could both look at the series of drawings she had spent the early hours of the morning displaying around their private salon to surprise him when he woke up on this, their anniversary morning.
As a wedding present from her new husband Mariella had asked to be allowed to travel in the desert with the tribe. Conscious of her pregnancy, Xavier had initially been reluctant to agree, but Mariella had been insistent. It had been on that journey that she had made the secret preliminary sketches for what was now a visual documentation of the tribe’s way of life, a visual documentation that betrayed, not only her fine eye for detail, but also her love for the man whose people she had drawn.
‘I do have a gift for you, although I haven’t followed Tanya’s advice and booked a luxury holiday,’ Xavier told her ruefully.
Following the direction of his amused glance, Mariella laughed.
Fleur, who was now walking was sitting on the floor next to her six-month-old cousin, the pair of them deep in some personal exchange, which involved lots of shared giggles and some noisy hand-clapping from Ben.
‘Don’t you dare do any such thing. There’s no way I want to be parted from these two!’
With Tanya and Khalid living around the corner, both the families saw a lot of each other, and the two young cousins could grow up together.
‘I may have another present for you,’ Mariella announced semi-hesitantly, the way her glance lingered on their son informing Xavier of just what she meant.
‘What? We said we’d wait.’
‘I know… but this time it’s your fault and not mine. Remember your birthday, when you didn’t want to wait until…’
‘Mmm.’ He did a rapid mental calculation. ‘So in another seven months, then…’
‘I think so… Do you mind?’
‘Mind? Me? No way. Do you?’
‘I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’m right,’ Mariella admitted. ‘Although I’m pretty sure that I am, and if I’m not…’ she gave him a flirtatious look ‘… then I’m sure we can find a way of ensuring that I soon am! Anyway, what about my anniversary present? You still haven’t told me what it is.’
‘Come with me,’ Xavier instructed her, bending to pick up their son and hand him to Mariella before lifting Fleur up into his own arms.
‘Close your eyes and hold onto me,’ Xavier said as he led her out into their own private courtyard, and through it to the new courtyard that had been developed behind it.
Mariella could smell the roses before he allowed her to open her eyes, and once he did so she drew in her breath in delight as she saw the new garden he had been having designed for her as a special surprise.
A softer and far more modern planting plan had been adopted for the new garden than the one favoured by Xavier’s grandmother. The design was reminiscent of an English country garden with the flower beds filled with a variety of traditional plants, but it was the wonderful scent of the roses that most caught her attention.
‘They’re called “Eternity”,’ Xavier told her softly as she bent her head to touch the velvet-soft petals of the rose closest to her. ‘And I promise that I shall love you for eternity, Mariella, and beyond it. My love for you is… eternal!’
Warm tears bathed Mariella’s eyes as she smiled at him.
‘And mine for you!’ she whispered lovingly to him.
Silently, they walked through the garden together, his arm around her drawing her close, her head resting against his shoulder, the children in their arms.
Dear Reader,
It’s a bittersweet honour for me to be asked to write a letter to go in the front of this beautiful new collection of Penny Jordan’s ‘Bride’s Bouquet’ books. On one hand it’s given me a brilliant excuse to drop everything else and lose myself in Claire, Poppy and Star’s stories, which has been a joy. On the other it is a fresh reminder of the great sadness that Penny is no longer here to introduce them herself.
The books are now fifteen and sixteen years old and yet they retain the freshness and sparkle that are the hallmarks of Penny’s writing. The characters are sharply observed, and each of the three stories that spring from the initial confetti-strewn, champagne-sealed pact between the heroines is fabulously distinctive and sizzling with its own unique chemistry. Reading them, I was reminded firstly what a truly wonderful, natural storyteller Penny was (in fact I was so wrapped up in devouring them it was a job to remember anything else!) and also that, although I can’t pick up the phone and speak to her or share a gossipy lunch, I can still hear her voice in her books. In them, she has left a legacy and a gift that will be enjoyed by generations to come.
Writing was Penny’s passion, and she spoke very often of her gratitude to every one of her readers for enabling her to make her living doing the thing she loved. She’d be really cross with me if I didn’t end this by saying thank you on her behalf for picking up this book, and I really hope you enjoy it.
India
PROLOGUE
THERE has been a long tradition at weddings that the one to catch the bride’s bouquet as she throws it will be the next to marry.
The bride emerged from the hotel bedroom, giving her skirts a final shake, turning round to check on the long, flowing satin length of her train before turning to smile lovingly into the eyes of her new husband.
Her two adult bridesmaids—her best friend and her husband’s young cousin—and her stepmother had been dismissed for this, her final appearance in her wedding gown. Chris could be her attendant on this occasion, she had told them.
‘Come on; we’d better go down,’ he warned her. ‘Otherwise everyone will be wondering what on earth we’re doing.’
Laughing, they walked to the top of the stairs and then paused to stand and watch the happy crowd in the room below them. The reception was in full swing.
The bride turned to her husband and whispered emotionally, ‘This has been the happiest day of my life.’
‘And mine too,’ Chris returned, squeezing Sally’s hand and bending his head to kiss her.
Arm in arm they started to walk down the stairs, and then, somehow or other, Sally missed her footing and slipped. The small group of people clustered at the foot of the stairs waiting for them, alerted to what was happening by Sally’s frightened cry, rushed forward, James, the best man, Chris’s elder brother and two of the ushers going to the aid of the bride, whilst the two bridesmaids and the bride’s stepmother reacted immediately and equally instinctively, quickly reaching out to protect the flowers that the bride had dropped as she’d started to fall.
As three pairs of equally feminine but very different hands reached out to grasp the bouquet, the bride, back on her feet now, smiled mischievously down at them and warned, ‘That’s it! There’ll be three more weddings now.’
‘No!’
