Sudden Pleasures

Chapter 5

Angelina Mulcahy stepped out of the Lincoln Town Car and looked about her. It was a beautiful hot August day, and a silvery haze hung over the bay below, which was dotted with several small sailboats. She turned to face the portico, and smiled as Frankie and Ashley came from the house to greet her. She kissed both women on their cheeks. "It's lovely," she said to Ashley. "What a beautiful house, cara ."

"Wait till you see the inside, Ma," Frankie said. "It's right up Ryan's alley, and the antiques are real. Been in the family for centuries, Ashley says."

"Francesca! Do not be so common," her mother chided her.

Ashley laughed. "Don't scold her, Lina. Like Ryan, she appreciates what my family has collected over the years. Come in."

The three women entered the house, and as it was only ten o'clock Ashley led them out on the porch for coffee, small cups of freshly made raspberry yogurt, and miniature Danish pastries that Mrs. B. had baked earlier. Seeing the gracious display Angelina raised an approving eyebrow, and Frankie winked conspiratorially at Ashley. After they had eaten, Ashley suggested a tour of the house.

"You'll want to see where Ryan will be making his home, of course," she said as she led her guests from the porch. "Frankie has been all over the place this week, but as you will soon be my family, I wanted you to see the house before our wedding."

Although she was impressed by everything she saw, Angelina Mulcahy's handsome face remained a smooth, emotionless mirror barely reflecting her thoughts. The house was exquisite. The living room was large and gracious, with an elegant mantel above the fireplace. The formal dining room was something splendid, with its great Duncan Phyfe dining table and chairs with their beige-and-dark-green-striped satin seats. In the center of the table was a huge porcelain bowl filled with an arrangement of multicolored dahlias. The sideboard was balanced at either end with silver chargers, and a silver punch bowl and ladle was set in the center. There was a fireplace in the dining room as well.

Angelina admired the paneled library with its fireplace. "How many fireplaces do you have in this house?" she asked her hostess.

Ashley thought a moment. "Twelve, I believe. The bedrooms all have one, and the kitchen downstairs has one."

Living room, dining room, library, kitchen, Angelina thought silently. That means there must be eight bedrooms. It's a house for a family. A nice big family. She followed her hostess upstairs, where she was shown the new master suite, with its parlor, bedroom, two bathrooms, and two large walk-in closets. She was astounded by the size of it all, thinking of the small bedroom she and Finbar had slept in for much of their marriage.

"Well, whaddaya think, Ma?" Frankie said. "Have I done a good job?"

"It's amazing," Angelina replied, unable to keep the approval out of her voice.

They entered from the upstairs corridor into the parlor, which was painted pale green above its chair rail, and a dark cypress green below. The walls held several very good paintings-landscapes, and two obviously original ancestor portraits in muted gold frames. The carpeting was a pale cream color. A maple secretary stood in one corner, the wavy glass in its door attesting to its vast age. There was a couch upholstered in dark green duck cloth with several decorative pillows, and two comfortable club chairs that were upholstered in a large floral rose pattern, muted green on a cream background. There were small antique side tables, and several lovely lamps.

"Wait until you see the bedroom," Frankie enthused. "I got the bed from Ryan's place. It's a repro of a sixteenth-century English piece with an eight-foot linen fold-paneling headboard. Solid oak. Ashley's granddad lived in this room until he died several years ago. Strangely his bed was the only nonantique in here, and we sent it off to Habitat's store in the next town." She led the way into the bedroom. "Well?" she said, grinning.

"The bed is a bit overwhelming at first," Ashley said, "but the room can take it."

Angelina looked at the bed with its turned pillars at the foot and its dark green velvet bed hangings. The room was papered in a cream silk paper with delicate green ferns. There was a wonderful sixteenth-century chest-on-chest, and a seventeenth-century bureau with an exquisite mirror over it, among the other furnishings. "Just think," Angelina said softly, "you will create your children in that bed. Dynasties come from such beds."

"Look at the bathrooms, Ma," Frankie said, pulling her mother in another direction. "I've papered Ryan's in ducks on a taupe background. Real guy paper. And Ash's is pale pink lilies with green leaves on cream. Aren't they pretty?"

Angelina looked, and then moved on to see the other bedrooms, smiling when Ashley said, "You may pick whichever one you like best for your room when you visit, Lina. I hope you'll come often. They all have their own bathrooms. Byrnes will always be glad to pick you up and take you home again."

They returned downstairs and sat again on the porch as they waited for luncheon to be announced. A gentle breeze eased the heat of midday.

"Such a beautiful home," Angelina said. "And all those bedrooms for the children that you and Ryan, God willing, will have. Tell me, cara , why aren't you being married in church? You are of different faiths, I know, but certainly Ryan has explained that you must be married in the church, and the priest will have explained to you that the children must be baptized Catholic."

