Elle could only hope. She forced her lips into a smile as her stomach turned somersaults. She looked in the mirror. Was that really her? That woman wearing ivory with baby’s breath in her hair? Was she really going to marry Brock Maddox? And could they really make their marriage work?
She and her mother rode in a chauffeured car to the beach location for the wedding. The sun had burned off most of the morning fog, so at least there would be no rain. The car pulled to a stop in front of the private cottage where they would eat a meal afterward. Elle spotted Brock in the distance. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him. When she’d first met him, she’d never dared to dream they would be married. There were too many obstacles. She wondered again if this was a mistake.
“Elle,” her mother said, lifting her hand to smooth the crease between Elle’s brows. “Stop worrying. This is a happy day.”
“But—” Elle said, fear twisting her inside like a vise.
“No buts,” her mother said. “Remember. Never trouble trouble unless trouble troubles you.”
Elle smiled at the saying her mother had quoted to her so many times throughout the years. She took a deep breath. Just for today, she would try not to trouble trouble. She followed her mother from the car to the cottage where the hostess greeted them.
“Everyone is ready for you,” the woman said. “Especially the groom. The harpist is already playing.”
“Harpist?” Elle said in surprise, craning to look out the window.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the hostess said. “Perhaps that was supposed to be a surprise.”
Her mother’s eyes danced with excitement. “I’ll go first, like we planned,” she said, smoothing her blue dress then lifting her hand to Elle’s cheek. “I’m so happy for you, and for the baby.”
Elle’s stomach dipped. “I love you, Mom,” she said.
Elle watched her mother walk down the stone path, then down smooth wooden planks over the sandy beach. The blue-gray Pacific rippled with white crests. Gathering her courage, she walked toward the door. A bouquet was pushed into her hands.
Blinking, Elle glanced at the hostess again in surprise.
The hostess smiled. “Mr. Maddox insisted. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Elle looked down at the arrangement of white lilies and blood-red roses, and couldn’t help thinking of all the bad blood that had flowed between her family and Brock’s. Could their marriage sew together the jagged, bitter edges of competition?
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. One step at a time. The hostess opened the door and Elle stepped outside.
Brock watched as the door to the cottage opened and Elle appeared. The wind lifted tendrils of her hair and the hem of her lacy dress fluttered against her shapely upper calves. She had an ethereal look to her, almost angelic, but he knew different in every way. She’d been a sensual goddess in his bed, fulfilling his every need. At work, she had seemed like the perfect assistant, but the truth was she’d been tricking him every day, deceiving him.
He felt a stab of bitterness in his throat and swallowed it. There were more important things, he reminded himself. The baby. His baby. If there was anything his father had taught him, it was duty to the company and duty to his family.
His mother had been a dutiful but passionless wife and mother. Brock knew Elle would be different. He’d already experienced her passion and he knew, deep down in his bones, that she would love their child. Their child wouldn’t be regarded as an obligation. Elle would receive their child as a precious gift and responsibility. As for their relationship, they would work that out along the way.
She met his gaze and though he couldn’t see her eyes from where he stood, he guessed they were probably turbulent with conflicting emotions. She looked like a prized princess, her head held high, walking tall, only the smallest bump showing when the wind flattened her dress against her abdomen.
Brock couldn’t tear his gaze from her. She’d been the lover who’d both comforted him and turned him upside down. And betrayed him.
Despite that last fact, he still craved her. He should have hated himself for it, but he knew that once she bore his name, he would be her first priority. There would be no more division of loyalties. Her loyalty would be to him.
She took the last few steps and stood next to him, searching his gaze. Just as he’d anticipated, her eyes were full of emotion. He took her hand in his and watched her inhale quickly. It gave him pleasure to know that he still got past her reserve.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, all the while looking into her eyes. “We’re ready,” he said in a low voice to the officiant, and the ceremony began. He repeated the vows he’d never made before and watched as she did the same.