Mary was a very slender woman now, her bones small, her hair gray, but her eyes were bright and the few wrinkles looked more like laugh lines. Isabeau could see a timeless beauty in her, the bone structure, the skin, the ready smile. Or maybe it was her inner spirit shining through.
“Are you absolutely certain?” Isabeau was afraid Mary didn’t understand the treasure she had. “Perhaps a granddaughter . . .”
Mary shook her head. “This is for Marisa. I
want
to do this. We spent so many hours talking about it and planning it, and if I do this for me, I’m doing it for her as well. And Ruthie was so pleased when I told her you might wear the dress.”
Conner’s mother had touched so many hearts. She was an exceptional woman and she’d raised an exceptional son. Isabeau felt humble that she was reaping the rewards of Marisa’s friendship with Mary.
“Thank you, Mary. I accept gladly.”
“Let’s try it on then.”
Isabeau couldn’t wait. Suddenly she was very excited about her wedding day. She wouldn’t be wearing jeans and a tank top, she’d be wearing the first dress the famous designer Ruth Ann Gobel had ever made. She knew she would feel like she was in the midst of a fairy tale.
Mary led the way to the back of the house to an empty guest room. Isabeau was extremely careful, half afraid that she might rip the dress. The material felt alive under her hands. She stripped and stepped into the dress, wiggling until she could pull it over her breasts. The moment Mary began to close the buttons, Isabeau could tell it fit like a glove, as if it had been made for her alone. Knowing the history of the dress only made it all the more special to her.
Very slowly, nearly holding her breath, she turned around to face Mary. She felt magical, beautiful, even extraordinary, and she hadn’t even seen herself. Mary’s eyes grew bright as she blinked back tears.
“Oh, my dear, thank you for this moment. You’re stunning. I knew I’d feel as if I had a daughter, and I do. Look in the mirror.”
The looking glass was full length on a wooden stand. Mary turned it slowly until Isabeau’s reflection stared back at her. She gasped and brought both hands to cover her mouth. “Is that really me?”
Mary brushed a hand through Isabeau’s hair. “You’re so beautiful. I think your man is going to be very happy that he wanted an actual wedding ceremony for you.”
Isabeau’s fingers creased in the dress. “Don’t tell him about this.” The dress made her feel more than romantic and beautiful—she felt sexy. Really sexy. A wild temptress. Maybe Ruth Ann Gobel had woven in a spell the way some of the newspapers claimed when they talked about her work. Women felt different in her designs. Isabeau certainly did.
“Oh Mary!” Another voice chimed in from the doorway, and Isabeau whirled around to see another woman. She looked a little more worn than Mary, was a little heavier, but her eyes were kind, and right now she was staring at Isabeau with rapt attention. “So this is our little bride. Isabeau Chandler? I’m Ruth Ann Gobel. Mary tells me you may need some alterations, but can’t tell where. Let me look.”
For the next two hours, Isabeau was spun around, poked, prodded, her hair washed and redone in preparation for some “do” Mary and Ruth both felt was necessary to complete the look. The two decorated the cake with surprising flourish, and other women began to arrive with platters of food.
“Go out onto the back porch and have tea with your man. We put out fruit, crackers and cheese, and you should eat something,” Mary said. “You’ve got a couple of hours to rest before everyone begins to arrive.”
Isabeau looked around the kitchen at all the women. “There’s more?”
“The entire valley is coming, dear,” Mary said with a sweet smile. “A chance for a celebration, you know. We’re all on the other side of sixty and we could use something fun like this. No one is going to miss it.”
Isabeau shook her head. Conner had no idea what he’d gotten them all into with his sudden idea of marriage. She felt a little light- headed herself, the talk swirling around her until all the words ran together and there was just the roar of need in her head. Need of Conner. Need for freedom. Need to let her cat out.
She ran her nails lightly over her arm. At least for a little while the other women had managed to drown out the needs of her leopard, but after a while, the close proximity of so many females—even though they were no threat to her mate—made her leopard cranky. Isabeau sighed and wandered out to the back porch, stopping abruptly when she saw Conner sitting at a table with Rio. A long, jaunty red-and-white cloth hung to the ground around the circular table, and an unlit candle adorned the center, along with plates of strawberries and raspberries mixed with cheese and crackers, a pitcher of lemonade and another of ice tea. The ladies had already been here.