"Roman Catholic," Ashley corrected her. "Angelina, this is really something that Ryan should have told you, but like most men he is obviously not about to broach an unpleasant subject with his mother. This is not an arranged marriage we are contracting. It is a marriage of convenience. Both Ryan and I are faced with the possibility of losing our individual inheritances unless we are married by a certain age. That's the only reason we are getting married. We have both signed prenuptial agreements, and a separate agreement spelling out how we will conduct ourselves during our marriage.

"We are not getting married in church, or by a priest of either your denomination or mine, because the marriage will last only two years. If either of us should fall in love one day we want to be free to start fresh not just legally, but spiritually. I'm sorry that Ryan did not explain this to you. I don't know if he was embarrassed or afraid. I hope you will forgive him, and I hope you will forgive me," Ashley concluded.

"How will you be married then?" Angelina wanted to know. She had grown pale.

"Judge Palmer will marry us. It will be a civil ceremony- quite legal in this or any other state," Ashley explained. "Ryan's inheritance and mine will then be secured."

"That such a thing should be," Angelina said. "I can't come."

"Ma!" Frankie exclaimed. "Don't be so damned dramatic. What do you mean, you can't come? It's Ryan's wedding."

"It's a business arrangement," Angelina said, "and no true marriage. How can I approve such a thing, Francesca? Tell me how I can salve my conscience?"

"Enough with the religious fervor," Frankie said. "You know damned well that Dad wouldn't have had a twentieth of what he left if it hadn't been for Ryan. He could have gone to Wall Street and made a fortune, but instead he made Dad a multimillionaire. And Dad saw that you were lavishly provided for, and all his daughters given generous cash inheritances, but he couldn't die without dictating to Ryan from beyond the grave, could he? Ryan had to get married. Had to carry on the grand Mulcahy name or he would lose everything. Well, it stinks, Ma.

"You're the one who said to me that we couldn't let the others take R &R away from Ryan. You're the one who went to Ray Pietro d'Angelo and told him to find Ryan a wife. Well, he did, and now you aren't satisfied because it won't be a real marriage. What do you want, Ma? You want my sisters to sell Ryan's business-yes, damn it, Ryan's business-to Jerry Klein? Sure, Jerry wants the R &R name and reputation, but he'll run it into the ground for a tax loss as quick as he can. That's what you want because Ryan and Ashley won't get married in the church and have a real marriage?"

"I want my son to have what your father and I had," Angelina said.

"And what the hell was that?" her daughter demanded.

"Frankie, please, your mom is upset, and I can understand." Ashley tried to mediate between the two.

"Your father and I were married in the church, the way people should be," Angelina said. "We had a real marriage with children, not a business arrangement. I wanted Ray to find a nice girl from the old country. Italy or Ireland."

"Wake up, Ma! There are no nice girls from the old country. It's one great big rock-and-roll, drugged-out, money-is-God world now. Ray found your son the perfect match. For God's sake, be satisfied and accept what's happening. You don't come to the wedding and my sisters are sure as hell going to attempt legal action to get their hands on Ryan's business by yelling fraud. You really want that, Ma?"

But before Angelina could answer her daughter, Ashley spoke up. "Lina, look, I wouldn't tell Ryan this for fear of scaring him, but I really like your son. I am very attracted to him, and I think that just maybe he might like me too. I've never really had a lot of luck picking my own men, but I didn't find Ryan all by myself, did I? No. Ray and Joe Pietro d'Angelo got us together. And so far, so good. We're approaching this marriage of convenience cautiously, and the honest truth is that each of us wants an out just in case it doesn't work for us on a personal level. But I think it might, and Frankie, if you say one word to your brother I will know it, and I swear I will kill you! Yes, we're putting the cart before the horse by getting married before we know each other. But didn't you and your husband do that too? Your priest put you together, and you didn't question it. You got married and made a go of it. Actually, I'm in a much better position than Ryan. I don't turn thirty-five for almost a year and a half. I have time. But Ryan is forty in seven months. He doesn't have time to look for the right girl. Even if you sent to Italy or Ireland for a bride you couldn't get her here in time, with all the immigration fuss and getting her papers. And wouldn't that give your other daughters more of an opening to go after Ryan legally? They would say he was marrying a girl like that just to protect his inheritance. True, his father's will didn't make any conditions for his marrying. It just said he had to be married by forty. They actually don't have a leg to stand on, Lina, but they would still try. But when he marries me they can't say anything, no matter what they may think, because they won't know this is a marriage of convenience."

Angelina Mulcahy was silent for a long few moments. And then she said, "You like him, cara ?”

"Yes, I do," Ashley said, and she felt her cheeks growing warm. "He's smart, and he's funny, and he can make me blush."

"And he tried to get her into bed, Ma, but she told him not until they are married," Frankie put in with a mischievous grin.

Angelina nodded slowly. "He likes her," she said.

"More than I think he realizes, Ma," Frankie responded. "You know, with Ryan the business is everything. And Ashley is probably the only woman in the world who can understand that, understand him. It really is a match made in heaven, even if it isn't celebrated in the church."

