Free Daniel's Bride by Joanne Hill Page B

questioning glance as if to say,
Are you ready?
    No. But she was as ready as she’d ever be. She slowly
nodded her head at him, and he turned to the celebrant and gave the go ahead.
     
     
    Sixty seconds later, they were husband and wife.
    “I present to you, Mr and Mrs Daniel Christie,” the
celebrant announced, and Hugh and Claire clapped with enthusiasm. “You may kiss
the bride.”
    Heck. She’d forgotten about that. She’d had trouble getting
the kiss that sealed this whole scenario out of her mind.
    She turned to Daniel, about to say, a peck on the cheek will
be fine. Instead he looked down at her, and a smile curled at the corner of his
mouth.
    She frowned. He gripped her shoulders gently, pulled her
close, and bent to brush his lips over hers.
    Again, she was struck with shock. His lips were warm, not
too full, smooth and soft, yet with a degree of harshness that denoted,
strangely, possession. That was different.
    He pulled slowly away, and she stared into his steel blue
eyes. She swallowed. “I…” Her voice was a croak.
    His hands dropped from her shoulders.
    “Mrs Christie,” he said in a smooth voice, the epitome of
control. “Welcome to the family.”
     
     
    The wedding breakfast was a feast. Oysters, champagne and
even, of all things, a wedding cake.
    Mel stared at the cake, and for the first time since she’d
walked into Daniel’s apartment, regret pooled in her stomach so fast it hurt.
    It’s only a damned cake. She blinked back tears. But it was
more than that. Hugh ordered Daniel to stand next to her, and produced a bone
handled knife.
    “Daniel, hand on the knife,” he instructed. “Mel, lay your
hand across Daniel’s.”
    Mel put her hand over Daniel’s, his rough skin beneath her
smooth palm. Two hands, one cake.
    Who’s bright idea was it to have a full on wedding cake for
a party of four? As if it were rubbing it in that this wasn’t a real wedding,
that they weren’t a real couple, a man and woman in love; that there’d be no
point saving part of it for the first year anniversary because there wasn’t
going to be a first year anniversary. They could have just gotten married in a
registry office, but Daniel had said they needed a decent tale to tell his
grandfather. A tale with details like food and flowers and a venue.
    “Smile,” Claire said, and Mel shot Daniel a quick glance,
but he was focused on Hugh and the camera, his mouth stretched tight.
    “For Pete’s sake, smile. Both of you,” Hugh ordered again.
She stretched her mouth in to something she hoped resembled the smile of a
woman in love. Alongside her, Daniel tensed. She didn’t have the nerve to see
if he’d made it past the grimace stage.
    Hugh checked the photo on his digital camera, gave them the
thumbs up, and Mel removed her hand from Daniel’s.
    “That was over the top,” she said briskly. “Especially
considering no one much will ever see the photo.”
    Daniel suddenly reached around and cupped her chin. He
forced her to look straight into his eyes, the shades of blue grayer than they
were before. “My grandfather will see it. Marriage is important to him, a
wedding is important. He understands why he can’t be here.”
    “So he knows we’re getting married today?”
    Something flared in his gaze. “Of course. Did you think I
was going to bowl up to him with a new wife he knew nothing about?”
    That was exactly what she had thought.   
    Daniel dropped his hand, his expression closed. “Every
wedding should have photos.”
    Mel blinked as her chest tightened. Even if it was fake.
     
     
    They flew back down to Sydney in the private jet. Mel
selected a classical music channel, adjusted her headphones, flicked through
the copies of Vanity Fair and Cosmopolitan, and glanced frequently across at
Daniel. Her groom. Her husband.
    He and Hugh were in deep discussion and she found herself
entranced by the play of movement on Daniel’s face. His forehead frowned in
concentration, eyes narrowed