She studied Conner through half-closed eyes, the width of his shoulders, the heavy muscles of his chest and arms, his firm jaw and straight nose, the four scars that only made him look tougher. Her entire body reacted to the sight of him, and something wholly mischievous and very sexy took hold of her. She moved up behind Conner and deliberately leaned over his shoulder, allowing her aching breasts to push against his body. At once her nipples tingled with arousal. Her head was against his, her mouth close to his ear. She breathed warm air onto the side of his neck and pressed her lips right against his ear. “I wish we were alone.”
She felt his reaction, the small ripple of awareness sliding down his spine, the slight rise in his temperature. She smiled with satisfaction and sank into the chair quite close to his, pulling it close to the table so the cloth draped down. If she had to suffer, so could he.
She took a strawberry from the bowl and bit off the end, letting the juice gleam on her lips as she kept her gaze steady on Conner. He shifted, easing the tightness of his jeans, and she nearly purred. Her gaze flicked to Rio. “I was just wondering, although we did go over all the contingencies, thinking up everything that could go wrong . . .” She swiped her tongue over her lips to get the juice of the strawberry off. “Remember when Jeremiah said Suma came to his village in Costa Rica and talked to the youth? Did anyone ask Jeremiah if any others took Suma up on his invitation?”
She dropped her free hand into Conner’s lap, her palm cupping the thick bulge, just holding still for a moment. His thigh muscles bunched. His body tensed. She took another bite of strawberry and smiled at Rio. “We could be facing a little army of leopards in that compound, right?”
Rio frowned and tipped his chair back. “I should have thought of that.” He glanced at Conner. “We both should have.”
Conner’s croak of agreement was a little strangled as she began to rub slow, caressing circles along that hard, thick bulge. His hand covered hers, pressing her palm tight against him and holding it still.
“I’m going to ask him, see if I can get an answer,” Rio said. He pushed back his chair.
Isabeau watched him leave with a small smile.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Conner hissed.
She lifted one shoulder and sent him her best siren’s smile. “Playing with fire. I like how it burns.”
“You keep it up and you’ll be crawling under the table and giving me a little relief.”
She shook her head. “Not this time. This time, I’ll be insisting you find a way to give me some relief. My cat won’t let up.”
He sat back in his chair, his eyes going golden. “Really? She’s giving you trouble, today?” His gaze grew hot.
Flames licked over her skin. She tried rubbing him again, but his fingers tightened over hers. He pulled her hand out of his lap and bit the ends of her fingers, sending a spasm of liquid heat rushing to her melting center.
“It’s hot as hell knowing you need my cock buried inside your burning little body. I should torment you a little bit and wait until you’re begging me.”
She leaned close to him, licking at his ear with the tip of her tongue. Her teeth raked the side of his neck. “Or maybe you’ll be the one begging.”
He groaned softly. “You’re killing me, baby, with all these women surrounding us. And believe me, they’re sneaking peeks. I can hear their whispers and their laughter.”
“I’m just obliging them. They want to know what kind of package my man is delivering,” she whispered and tugged at his earlobe with her teeth.
“I think they’re judging whether or not I have enough strength to resist a little temptation from a she-cat.”
“Or enough manhood to do something about it,” she countered.
He rose so fast he knocked the chair over. With one swift motion he picked her up, rolled her over and deposited her on his shoulder, head down his back. One hand clamped tight just under her bottom as he stepped off the porch and headed toward the barn. Laughter followed them, the sounds of both men and women.
“What are you doing?” Isabeau grabbed his shirt with both fists and hung on as he strode across the uneven terrain.
“Proving my manhood, beloved. I certainly don’t want you—or that pack of women—to think I can’t handle the job.”
“No one’s replacing you, crazy leopard man, that was called teasing.”
“Totally foreign concept to me,” he said and yanked open the barn door. “Proving manhood I understand.”
She was laughing so hard she could barely hold on. “Put me down, cave man.”
“I am the ruler of the forest and I’ve captured my mate.”