"Please come to the wedding, Lina," Ashley said.

"I'll come," Angelina Mulcahy said, "but only on one condition."

Ashley and Frankie looked to her anxiously.

"That when my stupido son realizes he loves you, you get married again by a priest in the church," she told her son's fiancée.

"Of course we will," Ashley said quickly. "I don't really remember my own mother, but I know she would have wanted the same thing of us, Lina. When Ryan decides we should make this a permanent arrangement then we will do this for ourselves, our children, and to make you happy."

"Luncheon is served," Byrnes said, stepping out onto the porch.

"Show Mrs. Mulcahy where she may freshen up, Byrnes," Ashley said. "Then join us back here for some food, Lina. It's a very light meal, but it's so lovely out here."

Byrnes led the older woman off.

Frankie turned to Ashley. "You handled Ma nicely, Ash."

"I meant what I said," Ashley told her. "If your brother decides he wants to make this marriage of convenience a permanent thing, then if it will make your mother happy I'll get the priest. In fact, I'll get two. I'll want my guy in on this also. And I want your mother's friendship, Frankie. I like her, and I like you."

By the time Angelina had returned to join them, Byrnes had set up a small table on the porch and covered it with an embroidered linen cloth. There were plates and glasses and silverware. And when he had seated the trio he offered them iced tea or lemonade, both of which had been freshly made.

"I'd do wine, but Frankie has to drive you back," Ashley said.

Each plate that Byrnes placed before the women held a small fresh fruit salad and a chicken salad sandwich on a little freshly baked soft roll. When they had finished the butler quickly cleared the plates, replacing each of them with another plate that held a slice of warm blueberry bread pudding with a mini scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream. Byrnes saw that the glasses were always filled during the course of the meal.

When they had finished Angelina Mulcahy said quietly as she laid her napkin aside, "You do not have to learn to cook, cara . Your Mrs. B. is a treasure."

Both Ashley and Frankie laughed aloud. And after another half hour her guests arose and prepared to leave. Byrnes had already stowed Frankie's luggage in the trunk of her Miata. Ashley thanked her soon-to-be sister-in-law for the beautiful decorating job she had done in the master suite. She kissed both Frankie and Angelina good-bye, and said she would look forward to seeing them at the wedding. Then she waved them off and reentered the house with a sigh.

Ashley felt bad that her future mother-in-law had misunderstood the situation. It had been different when Angelina and her sister had come from Italy after World War II. The world hadn't changed then. It was only just about to change. A marriage arranged by a priest was an acceptable thing, because girls were supposed to marry and have babies while their men went off to make a living to support those families. It had been a slower-paced life then. Not like now.

Ryan called her a few days later.

"I talked to Frankie. She told me what you did," he said.

"You should have explained it to Lina yourself," Ashley told him tartly.

"I know, I know," he admitted, "but I knew she was thinking it was just like her and Dad, and we both know it isn't going to be like that. Frankly I hoped to avoid the whole damned subject, and she'd never have to know. In two years, when we separated and she was sad, I'd remind her we weren't married in the church, which would mean I could start all over with the girl of my dreams, which would make her happy again."

"Well," Ashley said, "for now I'm the girl of your dreams, Ryan. You'd better get used to it, I guess. How's England? Did you get up to York yet?"

"I did, and damned if the guy doesn't have the original molds for the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century clock corners and other hardware. But he's retiring, so I bought them off of him. Now I've got to find someone who can do the casting with them back home. The sales haven't been that good so far, but I've got one outside of Worcester tomorrow that is rumored to have some excellent stuff, and another one in Herefordshire the next day before I head over to Gloucester, down to Devon, and then back to London."

"Sounds like you'll be busy until you fly back," Ashley said.

"Would it sound crazy if I said I missed you?" Ryan surprised her by saying suddenly. "And I miss Egret Pointe, much to my surprise."

"You sure it's me, or is it Mrs. B.'s cooking?" Ashley teased him.

He was silent a moment, as if considering her words, but then he said, "Nah, Ash, it's definitely you I miss. And, of course, the girls," he added.

She laughed. "You are so bad, but if the truth be known, the girls miss you too."

"I want to make love to you, Ashley," he said low.

"I know," she admitted.

"Are we going to make love?" he asked softly.

"Probably," she told him. "But not until after the wedding."

He chuckled. "I'm not going to disappear off the radar like the others," he said.

"Experience has taught me not to count on my bridegrooms," Ashley told him dryly. "Your sister has done us a gorgeous bedroom, by the way. The bed came from your shop, and it's incredible. It's got an eight-foot headboard."

"Bloody hell! The one with the linen fold paneling?" He didn't sound happy.

"Yes, why?"

"It was a special order for a client," he told her. Then he laughed. "But they're in Europe this summer, and I did say it wouldn't be ready until autumn. It will have to be late autumn. That headboard takes a long time to carve."

"I'm sorry," Ashley told him. "I didn't know."

