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‘Yes?’ Ally croaked.
‘Are you ready to disembark?’ the hostess asked in her heavily accented English, the beatific smile not faltering.
Not at all.
As panic closed her throat she forced her fingernails to release their grip on the seat.
‘The immigration officials have checked your documents and Monsieur LeGrand waits for you,’ the hostess added, sweeping her arm towards the door of the aircraft in a polite indication for Ally to get a move on.
Ally understood; the poor woman had been on her feet for seven hours.
‘Right, sorry,’ she said, unlocking the seat belt and standing.
She brushed her trembling palms down the sheer blue silk. And made her way to the front of the plane.
As she stepped out onto the outer stairs, she spotted Dominic standing at the bottom busy tapping out a message on his phone with both thumbs. A man with a briefcase stood beside him who had to be the marriage officiant Selene had told her would be there to issue their marriage licence as soon as she arrived. Apparently the marriage itself would be performed tomorrow, as the law in New York required a twenty-four hour wait after the licence was issued. But it wasn’t the thought of the formalities that had the dive-bombing butterflies going up in flames.
Even with his head bent, Dominic looked more gorgeous and overwhelming than he had a week ago. She couldn’t help noticing how the seams of his shirt stretched over his biceps as she made her way down the gangway on unsteady legs. How could he seem part savage, even in a business suit?
He’s going to be your husband. Seriously?
Her heels clicked on the tarmac and Dominic stopped typing.
His dark chocolate gaze coasted over her figure, burning right through the silk. His eyes flared as his gaze finally met hers, and her ribs tightened around her lungs like a vice.
‘Bonjour, Alison.’ The husky accent rippled through her, setting off bursts of sensation—and making her far too aware of the hours spent tenderising her skin in the spas and salons he’d paid for over the last week.
Was that why every inch of her body felt as if it were about to burst into flames too, along with the dive-bombing butterflies?
‘How was your flight?’ he asked.
‘Great,’ she rasped as he approached, and she became aware again of exactly how tall he was.
He had to be at least six foot three.
Thank goodness she’d used some of the money he’d given her to purchase a range of high heels. She was hardly a small woman, having reached her full height of five foot seven at the age of fifteen, but he dwarfed her, just as he had when they were kids. She’d been considerably shorter as a thirteen-year-old. But had he been this tall as a teenager? He certainly hadn’t been this broad. Maybe it was the way he’d filled out that made him so much more intimidating.
Stop staring at his muscles.
She forced herself not to step back, but she couldn’t hide the shudder of reaction when he took her hand and brushed a kiss across the knuckles.
‘You look exquisite,’ he said, the approval heating his dark gaze almost as disconcerting as the sensation now shooting up her arm and reigniting those flaming mutant dive-bombing butterflies in her belly.
‘Thank you,’ she said, but the praise hadn’t helped to mitigate her nerves one bit.
He introduced her to the man standing beside him. The balding young man who had been especially hired from the New York City Clerks’ Office verified her identity. After they had signed the forms, he issued their licence and explained he would return to perform the ceremony at Dominic’s apartment tomorrow, at which point the marriage certificate could be issued.
‘Bon,’ Dominic murmured, after the clerk had smiled and left. ‘Only one more day and we can get all the paperwork out the way.’
Ally shivered, knowing that, whatever the officiant said, this marriage was already binding, at least for her, because she’d made a promise seven days ago. A promise she had no desire to renege on.
She felt suddenly naked beneath Dominic’s gaze, and the truth was she almost was. What had possessed her to wear nothing but a bra under the jacket?
You idiot! Ruining the jacket’s line is not going to matter if you pass out at his feet before you even get a chance to say I do.
Dominic’s lips quirked—the way they had when he’d proposed a week ago, as if he were sharing a private joke with her.
‘Why do you look so terrified, my darling almost wife?’ His gruff accent lingered on the word ‘wife’—both provocative and possessive. ‘I promise not to seal our bargain until we are somewhere private.’
