It was expected and he didn’t want to add to Lily’s stress by keeping her on display any longer than necessary. But when his mouth touched hers, he lingered. Only for a moment, but long enough for the taste of her to fill his head, long enough for his pulse to begin beating like a jackhammer, long enough for him to remember why they’d found themselves standing before a minister exchanging vows in the first place.
And judging by the look in Lily’s eyes, she was remembering, too.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Reverend Lawrence said. “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. John Ryan Cartwright.”
It was done, Jack told himself as he and Lily turned to face the applauding guests. He and Lily were now man and wife. The pianist hit the keys again, and as the joyful tune rang out, he placed Lily’s hand on his arm and led her down the aisle.
An hour later, Jack decided he’d had enough. From the look on Lily’s face, she had, too. “Excuse me,” he told his longtime friend and fellow attorney Dan Granger. “I’d better go rescue Lily before my mother ropes her into joining her bridge club.”
“Sure, go ahead,” Dan told him. “But, Jack, I hope you won’t be too quick to rule out the senate race. With Carlton’s group behind you, you’d have a good shot at claiming that seat. And we could certainly use someone like you on Capitol Hill.”
“I appreciate that, Dan. But right now, my focus is on my new wife and our family,” he explained. While he hadn’t ruled out a run for office, after speaking with his father, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put Lily through the ordeal. He had absolutely no qualms or reservations about Lily’s unplanned pregnancy and their marriage. Nor did he feel anything but pride for where she came from and what she had made of herself. He knew from her comments that her lack of family and knowledge about her heritage bothered her.
“I understand. I shouldn’t have even bothered you about this on your wedding day. We’ll talk about it in a week or two. And congratulations again on your marriage.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, and, after shaking Dan’s hand, he headed across the patio to where Lily was standing with his mother and two women he recognized as part of her bridge group.
“Jack, darling,” his mother said and beamed as he joined them. “You remember Louise and Pamela from my bridge group, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a bow of his head.
“I was just telling your mother what a beautiful bride you have,” the ash-blond Pamela told him.
“Thank you. I happen to think she’s beautiful, too,” Jack said and he stared directly at Lily. He didn’t miss the rush of color to her cheeks. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to steal my wife away for a few minutes.”
He reached for Lily’s hand and as he was hustling her away, he spied his great-aunt Olivia Cartwright heading toward them. “Aunt Olivia at two o’clock. Come on,” he said and led her out to the center of the floor.
“Jack, what are you doing?” she asked as he took her in his arms and spun her around the stone patio floor in time to the music.
“Dancing with my wife.”
“But why?”
“Because my great-aunt Olivia considers herself the authority on everything from business to marriage to giving birth. Trust me, you don’t want her to start offering us advice.”
“Oh,” she said. “Did you say she was your great-aunt?”
“Yes. My grandmother’s older sister.” Grateful that the band was playing a slow tune, he held Lily close. It reminded him of the night at the ball when he’d held her in his arms for the first time. Just as on that night she felt soft and silky and as elusive as moonlight. He breathed in her scent, the hint of roses and sunshine and some mysterious scent that was hers alone. She fitted him perfectly and he was keenly aware of the weight of her breasts against his chest, the way her dress swished against his pant legs as they moved their feet in harmony. He was also aware of the roundness of her abdomen pressing against him.
“You have a lot of relatives,” she said, her breath whispering against his ear and causing that rapid beat in his pulse again. “What’s it like being a part of a big family?”
“Annoying,” he told her and tried to shake off his sexual feelings. The last thing Lily needed right now was for him to start making marital demands on her. Besides the fact that she was pregnant, she had had her entire life turned upside down. Now that she was a Cartwright her life would never be the same again. Right or wrong, the name Cartwright meant money and power. And while giving his name to her and their child would provide security and protection, it would also subject her to the curiosity, rumors and often the envy of others. Some of it had already started. He’d had a flurry of calls from friends, business acquaintances, members of the country club and even former girlfriends when the news had broken of his impending marriage. He didn’t doubt that the gossip mill was working overtime with the scandal of Lily’s pregnancy and their marriage. Of course, without Bunny Baldwin and her Social Diary to feed the frenzy, it might lose steam quickly. At least he hoped it would. Until then, he intended to shield Lily from it as much as he could.
Easing back, she looked at him. “I’d have thought it would be wonderful to have so many people related to you. You’d never be alone. There would always be someone to share the holidays with, to spend special moments with.”
He knew that Lily had spent most of her holidays alone, the outsider watching foster families celebrating. There was a part of him that ached for the lonely girl she must have been. He couldn’t go back and wipe away those unhappy memories, but he promised himself that he would make happy memories for her in the future. “I guess it is pretty nice most of the time—except at times like today when those well-meaning family members, like my mother, insist on getting in your business and hosting receptions like this one so that she can show us off.”
“It’s not that bad,” she told him.
“Shh. Don’t let her hear you say that or she’ll never let us out of here.” Lily smiled and it was the first real smile he’d seen from her all afternoon. Drawing her close, he moved her into a slow spin.
“We’re being watched,” she told him.
“Ignore them,” he said, not wanting to allow anyone to intrude upon the moment. It was the first time she’d come close to relaxing with him since they’d agreed to get married.
“That might be kind of hard to do. Your aunt Olivia is waving a napkin at us. I think she wants us to come over to her.”
“She’s our aunt Olivia now,” he informed her. He had indeed seen Aunt Olivia motioning them over. She’d been hard to miss since she was the only eighty-five-year-old woman with Lucille Ball red hair holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cane in the other. “You do realize that now that you’re a Cartwright, all these annoyingly wonderful relatives are yours now, too—including Aunt Olivia.”
“Um, Jack. I think our aunt Olivia is getting impatient.”
Jack glanced over to where his great-aunt had just slapped her glass down on a table and was insisting the young waiter help her to her feet. “We’d better go see what she wants.”
What she wanted was to give them both a lecture on what was necessary to make a marriage work. Since Aunt Olivia’s own marriage had spanned sixty years until the death of Uncle Charlie, she considered herself an authority on the subject. She’d lectured them on the importance of being good to one another, of respecting one another and of sharing the responsibility for raising the kids. She’d told them not to make the mistake of taking each other for granted. She also told them that they needed to make time for one another and to listen to what the other one had to say.
“You young people are big on the term communication. Well, communication is one of the keys to a good marriage. And that communication needs to start in the bedroom,”