"It's all right. Frankie does this to me once in a while. She comes into the workshops and plunders whatever takes her fancy," he explained.

"It's a hell of a bed," Ashley murmured. "We could have a lot of fun in it."

He laughed again. "I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it," Ryan said. "Are you blushing, Ash? I get this distinct feeling you're blushing."

"Smart-ass!" she replied. "How do you do it? No one else can make me blush."

"No one?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Maybe this marriage of convenience is going to be something else," he suggested. "Maybe it'll end up being more."

Ashley was very silent, then she said, "Now, don't go getting all romantic on me, Ryan. We're just getting to know each other, after all."

"We're going to know each other better in a few days," he said.

"You've got sex on the brain," she told him. "And it's the middle of the night in England. You need some sleep. Go to bed."

"So you do care," he teased her.

"Maybe a little," she allowed. "Good night, Ryan Mulcahy."

"Good night, Ashley Kimbrough. See you soon," he said, and then he rang off.

Four days, she thought as she set the phone back down. Four days and she would be a married woman. Everything was ready and waiting. The judge. The guests. The dinner menu. The flowers. And a wedding dress. She smiled. It wasn't really a wedding dress per se. She had been browsing at a small, upscale mall twenty miles from Egret Pointe. There was an elegant, more traditional little dress shop there that she occasionally shopped in, and in the window had been the perfect dress for her wedding. It was cream-colored silk chiffon with a flirty calf-length skirt, cap sleeves, and a draped boat neckline. She went in, tried it on, and bought it.

"Special party, Ms. Kimbrough?" the saleswoman asked with a smile.

"No," she lied. "I haven't anywhere to wear it yet, but I hope I will. It's just so pretty I can't resist it, and it is in my size, after all."

"It actually looks better on you than on some of the smaller girls," the saleswoman said. "Funny how some dresses look better on one person than on another, especially when they all look the same on a hanger. Cash or charge?"

Ashley took the dress home and showed it to Mrs. B. "What do you think?" she said. "I thought this time something simpler might be better than something more bridal and formal."

"It's perfect, my dearie," Mrs. B. said with a smile. "And it is a bit bridal, if you don't mind my saying it. I think it's the length. You'll look beautiful in it."

And then Ashley realized that she was nervous. Especially when, on the day before the wedding, Nina gave her a bag as they were closing up. "What's this?" she said.

"You haven't picked anything for your wedding night," Nina said. "So I picked it for you. I know-I know everything you've said about marriage of convenience, but I've seen you with Ryan. You're attracted to each other, and if you don't end up in bed tomorrow night you will one night soon. So wear this."

Ashley opened the bag and peered inside. She immediately recognized the nightgown Nina had chosen. It was simple: a lavender silk number with spaghetti straps, that clung to the wearer like a second skin. It would reveal every asset she possessed, and then some. "You've got a wicked mind, Nina," she said, closing the bag.

"It's perfect for you," Nina replied with a grin. "Now, you are not to come in tomorrow, Ashley. Let me remind you, late August is as dead as a doornail in town. I might get a few browsers and maybe a sale or two, but I will not be busy. I'll spend my day updating the stock on the computer, close up at three, and be up at the hall all polished and brushed in time for the wedding."

"If I don't come in, what am I supposed to do until four thirty?" Ashley asked her.

"If I know you-and I think I do-you'll spend your time checking three times over to make certain everything is okay, and it will be. You'll pace, and finally nap before taking a shower and getting ready for the wedding. Is Ryan back yet?"

Ashley looked at her watch. "He should be landing at Kennedy right about now. Let me go and check." She went over to the PC in her office and went immediately to the British Airways site for arrivals. "Yes, they got in right on time. Five minutes ago."

"Go home then. He'll be calling, and trust me-he's going to need reassurance right about now. Bridal nerves aren't just confined to brides," Nina told her.

Ashley got into her Solstice and drove home. She had no sooner gotten through the door when her cell began ringing. She flipped it open. "Ashley here," she said.

"I'm home," his voice said. "Rather, I'm in a car service car on my way into town. When should I come out tomorrow?"

"Do you want to come with your mother and Frankie?" she asked him. "The limo is picking them up at two. Your mother is staying with your sister tonight."

"Yeah, that's fine. Tell the limo to pick me up last, okay? I'll carry my suit and change when we get there, if that's okay."

"Be shaved and shorn by then," Ashley said. "Depending on the traffic, you're just going to get here a half hour or less before the judge does his thing."

"No problem. You nervous?"

"A little," she admitted. "You?"

"Yeah, a little. I guess I never figured this would happen, and it probably wouldn't have except for my father's damned will," Ryan told her. "I might be a confirmed bachelor. I've never been sure."

"Don't you want kids someday?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure," he told her.

"Then you can't be a confirmed bachelor, Ryan. And with your mother you'd have to have a wife if you expected her to accept your children," Ashley said. "Lina is a very conservative and traditional woman."

