Authors: Dara Girard
The second time had them breathless, by the third time Brenna nearly collapsed under the raw warmth of his body and the primitive energy that electrified the air between them. In his arms she could be any woman—she wasn’t different. She was whole and unscarred. But he was far from being just any man. His name suited him and he had hunted until he’d tapped into her pleasure spot and aroused desires and sensations she didn’t know existed. When they finally broke away the only sound in the room was their labored breathing. Brenna looked at him then down. She reached out and touched his erection. “We can’t keep your little friend down, can we?”
Hunter shot her a glance. “He takes offense to the word ‘little’.”
“Oh.” She rolled off his condom then touched the tip of her tongue to his penis. “I’m sorry.”
“And you’re not going to get him down by doing that.”
“Who says I want him to go down?”
For the next hour Brenna made herself well acquainted with his friend and then Hunter made himself acquainted with hers. After they were both satisfied with their introductions they lay back and stared at the ceiling.
“Would you like something to drink?” Brenna managed to ask although she wasn’t sure she could move.
“I’d like some coffee,” Hunter grumbled.
She sat up and grabbed a robe. “Coffee takes time.”
He stretched his arms the length of the headboard. “That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
She went into the kitchen and prepared the coffee. He came up behind her and kissed the curve of her neck.
She jabbed him with her elbow. “I thought you had enough.”
“I changed my mind. Ow!” He rubbed where she’d hit him. “Then you’d better give me something else to do.”
“Sit down and twiddle your thumbs.”
He sat. “I don’t know how to twiddle.”
“Think about your promotion.”
He clasped his hands behind his head and smiled. “What a great evening.”
Brenna stared at him stunned. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She failed.
“What?”
“You have dimples.”
Hunter’s smile disappeared, he let his hands fall. “Damn.”
She handed him his coffee and sat. “You have a wonderful smile. Though you’re right. It doesn’t quite fit your image.”
“Like putting bows on a rotwelier,” he said disgusted.
“I could just picture you as a little boy.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “I got them from my mother. She loved to smile.” He sat back in his chair. “That’s one of the few things I remember about her.”
“And you don’t smile because you don’t want to be like her?”
“No, I don’t smile because I don’t want to remind anyone of her. She was different, that’s why she couldn’t stay.”
“And you’re not different?”
He met her eyes. “No. I’m like the rest of the family. Ambitious and determined.”
“But if you were different, would that be bad?”
He shrugged. “I’m not different so I don’t worry about it.”
She nodded although she didn’t understand.
He took another sip of coffee then stared at the rim of the mug puzzled. “This is lipstick.” He wiped his mouth and stared at the napkin. He sent her an accusing look. “Why didn’t you tell me I was wearing lipstick?”
Brenna fluttered her lashes. “It was your shade.”
“Hmm.” Hunter finished his coffee then set it down. “I don’t want a long engagement.”
“I know.”
“You won’t regret your decision I promise you.”
“No need for promises. We’re in this together.”
***
“You’re going to
marry
him?”
Brenna sighed, watching her friend across the restaurant table. “Pauline, calm down.”
Tima ate the pineapple slice from her pina colada. “Congratulations.”
Pauline tapped the table agitated. “Didn’t I warn you to be careful? How did he persuade you? Diamonds, a new car?”
“It’s not—”
She narrowed her eyes. “I know. He promised you a new wardrobe and while that would certainly persuade me, it shouldn’t have been a deciding factor for you.”
“He needs me and I need him.”
Pauline stared as though about to choke. “Why?”
“He needs a wife and I could use some help with medical costs.”
“That isn’t a reason to marry him.”
Brenna peppered her broccoli soup. “It’s reason enough for me.”
“So you’re marrying him for his money?”
She set the pepper down. “In a way. I was upfront about this.”
“You realize this makes you a gold digger.”
Tima popped a cheese fry in her mouth. “Dig deep, sister.”
Pauline sent her a look. “Marriage is a big step.” She pointed a finger at Brenna. “Once he has you, he’ll forget about you.”
