The Silver Bride

Time would take care of that problem. She couldn't see that he would be meeting up with Aria Bailey very much in the future, and she was too practical to make a running battle of that issue in the short term. A new marriage was a fragile thing.

Wouldn't it be foolish to make the beautiful Greek woman a bone of contention? A few hours later, in the luxurious room set aside for her use, Stella removed her wedding gown with rueful regret and put on the traveling outfit she had purchased.

A loden-hazel green suit, its fitted jacket adorned with snazzy gold buttons and teamed with a fashionable short skirt. It had cost the earth and she had picked it with great care. But the more m.a.t.u.r.e appearance she had initially attempted to strike hadn't come off. That kind of clothes didn't look right on her yet.

She was twenty-one and she didn't look older than her years. When she returned to the crush of guests awaiting their departure for the airport, she was rewarded by the appreciative gleam that awakened in Dior's expressive eyes the instant I saw her. Her rather anxious smile became downright sunny.

'You look about eighteen. I should be hung,' Dior g.r.o.a.n.e.d, but he curved a wonderfully possessive arm around her small thin figure. 'Go on, throw your bouquet' 'No, I want to keep it.' 'I thought it was a tradition.' 'No, I'm having mine preserved and framed...or something,' Stella told him stubbornly.

The number of people wishing to exchange last words with Dior briefly forced them apart. Stella watched Dior laughing at some Chloe, and something akin to pure joy blossomed within her. He did look happy and relaxed, just as a new husband should look. And then, from behind her, a cool smooth voice remarked, 'I pity you, Stella.

Playing the whore between Dior's sheets won't hold him for long. And you don't have anything else to offer him, do you?' In shock, Stella froze, and then she spun around with a jerk. But Aria Bailey had already moved on to chat to an older couple some distance from her.

However, Chloe Murphy was standing only a foot away, her mouth wide, her eyes almost as appalled as Stella's. 'I was just hurrying over to speak to you before you left. Did I just hear what I thought I heard?' she demanded in an incredulous whisper.

'My goodness, I never thought that cold fish had it in her to be that spiteful!' That surprising comment dredged a nervous giggle from Stella. 'Now you know.' 'Go and tell Dior right this minute,' Chloe urged her keenly.

'No, I'll handle it myself...' Stella said awkwardly, mortified color now banishing her previous pallor. 'I did kind of steal her man, so, well...I can't blame her for hating me.' Chloe Murphy frowned. 'Her man? They weren't even dating, never mind engaged.

Surely you don't believe she's been sitting home just waiting for Dior to pop the question! If a richer, more powerful prospect had come along, she'd have married him years ago!' Stella felt uneasy. She liked Chloe, but, although it was comforting to be told such things, she didn't want to discuss Aria with anyone.

'Honestly!' Chloe was into full swing now, venting what were pretty personal feelings about the other woman. 'Aria 's all sweetness and light around Dior. I'd just love him to know what she's like! Men can be so blind.' 'Yes,' Stella agreed, frantically trying to think of a change of subject. 'He's had a narrow escape.

She's the original ice queen and the most awful snob. Nat and I just aren't good enough to share the same room with her!' Chloe shared feelingly.

'Who aren't you and Nat good enough to share the same room with?' Dior enquired with amus.e.m.e.nt. He closed a powerful arm around Stella as he spoke, only to glance down at his bride in surprise when she jumped in guilty dismay.

"What's wrong?' 'I'm feeling a bit dizzy,' Stella announced, and right then she genuinely was. Dizzy with apprehension. She was terrified that Chloe was about to name Aria and give Dior the impression that they had been enjoying a mutual muck-raking session. But a split-second later she saw that she needn't have worried.

Poor, outspoken Chloe was hotly embarrassed by Dior's untimely interruption. And, as a distraction, Stella's plea of dizziness worked a treat. Dior assisted her into the limousine as if she was an elderly lady of at least a hundred and one.

Then he climbed back out again to stride over to Chloe 's husband, Maxwell. From her stance a few feet from the car, Chloe made the most comical grimace of relief. She pretended to mop her brow, evidently as aware as Stella of Dior's high opinion of Aria and grateful not to have caused offense. Dior swung into the limousine beside Stella.

"The moment the jet's airborne, you're going to rest,' he informed her with determination, fresh from what appeared to have been an urgent consultation with Maxwell in his professional capacity.

'But I'm OK!' Stella protested in dismay. 'I should never have invited so many people. It's been a hell of a demanding day for you... and I know it sounds crass but I keep on forgetting that you're a pregnant lady!' Dior told her apologetically. No news could have pleased Stella more. Only by the time she heard it, it was too late.

There she was, longing to be passionately kissed, and Dior was behaving as if she had turned into some kind of invalid.

When she argued, he simply assumed that she was striving not to be a sickly wet blanket. He then told her off for trying to take such an attitude with him and pointed out that she had to accept the need to take extra care of herself now.