"How'd you get her to change her mind about coming to the wedding when she learned it was a business arrangement first?" he asked.

"I told her that if by chance this marriage of convenience turned out to be more than just convenient, we'd call in the priest and do it the way she would want," Ashley said. "Didn't Frankie tell you that?"

She actually heard him gulp. Then he said, "No. Frankie just said you were wonderful with Ma, and eased her around her distress after you told her the truth. She said Ma really likes you, and let you sweet-talk her," Ryan answered.

Ashley laughed. "What I did was soothe your mother's conscience. She's a good woman, Ryan. I'm sorry we're disappointing her."

"Maybe we won't disappoint her in the end," he suggested softly. "Maybe before the two years are up we will call in the priest, Ash."

"Maybe we will," she allowed, her heart beating just a little faster at his words. Did he really like her enough already to be considering a real marriage? "Get some rest before tomorrow," Ashley said. "It's going to be a big day."

"I'm hoping for a big night," he said.

"You're waggling your eyebrows, aren't you?" she countered.

He laughed. "How can you tell?"

"You always waggle your eyebrows when you make suggestive remarks," she told him. "It makes me laugh, because it makes you look so naughty."

He grinned. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ash. Dream of me, okay?"

Dream of him? She almost laughed aloud. Her noble tribune husband on the Channel looked just like him. That was some dreaming, she thought. She was tempted to visit the Channel this evening, but she knew that if she did she would be tired tomorrow, and she wasn't about to spend a night on her fantasy when tomorrow she could have some reality. He wanted to sleep with her. No, he wanted to fuck her. And she was going to let him do it while she enjoyed every minute of it. Legally they would be married, so why not, if he wanted it? Their behavioral agreement gave them the choice. And there was no denying the sexual attraction between them. Maybe after they had done it a few times the thrill would pale for them. But even as she considered it, Ashley knew that wasn't going to happen. He was going to love doing her, and she was going to love letting him.

A weather front came through in the night, chasing the humidity out to sea and bringing rain that ended around ten in the morning. The day was suddenly perfect. Well, why the hell not? Ashley thought. She was a Kimbrough. This was her wedding day. And it was going to happen this time. No surprises. No embarrassment. It was going to happen! Byrnes had brought her coffee, and then she had gobbled a plate of scrambled eggs before hurrying out to the gardens to make certain everything would be just perfect.

Old Tony, her gardener, and young Tony, his grandson and sometime helper, had spent the summer coaxing a pair of Sterling Silver rosebushes up a trellis. They had pruned and fussed over the roses to make certain that today the trellis was covered in blooms. Some were fully opened, some half-opened but the effect was visually spectacular. Ten chairs covered in white cotton covers were set up before the trellis, five to each side. Urns filled with lavender and white flowers stood on either side of the trellis. Lavender was Ashley's favorite color.

"Will the flowers hold until four thirty?" Ashley asked old Tony.

He nodded. "The sun doesn't come around here this time of year until just after three thirty, missus. It's gonna look beautiful."

"Thank you," Ashley said. "Keep the dogs from it."

He nodded his acknowledgment.

Returning to the house, Ashley went to the dining room. It had already been set up. The table was covered with a white silk damask cloth embroidered with multicolored silk flowers along its border. "Where did this come from?" she asked Byrnes.

"It's been stored in the linen chest since your mother married your father," he answered her. "Hasn't been used since. We had to wash it and iron it to get the wrinkles out of it from all those years being folded up. I'd forgotten all about it, but you know how sentimental Mrs. B. is. She remembered, and thought it should be on the table today."

"The flower arrangement is spectacular," Ashley noted, approving the big cut-crystal bowl of purple, lavender, pink, and white dahlias, and greens.

"Did them myself," Byrnes said. "We're using the Royal Worcester and the Waterford tonight. Do you want the Gorham Fairfax or the Reed and Barton 1810?"

"Use the Fairfax. I like it better with the Royal Worcester," Ashley said. Then she left the dining room. There was absolutely nothing for her to do. The garden was ready. Byrnes had everything in hand in the house, and if she dared to venture into the kitchen she would hurt Mrs. B.'s feelings. She had canceled her regular Saturday massage, but she did have a noon appointment at Prime Cuts for a manicure and a pedicure. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall as it began to strike, and saw it was eleven forty-five. Ashley raced to her car.

At Prime Cuts she found herself surrounded by women she knew. Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo was there, along with Carla Johnson and Nora Buckley. They smiled at her con-spiratorially. Emily Shanski, now Emily Devlin, delivered in late June of her first child, was in a wicker chaise getting a pedicure while the baby slept in a basket by her side.

"You look great for someone who just had a baby," Ashley said.

"You think so?" Emily said with a rueful smile. "I still feel like a bit of a cow about to calve." She chuckled. "When you get married one day-and you will, despite your previous misfortunes-look out for those extra romantic moments that sneak up on you. Writing a novel is far easier than being preggers, I can assure you."

