Star-Spangled Bride

touch. The realization caused the muscles of her stomach to clench. 'You do seem… harder.'

'Much harder.' He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He didn't look at her as he got jerkily to his feet. 'The Red December has nothing on you as far as torture goes.'

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Her breasts were lifting and falling with every rapid breath. 'Then why didn't you stop me?'

He moved toward the door, snatching his shirt from the chair as he passed. 'It seemed worth it at the time. I believe I've turned into a masochist.'

'Gabe.'

He turned and looked at her, and when he saw her expression, he shook his head. 'When we make love, it won't be because you want to heal me. I want a hell of a lot more than that.'

Frustration and guilt surged through her as she watched the door close behind him. It may have started because she wanted to help him, but she had continued because she had not been able to resist the temptation of touching him, making him feel the whirlpool of emotion that was pulling her toward him. She had wanted sex, but she had wanted something else, something more. She had wanted to belong to him. She needed to belong to him.

It could still happen. It was clear he did want her and they were being married tomorrow. Heck, she had a chance to clear up the misunderstandings and win the grand prize. She might not be able to keep it for long but…

She quickly shied away from that train of thought. She wouldn't think beyond the wedding tomorrow.

Wedding gowns, flowers, guests, and a holy man saying words over them. The concept wasas foreign to her as she could ever have imagined. It was the kind of thing that happened to those nice, wholesome women who lived in Iowa and put up preserves for county fairs, not to her.

Yet it was happening and she could feel the excitement beginning to build at the thought of tomorrow.

SIX

'You look wonderful,' Gabe said.

'It's the gown that's wonderful.' She gently touched the skirt of the exquisite gown, a simple drift of ivory silk that framed her bare shoulders with fine Valenciennes lace.

'It's not the gown.'

'Are you sure it's okay?' She gestured to the white rose headdress that held her veil in place. 'It makes me look more like an old-time Gibson girl than ever.'

'There's nothing wrong with Gibson girls.' He stepped forward, reached into his jacket, and brought out a small jeweler's box. 'I have something for you.'

'What is it? The ring?'

'No, Dan has the ring. I chose a simple band. This is a bride's gift. It's a tradition.'

'I know you said you believed in tradition, but this isn't a traditional wedding.' She opened the box. Earrings. Exquisite pearl drops cascading from small studs channel-set with sapphires and rubies. 'Red, white, and blue,' she murmured huskily.

'Every wedding should have something blue, and I thought the theme was fitting for a Star-Spangled Bride. I'll give you the matching necklace when you become a citizen.'

'I wish I was as confident as you. Thank you.' She moved to the mirror and started to put them on. 'They're lovely.' Her voice was tremulous. 'I'm sure they'll photograph beautifully.'

He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. The scent of his spicy after-shave drifted to her. 'I'm sure they will too.'

She met his gaze in the mirror. He was staring at her with an intentness that made her breathless. 'I suppose we should leave.'

'Yes.' He didn't move.

She reached up and pulled down the veil to cover her face. 'Another veil,' she said shakily. 'A man probably thought this one up too.'

'I don't agree,' he said. 'At this point in a relationship, a man has no use for barriers.'

She was glad of the veil. She felt naked, helpless, completely vulnerable, and more womanly than she had ever felt in her life. She searched desperately for something to say that would permit her to regain her equilibrium. 'At least it hides the bruise.'

His expression changed, became shuttered. 'Yes, that's one use for it.' He took a step back. 'We'd better get going. Our friends in the press will be getting restless.'

'More questions?'

He shook his head. 'I told them pictures would be permitted, but if anyone tried for an impromptu interview with you, he'd be thrown out.'

'They'll try anyway.'

'Dan will run interference.' He took her hand and led her toward the door. 'Don't worry, we'll take care of everything.'

Again she felt that overwhelming sense of womanliness. It was strange to yield, to be protected and treasured. Such treatment in large doses would probably annoy her to madness, but for once it felt infinitely precious.

Her hand tightened on his as he led her out of the suite…

The ceremony took place in the beautiful little chapel on the grounds of the palace and was like a strange poignant dream for Ronnie. She was only vaguely aware of banks of flowers- purple hyacinths, scarlet poinsettias, and white roses-the dark-skinned clergyman in his sober black attire and crisp white collar, Gabe standing next to her, straight and strong. She wondered sadly how she would have felt at this moment if she knew Gabe was marrying her because he loved her.

'Ronnie?' Gabe was frowning with concern, his gaze fixed intently on her face. He reached out and took her hand.

She cast a quick glance at the clergyman before she whispered, 'It's not time for you to take my hand yet.'

'Ask me if I care,' he said gruffly. His hand tightened in possession and affection as it had when he had led her from the suite.

He had sensed her sadness and had acted to dispel it with his usual forcefulness. He did care about her. He might not love her, but he did care. She smiled tremulously as she nodded at Gabe and then looked back at the clergyman.

A few minutes later the ceremony was over, and the kiss he gave her was so tender, it might even have been called loving.

Then he was turning, leading her down the ribbon-lined aisle and out of the chapel across the rose garden to the reception in the palace.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of impressions. The long white damask-covered table with its array of fine foods, the ice swan rising in crystal beauty in the middle of the table. Her meeting with His Majesty, Sheikh Ben Raschid, and his lovely red-haired wife, Sabrina. Either Gabe or Dan was always at her elbow and she only had to smile, nod, and drink champagne.

'A lovely wedding, Mrs. Falkner.'

Mrs. Falkner. The words had been said so many times in the last hour that she had almost become accustomed to them. She turned and smiled automatically at the short balding man in a blue suit who had uttered them. She didn't recognized him. 'You're very kind.'

Dan glanced at Gabe, who was across the room, and then took a protective step nearer Ronnie. 'Good of you to come, Pilsner.'

'I wouldn't have missed it.'

'Ronnie, this is Herb Pilsner,' Dan said. 'He's a very big man in Immigration.'

Ronnie stiffened as she looked into Pilsner's cool green eyes. 'How do you do.'

'Actually, not too well.' His lips thinned. 'I'm tired and jet-lagged and a little annoyed. I was rousted out of bed