Jared's Love-Child. Sandra Field

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СКАЧАТЬ thrush had been singing in the walnut tree…

      Oh God, she felt far weepier than any bride. She wouldn’t cry; she wouldn’t! Apart from anything else it would only confirm Jared Holt’s low estimation of women. Emotional basket cases, that was how he saw the female sex. Irrational, completely at the mercy of their feelings. Not like him.

      Jared had passed his father the ring and the clergyman was intoning the age-old symbolic words. Nervously Devon eased Benson’s ring from her thumb. Suddenly it slipped through her fingers and fell into the midst of the orchids. She scrabbled for it, bruising the sleek, expensive petals; when it didn’t emerge, she gave the bouquet a shake, and with an inward moan of dismay watched the ring plummet to the ground and roll along the green carpet. Toward Jared.

      He moved very swiftly for so big a man. Stooping, he grabbed the ring and passed it to her. His eyes were looking straight into hers. They weren’t black, as she’d thought when she’d been standing on the front step. They were a dark midnight blue, impenetrable and cold as a winter sky. Her lashes flickered. Gingerly, trying not to touch him, she plucked the ring from his open palm, hearing the low murmur of amusement from the congregation. Blushing scarlet, she passed the ring to her mother.

      Let this be over soon, please, she prayed. Let me get out of here without disgracing myself. Without revealing to anyone—especially Jared—how fragile I feel.

      He probably already knows. He doesn’t miss a trick, that man.

      Benson kissed his new wife with decorum. Her mother, Devon noticed distantly, looked flushed and very happy. Then Aunt Bessie swung into action again, pulling out all the stops. Benson took Alicia’s hand in his with a big grin, and started down the aisle between the ranked chairs. Now it’s our turn, Devon thought. Mine and Jared’s.

      She turned to him with a brilliant smile, resting her fingers on the arm he was proffering, not at all surprised to feel the muscles taut as stretched cable.

      With a deliberation that was somehow terrifying, he put his own hand on top of hers. The heat of his skin burned into her flesh like a brand; the raw hunger in his eyes filled her with panic. Then, suddenly, the hunger was gone, vanished as if it had never been.

      Turned off, as though by a switch.

      Every nerve in her body screamed at her to beware. She dragged her gaze away from his and smiled into the sea of faces, dimly rather proud of her composure. With a super-human effort she retrieved her voice, saying lightly, “Your aunt is excelling herself.”

      “You got a real kick out of shoving that dress in my face, didn’t you?”

      He towered over her, even when she was wearing high heels. Devon looked up at him limpidly and said in a voice as smooth as cream, “At this precise moment we’re being observed by a couple of hundred socialites, some of whom I assume are friends of yours…do try and control your temper. As for your aunt, any musician worth her salt should be able to improvise.”

      “She never does anything but improvise, and I really hate being made a fool of.”

      The photographer planted himself in front of them and angled the camera at their faces. “Just a little closer to her, Mr. Holt. Big smile—that’s great.”

      Blinded by the flash, horribly aware of the jut of Jared’s hip and the hard line of his shoulder, Devon stumbled on a fold of the carpet. Quickly Jared’s arm went round her waist, and for a moment all her weight was resting on him. Instinctively she knew that with very little effort he could have picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. One arm around her hips, the other pressing her to his chest…

      Was she losing her mind?

      She pushed free of him, struggling for composure, and with huge relief saw that Benson and Alicia were waiting for them. “Mother, congratulations,” Devon said warmly, kissing Alicia on the cheek. Then she held out her hand to Benson. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said. “I’m only sorry I had to wait until you were all the way to the altar.”

      Benson planted a kiss on her cheek. “Devon…a pleasure. You’re almost as beautiful as your mother.”

      Alicia gave a delighted giggle, and Devon heard Jared’s breath hiss between his teeth. “You’re much better-looking than your son,” she responded cordially. “I wish you both every happiness.”

      As Alicia hugged her again, spilling out how nervous she’d been and how relieved she was that the ceremony was over, Benson drew his son aside. “You need glasses, boy,” he said in a jovial undertone. “A frump? The girl’s gorgeous!”

      “You should have seen her,” Jared muttered. “It looked like she’d slept in her suit for a week and her hair was—”

      “Bifocals,” Benson interrupted, clapping Jared on the arm.

      Jared bit his tongue. Bad enough that Devon had made a fool of him; he didn’t need his father rubbing it in. But he’d get even, he thought, if it took him the rest of the day. Devon had used her sexuality—not to mention that blue dress—to get at him; he just might use his own sexuality in revenge. God knows enough women had made it clear how attractive he was.

      He would show Devon Fraser she shouldn’t play with fire. And what enormous pleasure that would give him.

      “You’re very quiet, Jared,” Alicia said provocatively.

      Jared gave himself a mental shake, pasted a smile on his face, and with impeccable good manners congratulated his new stepmother and his father on their marriage. An ordinary observer couldn’t have faulted him. But Devon, attuned to him in a way that disconcerted her, could see the stiffness in his shoulders and hear the reservations in his voice. He was playing to the audience. And he didn’t mean a word of it.

      The four of them then formed an impromptu receiving line. The faces passed in front of Devon in a blur, Jared’s manners irreproachable as he said, time after time, “May I introduce Alicia’s daughter to you?…Miss Devon Fraser.”

      Aunt Bessie stood out from the crowd. Aunt Bessie was wearing orange shantung and a lime-green hat; her fingers were so cluttered with diamonds Devon was amazed she’d been able to play any notes at all, right or wrong. She kissed her nephew and said in a piercing voice, “Time you got yourself hitched, Jared. You’re not getting any younger.”

      “You married Uncle Leonard instead of waiting for me,” Jared said. “It broke my heart.”

      Aunt Bessie chuckled, looking from him to Devon. “Now this young lady looks like she’d be your match,” she remarked. “You must be Alicia’s daughter.”

      “I’m Devon, yes.”

      “Don’t let him fool you with that big-businessman act. Heart of gold.” She gave another raucous chuckle. “Pockets full of gold, too. You after his money?”

      Devon said crisply, “I’m not after him at all. Despite your recommendation.”

      “That’s what you need, Jared, a woman who’ll stick up for herself.” Jared’s aunt leaned toward Devon. “Too many of ’em let him walk all over them. Not good for him.”

      “Aunt Bessie,” Jared said, “you’re holding up the line.”

      “I’ll talk to you later, dear,” Aunt СКАЧАТЬ