"Yeah." Carla Johnson laughed. "Those sudden pleasures can really get you."

The other women all laughed knowingly. Each one of them was a subscriber to the Channel, but they were also happy, even the widowed Nora.

"Well," Ashley said, "I've never written a novel, but I suppose one day I might have a baby. When I do I'll let you know if the shop is harder." She smiled at them. Why was it that Nora Buckley seemed to grow more beautiful and younger-looking as each day went by? Ashley remembered a few years back, when Nora would never have ventured into her shop. She would just stand outside the windows looking sad and worn. But today she was one of Ashley's best customers, and the more suggestive a garment was, the better Nora liked it, though who she wore those lacy nothings for, Ashley didn't know. But then Nora, a widow, had always been a very private woman-except for that brief time when her husband was arrested and died in the lockup overnight.

A manicure table became available, and the pedicurist, having finished with Emily Devlin, moved over to do Ashley's feet as her hands were being tended to. By one thirty she was driving back up to Kimbrough Hall. She wanted a bath. Her nerves were becoming more jangled with each passing moment. A bath would soothe her, she decided as she poured oil of lilies into the hot water. Her cell rang, and she flipped it open. "Ashley here."

"We're on our way," Ryan's voice said. Then he lowered it. "What are you doing right now, Ash?"

"I'm in the bathtub," she said softly.

"Next time I'll be with you," he told her. "See you soon."

Ashley closed her eyes and imagined it. Yes, the tub could fit two easily. Her hand moved down between her legs, and she began playing with her clit. It didn't take long for her to come. Oh, yes! She needed to be fucked. She needed it badly, and so did he. Tonight could well turn out to be explosive. Ashley got out of her tub and stepped into the shower to rinse off. Then, drying herself off, she went to lie down for a brief while. Her clock was set for three forty-five, and she awoke immediately as it began to beep. She felt relaxed and refreshed now, but she lay quietly for a few minutes more. Then she went to get dressed. Her bridegroom and new family would be arriving, and then the few guests. Under the circumstances it wasn't necessary that she go down and greet them. Besides, they all knew one another. She slipped on her bra and panties. They were cream silk and lace, unlike her usual plain silk. Well, it was an occasion, she reasoned with herself. Her legs were smooth and tan, and she didn't bother with stockings. She was wearing pretty cream-colored leather sandals on her feet. She did her makeup, such as it was: a little bit of green eye shadow, some blush, a pink lipstick. Then she slipped into her dress, which buttoned in the back with two pearl buttons she was just able to reach herself. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she was pleased. The calf-length dress was lovely. Reaching for her hairbrush, she fluffed her short hair. Then she affixed her mother's antique pearl earrings in her ears. A knock sounded on her door and she called, "Come in."

Byrnes stepped through. He was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and a blue-and-white polka-dot silk tie. He was carrying a small bouquet, which he handed to her. "I believe we are ready, Miss Ashley," he said with a smile. "Oh, the wife said to make certain you wore your sapphire ring. You need something blue. Mr. Ryan's mother has left you the something old and borrowed." Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small antique gold cross on a thin chain. "Mrs. Mulcahy said she hopes you'll wear it, and she'll tell you all about it later. Would you like me to fasten it about your neck?"

"Please," Ashley said, and watched as the little cross settled on her chest just above the neckline of her dress. "I guess we're ready then," she told Byrnes.

He escorted her downstairs and through the house out into the gardens. Tony had been right: The trellis was now ^? awash in late-afternoon sunlight. She heard the bridal march as she slowly proceeded down the short aisle, preceded by Mrs. Byrnes in a lovely floral lavender silk dress. Mrs. B. was carrying a small bouquet of purple, lavender, and white dahlias. Ashley's nosegay was made up of small lavender roses, white freesia, and ivy. She wondered where the music was coming from, but then the music stopped magically as they reached the trellis where Ryan stood waiting with Ray Pietro d'Angelo and Judge Palmer. Byrnes proudly answered, "I do," when asked who gave the bride.

It was happening! Ashley thought. It was really happening this time! She was getting married. Married to a handsome, sexy guy she barely knew. But strangely, she wasn't worried. Fate sometimes actually did take a hand in your life, and it didn't have to be forever if they decided that they hated it. And then she thought that was a lousy attitude to have as you were being married. Maybe it would work out. Maybe there would be more between them than just sex. Maybe. Just maybe.

She hardly listened to what was being said, managing only to reply, "I do," at the appropriate place. She and Ryan had not had to go down to town hall to apply for their wedding license. Judge Palmer had made out the license himself to help them preserve their privacy. Ashley hadn't wanted anyone to know she was getting married before the fact. And if she and Ryan had gone to get that license, the Egret Pointe Gazette would have had it on the front page Thursday, when the paper came out. As Judge Palmer pronounced them man and wife under the laws of the state, Ashley realized she was no longer the bad-luck bride. She was a married woman.

"You may kiss your bride, Mr. Mulcahy," Judge Palmer said with a smile.

