not a real one, sweetheart.” Caz turned on the water and gathered her into his arms as it thundered into the enormous tub. “You deserve the kind of wedding girls dream of.”
Megan leaned back in his arms. “What do you know of wedding dreams, Lord Qasim?”
“I know,” Caz said with a lift of his eyebrows. “I’m at an age where I’ve been to enough weddings to know that it certainly isn’t the grooms who want the tuxedos, the engraved invitations, the fiftieth microwave oven that you have to pretend is the first you’ve received.”
“Just goes to show you’ve been going to the wrong parties. My relatives will know enough to give us a gift certificate for a day spent skydiving.”
Caz raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me. My wife skydives?”
“She does,” Megan said primly. “And she’s never found anything she enjoys more.”
“She hasn’t, huh?”
A smile curled across her lips. “Well,” she said softly, “not until now.” Caz kissed her and she leaned back in his arms and sighed. “You poor man. All those weddings, and I bet you never figured you’d go to one of your own.”
Something changed in his expression. A shift of his smile, a darkening of his eyes…she wasn’t sure what, but she knew she’d seen something.
“Caz? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me. You looked—”
“I looked like a man contemplating an incredible reality, sweetheart.” He cupped her face, threaded his fingers into her hair. “I love you, with all my heart.”
“That’s good. It’s very, very good because I love you, too.”
“I want to make you my wife again, this time in a white wedding with your whole family present. Your mother. Your father.”
“My stepfather.” She kissed his mouth. “Amazing, isn’t it, that there are still things we don’t know about each other?”
“There’s plenty of time to learn.”
“Yes. There is. A lifetime.” She smiled. “Wh
ere will we hold this wedding?”
“Here. In the palace. Unless you’d rather—’’
“I love the idea. So will my sisters. And my sisters-in-law.” A mischievous grin lit her face. “And my brothers, and my brother-in-law, and a bunch of fat, gorgeous babies. The O’Connells are a big clan, Sheikh Qasim, and growing.”
“I hope so,” Caz said, and spread his hand over her belly. “I want children, kalila. Little girls, with your beautiful eyes.”
“Sons, with your wonderful smile.” Her voice broke. “Caz, I’m so happy.”
“Yes,” he whispered, “yes, I know, kalila. I know.”
He kissed her, kissed her again as he stepped into the huge marble tub with her in his arms, and soon the only sounds in the room were the soft splash of water, whispers and sighs.
Megan checked the time, tried to figure out the corresponding hour in New York, Boston, Sicily, Connecticut and Las Vegas, and gave up.
So what if she woke everybody? She was remiss as it was; she should have phoned home days ago to tell her family about Caz, but these new things—that she was bringing her husband home to meet them soon, that they’d all be attending a wedding in Suliyam—couldn’t wait.
She called Bree first and reached her sister’s voice mail.
“Aren’t you ever home?” she demanded. “Honestly, Briana, how can I tell you my news if you’re not there?”
Then she disconnected. It was a wicked thing to do, but Bree deserved it.