Rio stepped in front of him, Doc at his side. “You can put your little captive there down, Tarzan, and back off.”
Conner whirled around to face Felipe and Marcos coming in on his left. Felipe shook his head and snapped his fingers. “Give me the girl, ape man.”
Conner growled a warning and spun to his right, only to be blocked by Leonardo and Ruth Ann Gobel’s husband, Dan.
Leonardo held up his hand. “I don’t think so, not on her wedding day. Give us back our sister.”
Conner whirled around in circles, Isabeau laughing uncontrollably as they were surrounded by the men. Most were sixty or seventy, but they looked stern and uncompromising.
“Hand her over,” Doc ordered.
Conner reluctantly put Isabeau onto her feet, holding her body in front of his, his arm curled around her waist.
“You don’t understand,” he said as the mob pressed closer. “The women challenged my manhood. I had no choice.”
Rio crooked his finger at Isabeau. “Come here to me, little sister.”
Isabeau couldn’t keep a straight face. Rio managed to look scary, but his eyes were laughing as were most of the older men. Leonardo and Felipe were just plain snickering. She slid one hand behind her back and continued a slow massage over his thick erection all the while pretending to struggle against Conner’s arm. “He won’t let me go.”
“I’m going to have to take him out behind the barn and teach him some manners,” Doc declared. “You let that girl go.”
“Not happening, Doc,” Conner said, holding her to him. Her fingers were pure magic. He’d forgotten fun. Maybe all of them had. Abel and Mary reminded them what life was all about—sharing with family and friends. Laughter and hope. Love. And he loved Isabeau Chandler with everything in him.
“He’s just too strong, Rio,” Isabeau claimed and then reached her arm up and behind her to hook around the nape of Conner’s neck and draw his head down to hers.
Her lips were velvet soft, firm and far too enticing to resist. Her mouth was hot, her tongue sensually tangling with his. For a moment he forgot their audience and their silly game and just lost himself in the wonder of her kiss. He tasted love and it was the most addictive spice there was.
“Hey there!” Rio said. “Little sister, I think you’re worse than he is. Let her go, Conner, or we’re taking you out behind the barn to give you a little lesson in respect.”
“Actually,” Conner said, without a hint of remorse, “I am being respectful. I’m trying to spare you and your women from seeing what your shortcomings are. If I don’t keep Isabeau right here, we could have a riot on our hands.”
She spun around and pushed him away from her with both hands flat on his chest, color flooding her face. “You’re terrible.” She marched over to Rio, her nose in the air.
Doc intercepted her path, catching her arm. “Young lady, I think you need to come with me. It’s obvious I need to put you in protective custody.”
She turned her head to watch the men close in on Conner. They were laughing as they advanced menacingly. She had the feeling her bridegroom was about to be subjected to some ancient ritual. She went back to the house with Doc. The women were gathered on the porch, watching the men’s antics, laughing together.
Mary snapped a tea towel at her. “Naughty girl.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “Sign the documents for Abel and let him complete your health certificates and then we’ve prepared you a nice bath. Claudia will do your hair for you. She’s a wonderful hairdresser. Leopard hair grows so thick and fast and yours has curl to it. She’ll be able to put it up beautifully.”
“I brought jewelry,” another woman said. “I’m Monica, a jewelry designer. As soon as Mary called me and said you were Marisa’s daughter-in-law, I knew I had found the perfect person for my most special design. It’s just been sitting there. I’ve never even displayed it. I just knew it was for an important occasion. This is my present to you on your wedding day.”
She held up a box. Champagne diamonds sparkled in a swirl of glittering white diamonds dropping in tears from a chain of white gold. The earrings were small teardrops matching the necklace. It was the most beautiful jewelry Isabeau had ever seen. She stepped back, shaking her head. “I can’t accept that.”
Monica smiled at her. “I’m eighty-two, Isabeau. I have no children and this is my work. I’m grateful for the opportunity to give it to someone who will treasure it.”
Isabeau felt tears choking her. The kindness of these people, the sheer generosity was amazing. She let her breath out, struggling not to cry. “Then, thank you. I’ll never forget any of you. You make me feel as if I really have a family.”
The women smiled at one another and ushered her into the house, out of Conner’s sight.
17