And he kissed her. Oh, yes, he kissed her-a long, demanding, hot kiss that sent the color flooding her cheeks. And when he released her and looked into her eyes, Ashley felt her legs go weak. She grabbed at his arm, and he smiled down at her.

"Wow!" Ashley said.

"How soon can we get rid of the guests?" he whispered to her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the judge, turning them about, "may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Finbar Mulcahy."

There was much clapping and laughter as everyone pressed forward to congratulate them. Angelina hugged and kissed them both. Frankie was crying, along with Nina and Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo. Mr. and Mrs. Byrnes were standing proudly by, as pleased as if she were their own daughter. Ashley had insisted they hire servers so the Byrneses might be guests at the table today.

"So all's well that ends well," Ray Pietro d'Angelo said with a pleased grin. "Joe and I did good by you, huh? What do you think, Lina? Are you happy, cara ?”

"For the moment," Angelina Mulcahy said with a meaningful nod to Ashley.

"Shall we all go up to the house now?" Byrnes suggested.

"Yes," Ashley agreed. "There are drinks and nibbles before dinner." She slipped her arm through her new husband's, and began to move toward the house.

"You're a beautiful bride," he told her quietly as they walked. "I thought you weren't going to wear a wedding dress?"

"It isn't a wedding dress. It's just a dress," Ashley told him.

"On you, it's a wedding dress. I want a picture of you in it," he told her.

"There'll be a photographer waiting up at the house," Ashley said. "I'm giving the local paper an exclusive. We'll be front-page news next Thursday." She laughed.

"You hired the paper's photographer?" he asked.

"No, the local photographer, but I'm giving him permission to sell the pictures to the paper. He just thinks he was hired for a social event. I told him it was a charity party. Is he in for a surprise." Ashley chuckled.

Ryan grinned. "You've got a wicked sense of humor, Ash," he said. "I like it."

She smiled up at him. She was married. He was her husband. He wanted to make love to her. He liked her sense of humor. Something akin to a tiny spark of hope bloomed inside her at that moment. Was it just possible that this convenience could turn into something else? She had never had any luck with men. Until now…?

They entered the house, leading their guests into the gracious living room. Almost at once there were servers with trays holding glasses of wine and canapés. Most of the guests had been in the house before. Ashley saw Frankie sneak off with Rose and Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo, Carla Johnson, and Nina. She knew full well that Frankie was taking the women up to see the master suite.

"You will forgive her, of course, cara ," Angelina said quietly. She had seen them leave too. "Francesca is an enthusiastic woman."

"I like her," Ashley replied. "We're becoming friend's. I thought I would hold a party in October sometime for the rest of your family. Will you tell your other daughters that Ryan and I have gotten married, Lina? The announcement cards are ready to go out on Monday, but I really think they should be told personally."

"I believe that chore is up to your husband," Lina said, her warm brown eyes twinkling mischievously. "Can you do one of those conference calls to all of them at once? It will give you an idea of how passionate my older daughters are. That is probably a good word to describe them. They aren't bad women, although Ryan and Frankie would have you believe it. They are simply middle-aged and bored with their lives. Some people, when they get that way, find useful things to do. My daughters, however, cause trouble for their own amusement. How they became so certain of their own righteousness I will never know. I did not raise them that way."

"I think it might be fun to call Ryan's sisters," Ashley agreed. "But is he brave enough to beard them all at once, I wonder?"

"Beard who?" Ryan had come up on his mother and bride. His arm slipped about Ashley, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"We'll have to call your sisters tonight or tomorrow, and tell them you're married," Ashley said. "The announcements go out on Monday, and they can't learn of your marriage that way. It's cold and impersonal. It's bad enough we didn't invite them to the wedding, Ryan."

"I wanted us to have a happy wedding day," he said, "and with the harpies here it wouldn't have been. But you're right. We need to call them. We can do it tonight."

Byrnes had been watching for the women to return to the living room, and when they did he nodded imperceptibly to the head server, who then announced dinner. They all trooped into the formal dining room, oohing and ahhing at the table setting as they sat down. Immediately a clear vegetable broth was served and the wineglasses filled. It was followed by a salad of mixed lettuces-Boston, both green and red, endive, arugula, and peppery nasturtium flowers, dressed in a raspberry vinagrette. The main course was leg of lamb cooked with garlic and rosemary, fresh French cut green beans, slivers of yellow summer squash, and small white potatoes that had been roasted about the meat as it cooked. The wineglasses were filled again. When the meal had concluded the guests once more adjourned to the living room, where the wedding cake had been set up.

"The first one of you who starts singing 'The Bride Cuts the Cake' is going to get it," Ashley said grimly. "It's so corny."

