The Silver Bride

Pining for Dior had killed Stella's appetite, but she kept that demeaning truth to herself. 'You are planning to continue with this pregnancy?' Hearing the edge of concern in that query, Stella nodded in immediate agreement, but she still didn't lookup. She had honestly believed that she was prepared for the news that she was pregnant.

Now she was discovering that she hadn't been prepared. She felt shocked and very scared of the future. 'Excellent,' Maxwell Murphy pronounced approvingly. Ten minutes after that, Stella stood in the empty waiting room and took several deep breaths to calm herself. From the window, she could see the roof of Dior's Ferrari.

As she emerged onto the street, Dior climbed out and strode around the bonnet. His dark, deep-set gaze instantly locked to her pale, strained face. Stella stared back at him. 'So we celebrate,' Dior announced, pulling open the passenger door and tucking her back inside his car with hands that brooked no argument.

'Can't you just for once say something honestly?' Stella condemned in a tight, taut undertone. Dior leaned in to fix her seatbelt for her. 'We're going to be parents. I feel that the conception of my first child is a very special event. If you have nothing positive to say right now, keep quiet.' A ragged laugh was dredged from Stella. Dior swung in beside her and immediately fired the engine into a throaty roar. Stella worried at her lower lip.

'How do you feel?' she whispered. 'Shattered...kind of smug...sentimental,' Dior enumerated with husky sibilance, closing his hand over her clenched fingers as they waited at traffic lights. Her tense fingers loosened beneath the enveloping warmth of his. 'I just feel all shook up.' 'You look very tired. I'll take you back to the apartment and you can sleep.'

'No, I promised Watson that I'd come in as soon as possible... anyway, I need a change of clothes,' she muttered uncertainly. As the lights changed, Dior released her hand. 'I'd prefer you to remain in the apartment. I have to fly over to Paris this afternoon,' he imparted rather grimly. 'I doubt if I'll make it back before tomorrow evening.' Dismayed by that unexpected news, Stella stole an anxious glance at him from below her lashes. His lean, hard profile was taut.

But then he had frankly admitted that he was shattered, and he was distinctly pale beneath his Mediterranean dark skin. If she was in shock at the idea of having a baby, why shouldn't he be in shock too? 'I think I'd be more comfortable at home,' she said more firmly. 'When you're my wife, I'll expect you to do exactly as you're told at all times,' Dior whispered without any expression at all.

A stark little silence fell. Stella's eyes had widened to their fullest extent. She couldn't believe that he had said what he had just said. 'Most especially when I am considering your welfare,' he added gently. Stella shivered and compressed her bloodless lips.

'You're not seriously asking me to...marry you?' 'Very seriously,' Dior asserted. 'But we hardly know each other—' 'We know enough. I like it. I respect you. I d.e.s.i.r.e you. What more is there?' 'What about...love?' she prompted, striving for a detached tone. 'What about our child?' Stella lost color.

'I want to marry you,' Dior told her with quiet emphasis. 'Not necessarily, you don't. People don't get married these days just because of an accidental pregnancy,' Stella protested unsteadily, her heart beating very fast.

'People like me do.' Stella swallowed hard. 'Dior, I—' 'You know it makes sense.' 'Yes, but—' 'We'll get married as soon as I can arrange it,' Dior incised with finality. 'I'll think about it,' she returned unevenly. Dior shot the Ferrari to a halt in front of the bookshop.

Unsnapping her seatbelt, he reached for her, hazel green eyes glittering. 'You should be ashamed of yourself, Yinka Mou,' he told her. 'Just think about it? Yet only last night you couldn't wait to—'

'Dior!' Stella gasped, with a sound between an embarrassed laugh and a shaken reproach. 'So either you're a wanton hussy who shamelessly used me for s.e.x...or a decent woman with a delightful inability to resist me.'

Stella went pink, but she was wholly mesmerized by his proximity. Involuntarily, she raised a hand, and with her forefinger traced the surprisingly forbidding curve of his wide, sensual mouth. 'I can't...you know it too,' she acknowledged, utterly desperate for him to kiss her.

But, in spite of their proximity, Dior held back. 'I'll call you tomorrow.' As he freed her again, Stella blinked in a daze. Dior wanted to marry her? Dior was willing to marry her, she rephrased.

'I can't let you marry me!' she said abruptly. 'I won't marry an argumentative woman.' 'Don't tease about something so serious,' she pleaded. His strong bone structure set hard. 'You and I...it would work,' Dior intoned, his accent thickening.