“I’ll make sure that he doesn’t. You don’t have to be happy for me, but I’d prefer you stop discouraging me. I’ve made up my mind.”
Pauline sighed. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I would never have guessed.”
“At least marry someone who cares about you.”
“Hunter cares about me.”
“He cares about his promotion.” She reached over and grabbed her hands. “Oh, Brenna, don’t be desperate. You deserve better.”
“I’m not desperate. I know what I want, and I’m taking the steps to get there. Plus think of how it will look for business. I would be married to a very eligible bachelor. A married matchmaker gets more business. You hinted at that once. I’ve thought this through.”
Pauline sat back in her chair, folded her arms and flashed a skeptical look, but didn’t reply.
***
To her amazement Stephen was just as unenthusiastic.
“I thought you liked him,” Brenna said, switching the phone to her other ear.
“I do, but marrying a guy for his money? That’s not like you.”
“He’s marrying me for a promotion. Isn’t that the same thing?”
He was silent a moment then said, “Marriage is hard enough when you love each other, when you don’t—”
“We understand each other.”
“Divorce is hard you know.”
“Why would you even think that way?”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Brenna slid into the couch. “That won’t happen. I’ll never let a man hurt me again.”
***
Virginia in the spring is very much like the Virgin Queen after which she was named—proud and prosperous. Especially on mornings when daylight arrives in hand with a soft mist swirling across tall grass that undulates like waves against the breeze. Brenna marveled at such a morning as she sat on a little mare Hunter had given her. It was their third ride and she was quickly becoming accustomed to being on a horse again. She had been an avid rider when she was young and occasionally took lessons when her doctor encouraged her to exercise. But to her it wasn’t exercise, it was freedom.
She glanced at the Victorian house in the distance. On its white wraparound porch, she, Hunter and his parents had sipped raspberry lemonade for the past two evenings and talked about the wedding. She was glad she and Hunter had arrived early so that she could feel part of the family without his grandfather’s watchful eyes.
The late spring air lifted the perfume from the rambling peony border around the house where white blooms burst with shots of yellow. She looked at Hunter on his stallion, a large brown horse with eyes just as intense and clever as its rider. Her mare took little notice of either of them. Brenna couldn’t do the same. She was looking at her future husband.
It seemed appropriate that now surrounded by this open country where foxes and beavers ran wild that she would face the reality of her choice. She waited for unease, shock, doubt to hit, but none of those emotions claimed her, just a gentle peace, a firm knowing.
Suddenly, she felt wild, free, impulsive.
“Race you to those trees!” she called. Before he could reply she broke into a run. She was a shadow through the mist, becoming the wind; her horse the air. She could have ridden until time melted into nothingness, but she reined in at her destination. She threw Hunter a smug grin when he stopped beside her.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.
She raised a brow. “Did I worry you?”
He crossed his forearms over the pommel and glared at her. “Was that your goal?”
“You didn’t need to worry. I know how to ride.”
His eyes swept over the horse then her. “Obviously.” He turned his stallion. “But don’t ever do that again.”
She followed. “What? Race you?”
“No.” He shot her a glance. “Win.”
She laughed and they trotted back to the stables.
***
That evening, Brenna changed for the reception with mounting dread. She did not look forward to meeting Doran or his grandfather again. So she was thrilled to see only Ruby and another woman holding a baby, sitting in the parlor room. They looked settled in the casual elegance of the room where hand stitched pillows lay on the sofa, and a dyed turquoise tapered vase welcomed conversation. She smiled at Ruby then introduced herself to the woman she assumed was Doran’s wife, Angie.
She was not a beautiful woman. She didn’t need to be. She had the confidence and grace that was devastatingly attractive to men and envied by most women. Dark eyes nearly swallowed up a heart shaped face. Her straight black hair curled up at the end.
“Hello, I’m Brenna.” She glanced down at the baby’s perfect, fine features. “He’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. His name is James.” The woman smiled. There was no pretense in the expression so Brenna began to relax. “I’m glad we get to meet. My husband told me about you.”
Brenna sat down beside her and grimaced. “That can’t be good.”
“I like to form my own opinions. I’m Angelina by the way.”
