promise than heat. Dizzy, she swayed against him, and his broad hands slid up to her shoulders to anchor her. Feeling his smile beneath her lips, and suddenly aware of their audience, she flushed when he eased away from her with a gentle push against her upper arms.
A flurry of congratulations later, the papers had been signed, the justice of the peace had been dispatched, and the small wedding party stood in a loose circle, grinning at each other. All except Colette, that was. She felt like she’d been caught in a hurricane: buffeted by winds too fierce to fight, disoriented, and unable to manage anything more complicated than simple breathing.
“You made a beautiful bride, dear,” said Janet, reaching to brush a stray curl from Colette’s cheek. “And Mr. Whitfield made a very handsome groom.”
“And Stephen here, despite his wild ways, is a good boy,” said Stephen’s secretary as she squeezed Colette’s bare shoulder. “Treat him well and he’ll make you a fine husband.”
“Of course I will,” said Stephen, reaching to haul her back to his side. “Stop scaring her.”
The two witnesses exchanged an amused glance and then laughed. “All new brides are scared,” said Janet. “It’s your job to set her fears to rest.”
Her husband—her husband!—grinned and then wrapped a possessive arm about her waist. “I fully intend to do so,” he said with a grin toward both matronly women. She sensed a shift in his purpose as he turned to query his secretary, “Is everything arranged?”
She bobbed her head and then dug in her wide bag for a travel binder. Extending it to Stephen, she said, “The tickets are inside, along with contact numbers for all involved parties.”
“Tickets?” Colette asked. “What tickets?”
“Janet?” he said, ignoring Colette. “Are our bags packed?”
“Yes, sir, they are.” Her face pleated in a wide smile. “I even threw in a few extra things I thought you might need.”
“Excellent. Why don’t you and Emma go fetch them while Colette and I have a few moments to talk?”
The two giddy females tripped out of the room with Emma in tow, obviously relishing their role as coconspirators in Stephen’s plans to kidnap his new wife.
“Stephen,” Colette said, turning to face her new husband with alarm tightening her belly. “What is going on?”
Stephen hauled her back into his arms, anchoring his groin against hers and leaning to breathe against her neck. “I’m taking you on a honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon!” she blurted as she arched back within his arms. The prospect of spending days alone with him in a romantic setting while trying to maintain her emotional distance sent terror winging through her veins. “But we can’t leave Emma!”
“We’re not. I’ve arranged for Janet and Emma to accompany us.”
Colette’s thoughts churned, trying to adjust to this unexpected turn of events. “But what about the Renaissance? Isn’t its grand reopening in three weeks?”
He cocked a brow. “Everything is right on schedule, and I’ll just be a phone call away if anything goes wrong.” He stared down at her, obviously bemused by her panicked attempts to delay. “Why do I get the impression you don’t want to take a honeymoon with me?”
She pressed against his chest with both splayed hands, unable to think properly with him so close. “One bed’s as good as another, don’t you think? We don’t really have to go anywhere exotic to have sex.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Is what you think this is about? Sex?”
The low note of warning in his voice cinched her trepidation into worry. “Isn’t it?”
His grip against her waist tightened. “No, Colette. It’s about building a marriage. About a husband wanting to please his new wife.”
She shook her head while her stomach trembled in protest. “But honeymoons are for couples who love each other.” She blinked, refusing to allow the emotions that hovered treacherously close to the surface to show. “And we don’t, remember?”
“I want this to be a new start for us, Colette.” He lifted a hand to cup her jaw while probing her gaze with his. “So why don’t we just see how it plays out?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“DO YOU want to eat our luncheon out here or inside?” Stephen asked several afternoons later, as he approached her lounger on their private seafront patio.
She squinted up at him from beneath her wide-brimmed hat, his gorgeous body outlined by the Mediterranean sun and the blue, blue sky of the French Riviera.
He handed her a glass of sparkling water and smiled. “The butler has brought our meal and wants to know where