The Tycoon's Forced Bride

She glanced at Colm, saw he was watching the mother and child, too. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” Ava asked, feeling the old ache whenever she thought of Jack.

“Very.”

She stopped, shielded her eyes to watch the pair on the sand and Colm stood with her. “I didn’t trap you,” she said quietly. “The pregnancy was an accident, but once I found out about Jack, I wanted him. Badly.” Her heart felt tender, almost bruised. “I still want him. But I just don’t want to hurt him. Not ever again. And I trust you, Colm. I trust you to make sure it won’t happen.”

“You have my word.”

“Because I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him again. I couldn’t hand it. I still hate myself for what happened last year, because I know he’s a miracle. He survived my accident, and my coma, and being born months too early. He’s a gift. I know that. Which is why I can’t let him be hurt—”

“Ava.” Colm swore softly and reached for her. He held her against him, his fingers sliding through her hair. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll make this work. We will.”

“But what if I hurt him again?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have faith, and I believe we can do this. Together.” His blue-green eyes blazed, his expression fierce and determined. “We can.”

Before she could answer, a high jubilant voice shouted, “Daddy! Daddy!

You’re home!”

Turning, Ava saw the little boy in the bright yellow and blue swim trunks sprint across the beach, small feet kicking up the sand. He had big, dark eyes, olive skin, and he was laughing, delighted by the appearance of his father.

“Jack?” she whispered, a hand against her heart.

He looked achingly familiar. Just a wisp of a boy with dark hair that could use a cut. A ringlet lay on his forehead and as he ran, he

reached up, and ruffled his hair, disturbing the curl.

As Colm swung Jack into his arms, Ava realized that Jack looked just like her brother, Tadeo. It was a bittersweet resemblance. Tadeo had died young, just a year after Ava moved to New York.

“Introduce me, Colm,” she said, voice husky.

But Jack didn’t need an introduction. He lifted his dark head from his father’s shoulder and stared at Ava for a long, somber moment before whispering, “You’re my Mommy.”

Ava felt an explosion of pain, the emotion almost unbearable. “Yes,” she answered, reaching out to gently touch Jack’s dark hair. He was beautiful. Still so young. Half-baby, half-boy, she could see the tenderness in him, the softness at the edges of his mouth and jaw and chin.

Jack caught her fingers in his hand and he held them tight. “You came home.”

“Yes.”

“Where were you?” he asked.

She blinked, swallowed the huge lump filling her throat. “Lost.”

His eyes had filled with tears, too. “But Daddy found you.”

Chapter Twelve

‡

Did all brides feel this nervous?

Ava smoothed her ivory and gold couture gown over her tummy, feeling the butterflies grow by the minute. She shouldn’t be so nervous. Colm had said it wouldn’t be a fussy wedding, but moving to her bedroom window she peered through the slats of the plantation shutter and saw the stream of elegant couples heading towards the party tents.

Society wedding.

The words flashed through her mind as she let the shutter close. In less than a half hour she was marrying Colm McKenzie, international tycoon, doting father…sensual lover.

Her cheeks flamed and she felt heat burst to life in her middle, radiating in hot rays of awareness throughout her limbs.

A knock sounded on her door and the door opened. It was Colm.

His thick, dark blonde hair had been combed earlier but he must have ruffled it with an impatient hand and bits stood up at the front.

She went to him and smoothed the front down. “It was a little rock and roll,” she said, smiling at him. “But it did call attention to your cheekbones.”

“I do have fabulous cheekbones.”

She laughed out loud. “You’re mad.”

“For you.”

She shook her head, silently contradicting him.

“Yes. It’s true.” His lips curved in a slow appreciative smile. “And tonight you look simply stunning. You look like a princess. A Spanish princess.”

She smiled ruefully. “My father is a count.”

“And your mother must have been a goddess.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are. You’re always serious these days.” He was teasing her but his eyes were brilliant and intent, and she felt his hunger for her. If nothing else, she knew he desired her.

Reaching her side, Colm drew a small jeweler’s box from inside his tuxedo pocket and snapped it open to reveal a sparkling marquis-cut diamond set in platinum. “Your engagement ring,” he said, taking her left hand and slipping the ring onto her fourth finger.

“Is this really mine?”

“It is yours. I’ve been keeping it for you this last year.”

“I am so ashamed I don’t remember—”

“No shame,” he murmured, kissing her, silencing her. “We go forward, not back. There is no living in the past. We celebrate today. And that’s what we will do every day.”

Her eyes welled with tears and Ava held her ring up to the light. She turned her hand this way and that, transfixed by the stone’s radiance. “Look how it sparkles.”

“It’s the way it was cut,” he said, watching her face, not the ring. “The hard cuts reveal the diamond’s true beauty. Like you,” he added, kissing her once more, his lips lingering, making her tummy a crazy somersault.