From there it had gotten interesting. Duncan refused to budge on the Scotland issue. Sam refused to budge on signing him up with Wilde & Daughters Ltd. under an exclusive contract.
“I’m giving up my country,” she pointed out. “I don’t think what I’m asking of you comes close.”
In the end he gave in. Oh, he muttered something dark about crass commercialization, but she ignored him. When the accolades started rolling in, he’d change his tune soon enough.
And that left one final hurdle to be faced.
“When will you tell your family?” Duncan asked as she fixed them each a bowl of cereal.
“How does our silver wedding anniversary sound?” she asked, only half-kidding.
“You can’t be serious, lassie.”
“Lucky’s off on a fishing trip,” she said. “He’ll be out of touch for a few weeks.” Martie and Trask were on their honeymoon. Frankie was somewhere in Hawaii. And her mother Julia could be just about anywhere on the globe.
“The thing to do is elope,” she said. “They’ll love that.”
And if she eloped, she wouldn’t have to face the inevitable round of questions. Elopements were synonymous with love. Any suspicions her father might have about her hasty wedding would be allayed by his basically romantic nature. Presented with a fait accompli, there was nothing Lucky, or anyone else, could do but wish them luck.
All in all, it was the only logical solution.
SAM MANAGED to grab her gynecologist’s second appointment of the morning, and by ten-thirty she and Duncan had confirmation of her pregnancy and of her general good health. The office manager tried to set up a series of prenatal appointments, but Sam said she needed to consult her schedule before she could commit to specific dates. She could just imagine their surprise when she asked them to send her records to Scotland.
“With any luck, it’ll be a Christmas baby,” Duncan said as they left the office.
She met his eyes. “I know.” A silly smile spread across her face. “Can you believe it?”
From there they went to meet with Sam’s lawyer, who had Duncan’s attorney on the speakerphone.
Unfortunately neither man agreed with the wisdom of Sam and Duncan’s plan. Both men had endless reasons the marriage was destined for failure, but Sam and Duncan weren’t listening. The baby was all that was important. If they could create a stable family life for their child, all of this endless bickering would have been worth it.
It took a few hours but at last a final draft of their prenuptial agreement was hammered out and presented to Sam and Duncan for their signatures.
Sam found herself strangely depressed as she looked at the pages of legalese that represented the rest of her life. She wasn’t a romantic like her father. You wouldn’t think the flat statement of terms would hit her so hard but it did. She took the pen from her attorney and signed her name in quadruplicate and tried very hard not to think of her sister Martie’s radiant face as she took her wedding vows.
Duncan felt detached from the proceedings. His first wedding had been born of hopes and dreams. It had ended up in despair. Maybe this way was better. Samantha saw their marriage as a business arrangement and nothing more. One look at her face, so cool and lovely and distant, and he knew he couldn’t delude himself into believing she felt anything at all for him. The glorious woman he’d made love to had been replaced by a stranger. He had traveled from Scotland to Texas to find her and now that he had, he wasn’t certain if life hadn’t once again managed to turn happiness into a cruel joke.
Las Vegas, that evening
THE HAPPY CHAPEL of Wedded Bliss was located on the Strip, half a block from the Mirage Hotel. Sam and Duncan sat quietly in the waiting room while the dulcet tones of Wayne Newton singing “Hawaiian Wedding Song” filled the air.
Sam tried very hard not to notice the Elvis impersonator who was strutting his stuff to the amusement of the other couples awaiting their turn to enter the Love Room. The Love Room, they’d been informed, was where the actual wedding ceremonies took place. “Tastefully decorated in flocked velvet wallpaper and plush carpeting,” the brochure proclaimed. “Why settle for second best?” As far as Sam was concerned, the only thing missing was a framed portrait of the poker-playing dogs.
Duncan had had little to say since they left Houston. It was late afternoon by the time they’d finished at the attorney’s office, which left Sam only a few hours to tie up loose ends and pack for her new life. She’d purchased the condo furnished and had had neither the time nor the inclination to add her own personal touches.
For as long as she could remember, work had been her life. Home was the place she went to when the office was closed. Once they announced their elopement, she would get on the telephone with her assistant and arrange to have her files shipped to Glenraven. Duncan had listened to her as she outlined her plans then asked about who would ship her clothes. “Ship them?” She’d laughed out loud at the thought. “I can get everything I own in two suitcases.”
The two suitcases were already checked through at the airport for their flight to London.
Next to her, Duncan shifted position and glanced at the clock.
“We still have time,” Sam said. “Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours.”
One of the Happy Chapel’s cheerful assistants bounded over to them. The name Lisa was embroidered on the breast pocket of her hot pink blazer. “Now you two are the Wilde-Stewart wedding, right?”
“Aye,” said Duncan, looking as if he wished he were any place but where he was.
“Ooh,” said the assistant. “An accent! Are you Irish?”
Duncan’s scowl deepened and Sam jumped in. “He’s from Scotland,” she said quickly. “Can you tell us how
