Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Brent cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs lightly caressing her jaw, and gave her a crooked smile. “What will you do if I continue in that bad habit?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I have so little experience with men. You are so unpredictable, but you would never hurt me, would you—like my father?”

He felt pain in his gut, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. He pulled her tightly against him, but this time he felt no lust for her. “No one will ever harm you again.”

“You truly wish to marry me?”

“Yes, I truly do. Will you?”

She smiled, a dazzling smile that quickly made his lust return with startling force. “Yes,” she said. “Since you beg so gallantly—”

“Byrony.”

“Byrony what?”

“If ever I want to insult you, I’ll take you to bed instead.”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be too bad.”

His eyes went to his bed. He pictured her naked, felt her flesh beneath his hands. He swallowed convulsively, but held himself in control. It wouldn’t be right, or fair to her. He said, “I hope Del Saxton returns quickly from Sacramento.”

A week later, they were married at Delaney Saxton’s house. Byrony was wearing one of Monsieur David’s creations, a white satin gown that was sewn over with at least five pounds of lace. I’m married, really married, she thought, staring about the Saxton drawing room. The Newtons were there, Saint Morris, Tony Dawson, Dan Brewer, Maggie, and of course Chauncey and Del. She knew she should be ecstatic, but each time she’d left Brent’s apartment, she’d seen people staring at her, seen the speculation in their eyes. She’d said nothing to Brent. She’d seen him rarely, as a matter of fact.

“Well, wife, what do you think?”

She jumped, spilling some of her champagne. He looked so handsome, she thought. His suit was pearl gray, as was his vest, his shirt white as new snow.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone has been so kind.”

“What did you expect—a stone-throwing party at sun-down?”

“My ring, it’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he said, his voice equally as formal as hers. “It belonged to Chauncey and I bought it from her.”

“Chauncey? Not Del?”

“Some women do have money, you know,” he said, not meaning anything by his words.

And I have nothing, she thought as she watched him turn to speak to Dan Brewer, Del’s banking partner.

“What’s this, Mrs. Hammond? Grim thoughts already?” Maggie grinned at her, patting her arm.

“Oh, Maggie! I didn’t know—that is, I was just thinking that I don’t have any money. I was wondering what it would be like to be rich, to have real control over your life.”

“Few women ever have that feeling, my dear. Not unless husbands die and leave them money, or they endeavor to go into business for themselves. But that, Byrony, I wouldn’t recommend.”

Maggie flinched when Byrony raised lost eyes to hers and whispered, “Then I am to sit doing nothing and accept this

husband’s bounty as I did the last?”

“Oh, Byrony, don’t. Everything will work out all right, you’ll see. May I ask you a question?”

Byrony nodded, her eyes on her new husband. He was laughing, a beautiful, rich sound. She watched his hands slash through the air as he made a point. Hands that had touched her. It seemed a long time ago, that night when he’d made love to her.

“Do you love Brent?”

“Yes,” she said so softly that Maggie had to lean close to her to hear the small word. What woman wouldn’t fall in love with that clever, handsome bastard? Maggie wondered.