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A huge tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. And though in her line of work Merida had been taught to cry on demand, she must have missed the class where they were taught how to stop, for the tears would not stop falling.
‘Stop the crocodile tears, Merida.’ His voice was like ice.
‘They’renotcrocodile tears!’ Merida gulped, but Ethan had clearly decided they were.
‘And don’t worry about giving up your career,’ he added when she had signed the papers and he was clearing up. ‘You just landed the biggest gig of your life.’ Ethan gave her a black smile. ‘Playing the part of my loving wife.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALLBRIDESWEREnervous on their wedding day. But Merida felt as if she might pass out.
It was to be a true whirlwind wedding.
They’d got their marriage licence first thing on Monday and now, on Tuesday, Merida stood in Ethan’s suite with her teeth chattering as she was preened and readied for the role of her life.
‘I’d like to wear my hair down,’ Merida attempted, but Howard the stylist had other ideas—it would be smoothed and worn up.
And when she looked at the rack of stunning dresses that several bridal houses had sent up, and her hand lingered on a dusky lilac peplum dress that would surely disguise her bump, Howard snatched it out of her hands in horror and told her how it would be.
‘You’re marrying aDevereux, my dear—not joining the circus.’
Her red curls were smoothed to become glossy and straight, and then coiled into an elegant French pleat. Her nails were buffed and painted nude, as were her lips.
And the dress chosen for her was a very pale gold.
‘I’m not sure...’ Merida said as she stood looking at her unfamiliar reflection, but Howard and his cronies seemed incredibly pleased.
‘It’s perfect,’ Howard insisted.
The dressers and the stylist left, and when there was a knock on the door she opened it to the stunning sight of Ethan.
‘You look wonderful,’ he said, though privately he thought she looked like a sepia photo—dimmed and toned down.
‘Thank you,’ she answered. ‘You do too.’
Ethan actually did. His charcoal-grey suit was immaculate and he wore a gunmetal-grey tie. He was utterly clean shaven, as of an hour ago, and yet a raven-blue hue lay beneath the surface.
‘Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?’
‘I already told you—I’m not superstitious. Anyway, I need to give you this. It was just delivered.’
‘Oh...?’
He put his hand in the pocket of his suit and produced a ring.
No box.
No speech.
No moment.
A stunning emerald-cut diamond was handed to her, but when Merida’s eyes glittered it was with tears. She refused to let him see them—she would not be accused of faking it again.
‘When you’re asked where I proposed—’
‘We’ve been through this, Ethan,’ Merida said, pushing the ring on. ‘We met at the gallery where I worked...’ They hadn’t actually deviated much from the truth—more extended the timeline.
There was no pretence at romance. Absolutely none.