Brenna started. “Angelina? Funny a couple weeks back Hunter was talking about a woman...” She stopped at the look on her face. “You mean..?” For some reason she couldn’t finish the sentence.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m his ex-wife.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brenna didn’t remember the rest of the evening, what was said or done. She moved as though in a dream. Faces and voices blended together. All that was clear was Angelina and Hunter. The woman Hunter had loved, could possibly still love, was only a few feet away from him, holding her perfect baby. A baby that could have been his. A perfect baby she may not be able to give him. She didn’t love him so she didn’t understand the wild surge of jealousy that gripped her.
She watched Angelina as Doran planted a kiss on her cheek, the love for her clear in his gaze. She hadn’t thought him capable of such tenderness. She wondered if Angelina knew how lucky she was to have two men who’d married her for love. At dinner she could barely eat, her skin burning with anger and a sense of betrayal every time Hunter brushed against her. The tilapia, roasted potatoes and sautéed asparagus tasted like paper.
She could feel Orson’s speculative stare as he sat at the head of the table. “I didn’t picture you to be the quiet type,” he said.
Brenna focused on her dinner, determined not to spar with him. “Tonight I wish to enjoy a wonderful dinner and celebrate a long and successful marriage.”
Audrey nodded. “Very beautifully said.”
Angelina sent her a grateful smile. “Yes, thank you.”
Orson grunted. “Hopefully, you’ll give us a grandchild sooner than this pair.”
Audrey touched his hand. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”
He pulled away. “I can talk about what I want to.”
“Not when you’re in the minority,” Hunter said in a quiet tone. “And I can assure you that no one else wishes to discuss the topic.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure,” Doran said. “You plan everything else. Your family planning schedule may be of interest.”
Hunter cut his tilapia in one swift movement. “Only if you would like to share why your family planning took so long.”
Angelina touched Doran’s sleeve before he replied.
Ruby turned towards the large window. “It’s a lovely evening, don’t you agree Brenna?”
“It’s a lovely property,” she said.
“You and Hunter are always welcome.”
“We’ll remember that.” Hunter patted Brenna’s hand. It took all her might not to pull away. His touch felt like needles sticking her flesh.
“Has he shown you the attic? When he was a little boy he used to be up there for hours.”
Brenna feigned interest. “Doing what?”
“Creating things. We could never understand exactly what they were. His mother—” She stopped. A startled silence fell as though the chandelier had come crashing down from the ceiling.
Brenna glanced around the table amazed by the silence. “His mother what?”
“His mother liked to go there,” Ruby said vaguely. “I believe it’s time for dessert.” She rang the bell, effectively stopping the topic.
After dessert they left the dinning room and indulged in after dinner drinks and conversation but soon the air in the house felt too thin. Brenna escaped out to the porch and walked down the steps to the peonies. She bent down to inhale their scent. Suddenly, she felt an arm around her lifting her up. An anxious voice said, “Are you all right?”
She struggled against his hold. “I’m fine, Hunter. Let me go. I was just smelling the flowers.”
“Oh.” He released her and picked one up. “There.”
“You didn’t have to kill it.” She brought the blossom to her nose and saw a sleeping ladybug inside. She gently set it back down then glanced up and took a hasty step back, surprised by the sight she saw. Hunter stood holding James, the baby asleep on his shoulder.
“What are you doing with him?”
He glanced at the baby with affection. “He was throwing one of his tantrums and I was able to calm him down. Everyone else just panics.” He shoved his free hand in his pocket. “You’ve been strangely quiet.”
“I thought it best to hold my tongue.”
“Shame. I was looking forward to some sword play.”
“Then let me start with you.”
“By all means.” He took his hand out of his pocket when she didn’t continue. “Well?”
“I’m trying to think up the best way to insult you.”
“Making me wait seems to be working.”
“You forgot to tell me something.”
“I did?”
“Yes.” She tapped the head of her cane. “This afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting Doran’s gracious wife, Angie; I also had the privilege of meeting your ex-wife, Angelina. Imagine my surprise when I realized they were the same woman.”