"I'd like to get a shot of you two cutting the cake," the photographer said. When he had learned the charity party was actually Ashley's wedding he almost fainted. And then when she generously told him he could sell three pictures to the local newspaper, he was rendered almost speechless. He had taken a picture of both the bride and the groom together, with Judge Palmer, with Mr. and Mrs. Byrnes, with Angelina and Frankie, with their friends. He had taken a picture of Ashley seated demurely with her wedding bouquet, and then he had taken another of her seated and Ryan standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder, her hand on his hand. At one point she turned to look up at him and smiled. The photographer had photographed that too. Now he took pictures of the bridal couple cutting their wedding cake while the guests mischievously hummed the forbidden tune. Ashley fed her new husband a bite of cake. The photographer snapped. Ryan fed Ashley a bit of cake, and some of the frosting got on her nose. She laughed, and the photographer snapped. The cake was served with miniature scoops of lemon sorbet.

It was evening, and the party was coming to an end. A stretch limo had arrived to take Ray and Rose Pietro d'Angelo, Angelina, and Frankie back into the city. The local guests were departing in their own cars. The top layer of the wedding cake was wrapped, boxed, and put in the freezer to celebrate their first anniversary. The servers were busily cleaning up. Byrnes and his missus had disappeared, probably to their own quarters.

Ashley turned to look at her new husband. "I guess we had better call your older sisters now," she said.

"Yep," he agreed. "Business first. And then pleasure." Reaching out he pulled her into his arms and kissed her mouth gently. "I like the way you kiss, Mrs. Mulcahy."

"Ditto," she admitted as her cheeks warmed.

They went into the library, where there were two handsets for the telephone. Ryan pressed the appropriate buttons to set up the conference call, and then he dialed. "Bride, it's Ryan. This is going to be a conference call with all of you, so hang on," he told her, and before she could question him he moved on to the second number. "Betta, Ryan." And he gave her the same message.

"How can you be certain they're all at home?" Ashley asked.

"It's Saturday night," he said with a grin, and then he was speaking with his sister Kathleen, then Magdalena, and finally Deirdre. "Okay, girls, you all there?"

"Who's died?" Bride, the eldest, wanted to know.

"Is Mom all right?" Magdelena demanded.

"Nobody's died. Nobody's been in an accident. Nobody's been diagnosed with a wasting illness. Okay?" he said.

"So why a conference call with all of us?" Bride asked. "You know we have other things to do, Ryan, than listen to your foolishness."

Ashley raised an eyebrow. Jeez, nice sister, she thought.

"I have an important announcement to make, girls," Ryan said.

"You're drunk," Betta decided.

"Probably a little, because it's been an exciting day. I got married today, girls. Ma and Frankie were here with us. Since the announcements go out on Monday I thought my big sisters would want to know before they arrived in the mail."

There was a long, very deep silence, and then Bride said, "Who is this person you married? Some little gold digger who thinks she's hit the jackpot by marrying you?"

"As a matter of fact, she's richer than I am. And it's old money, girls. Not new like ours. Old money. Beautiful home filled with antiques. Servants. Breeding and background. Her ancestors helped found the town."

"What's her name?" Kathleen demanded to know. "Just who is this rich girl?"

"Her name is Ashley Cordelia Kimbrough, and she's beautiful, with hair the color of good mahogany, and green eyes that I get lost in every time I look into them," he said.

"Oh, my God," Betta groaned. Her brother sounded as if he were in love.

"Is this a joke, Ryan? Because if it is, it's in very poor taste," Bride snapped.

"No joke, Bride. I'm married. I have a beautiful wife, and now if you don't mind I'm going to go off and spend a delightfully active wedding night with my bride. Actually, it was Ash who suggested I call you. She didn't want your feelings hurt."

"If she didn't want our feelings hurt she could have asked us to the wedding," Bride said acerbically.

"I didn't want you here," Ryan told his sisters bluntly. "You would have spoiled what has been an incredibly wonderful and happy day for us. I didn't want my wife having to look back on our wedding day with unhappiness because the five of you were sniping at her and bitching at me. You had better call Jerry Klein, girls, and tell him the deal is off. Big brother has a beautiful new wife, and now he's going to go and fuck her."

Ashley almost burst out laughing at the collective gasp that arose from the women on the other end of the phone.

"Good night, girls," Ryan said. Then he hung up.

"Oh, Lord, and you say I've got a wicked sense of humor," Ashley said, laughing. "Those poor women are going to have a terrible weekend now."

He picked up the phone again and dialed. "Ma, I wanted you to know-Frankie too-that I've called the girls and told them. You'll probably have several messages on your machine when you get home tonight. Frankie too." He listened, and then laughed. "Thanks," he said, and then he hung up.

"What did she say?" Ashley asked him.

"She said I was to love you very gently on our first night together," he answered low, and his eyes were filled with his open longing.

Ashley felt her cheeks growing pink, and, laughing, he pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her soft dark hair. Her heart was hammering nervously. The tip of her tongue touched her lips briefly, and she put her palms flat against his chest, realizing as she did so that the house was suddenly very quiet, and that they were very much alone. And then his mouth took hers in a fierce kiss that rendered her weak-kneed.