The Silver Bride

'You could have been a real agent provocateur in the maintenance department.' His brilliant dark eyes roamed over her and glittered with dėsɨrė and boundless satisfaction. 'It's far safer keeping you in my bed.' 'I've got to admit the family cave's pretty comfortable,' Stella sighed happily, sparing her impressive surroundings a look of approval.

And, with a husky laugh of appreciation, Dior kissed her breathless and proceeded to demonstrate the fringe benefits of sharing that family cave. Stella tucked her infant son, Aaron, back into his exquisite cradle. At four months old, Aaron was just adorable.

He had hair the color of silver-gilt and dark, dark eyes—an arresting combination of his parental genes. When he was sound asleep, he looked like a little angel. The past twenty-four hours had been hectic, Stella acknowledged.

Dior had thrown a huge party in London to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. Then they had flown out to the island and spent the day entertaining Dior's relatives, who had now all either gone to bed or traveled home again.

A whole year. Stella could still hardly credit that she had been married to Dior for that long. And the magic had not only lasted but got stronger, she reflected, with glowing eyes and the slow, steady smile of a contented woman. Working conditions in the maintenance department of Harlequin International were now as good as they could get.

Dior had never quite recovered from the sight of Stella plugging in that floor-polisher and then fainting dead away. Stella had had no trouble convincing him that the cleaning staff deserved more generous remuneration for their rarely appreciated efforts.

Stella returned to their bedroom to slide into a very sėxy confection of gold satin, a special order fashioned along the lines of a flamenco dress.

Aria looked positively triumphant. However, it was rumored that the non-attendance of the groom's powerful family signified their outrage at his choice of bride.

On their terms, it seemed that Aria was just not acceptable. Her family tree only went back a couple of generations, while theirs went back several centuries. But, studying the photo of the bridal couple, Stella reckoned it would be a successful marriage.

Aria 's husband looked like Arctic Man, bis cold silver-blue eyes, tight mouth, and rigid carriage. Slinging the magazine aside with a smile, Stella lit all the candles and switched off the lights. Then she began to dance to the music she had put on to accompany her display.

This was her private anniversary present to Dior. She loved to surprise him. And when she caught the door opening out of the corner of her eye, she had to work hard not to be drawn into looking directly at him.

When the music rose to a savage crescendo and ended, then she looked, and just burned beneath the sheer, glittering hunger and appreciation in Dior's stunning eyes. 'You are just so easily impressed!' she teased.

Dior hauled her into his arms just like a caveman. She was shivering with excitement. Sensual anticipation ran like fire through her veins, leaving her weak as he slowly crushed her into the hard, muscular heat of his big powerful body.

'So we're back where we started—' 'Plus Aaron.' 'I never forget our son for a single moment...or the very beautiful, very sėxy and wonderful woman who gave him to me,' Dior intoned with impressive intensity. 'I think I love you even more now than I did a year ago.' Stella closed her arms around him tightly. 'You make me so happy.'

'That's what I'm here for...' Somewhat distracted by his need to seal his mouth hotly to hers while at the same time backing towards the bedroom, Dior finally contrived the feat and got them both as far as the bed.

'And to give you this...before you dare to suggest that I rushed down here in the most uncool manner imaginable just because I could not wait to go to bed with you!' Stella gazed down at the exquisite diamond eternity ring he was now sliding onto her finger and she just melted back into him. 'Oh, Dior...it's gorgeous.'

'It's engraved with the date we first met.' 'Gosh, you're getting so romantic!' Stella sighed. Dior looked exceedingly smug. 'You may have set up the candles and the note, but I brought the champagne and had a rose put on the pillow.'

Stella's eyes widened and her face fell. 'You mean my note wasn't a surprise?' Dior winced, registering the error of one-upmanship.

A slow, misty smile curved Stella's generous mouth and she pushed Dior gently back against the pillows.

'I just love you to death when you drop yourself in a big tactless hole,' she told him helplessly. 'I don't quite follow that.' Dior surveyed her with adoring eyes that had a definite hint of bemused relief. Stella arranged herself sinuously around him, knowing he didn't understand.

But that anxious look he had worn when he had feared that he had hurt her feelings just turned her heart inside out. 'Great minds think alike,' she whispered soothingly. 'You are just amazing...'.

Dior curved her so close she could hardly breathe. But then, at the moment, breathing was not half as important as the urgent need to seal their love in the most intimate way of all.

Stella meant to tell him just how amazing he was as well. But the electrifying combination of passion and joyous happiness now unleashed ensured that she didn't tell him until the following morning.

HAPPY ENDING