hours the last-minute touches were being made by various people employed to ensure every detail represented perfection.
Gardeners put finishing touches to the grounds, and florists lined the gazebo with white orchids. An altar was set ready for the marriage celebrant, and the caterers moved into the kitchen.
Cameron arrived ahead of the guests, and Cassandra accepted his careful hug minutes before they were due to emerge onto the red-carpeted aisle that led to the gazebo.
‘Nervous?’
‘Just a little.’
‘Don’t be,’ he reassured, and she offered a shaky smile as the music began.
Diego stood waiting for her at the altar, and Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to watch her walk towards him.
Everything faded, and there was only the man.
Tall, dark and attractive, resplendent in a superbly tailored suit. But it was his expression that held her entranced. There was warmth, caring…and passion evident. Qualities she knew he’d gift her for the rest of his life.
In an unprecedented gesture he moved forward and took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, then he led her the remaining few yards to the gazebo.
It was a simple ceremony, with a mix of conventional and personal vows. By mutual consent, they’d agreed to choose each other’s wedding ring.
Jewellery design was her craft, and Cassandra had selected a wide gold band studded with a spaced line of diamonds. It was masculine, different, and one of her personal designs.
There had been a degree of subterfuge in Diego’s choice, for the ring he slipped onto her finger was a feminine match of his.
‘For what we’ve already shared, what we have now,’ Diego said gently, adding a magnificent solitaire diamond ring together with a circle of diamonds representing eternity. ‘The future.’
She wanted to cry and smile at the same time, and she did both, one after the other, then gave a choking laugh as Diego angled his mouth over hers in a kiss that held such a degree of sensual promise it was all she could do to hold back the tears.
It was later, much later when they were alone, that she took the time to thank him.
Instead of booking a hotel suite, they’d opted to remain at home. It seemed appropriate, somehow, to spend their wedding night in the bed where they’d first made love.
‘You’re welcome,’ Diego said gently as she slid her arms high and pulled his head down to hers.
‘I love you.’ Emotion reduced her voice to a husky sound. ‘I always will.’
He brushed his lips across her forehead, then trailed a path to the edge of her mouth, angled in and took his time. ‘Mi amante, mi mujer, my life.’
A deliciously wicked smile curved her lips. ‘Gracias, mi esposo.’
Diego gave a husky laugh, and uttered something incomprehensible to her in Spanish.
‘Translate.’
He offered a devilish grin. ‘I’ll show you.’
And he did.
On the edge of sleep he curled her close and held her…aware one lifetime would not be enough.
Helen Bianchin
‘CAN WE HAVE another turn? Please.’
The noise and colour of the carnival was all around them. Loud music, laughter, childish shrieks in wonderment of the merry-go-round, the Ferris wheel … so many sideshows to capture the attention of a young child.
There were striped tents providing exciting adventure for children, booths selling candyfloss, hot dogs, and stands offering a variety of stuffed toys as prizes for knock-em-down revolving ducks.
Beauty in miniature, Nicki’s smile was to die for, her sunny nature a blessing, and Shannay caught her young daughter close in a loving, laughing hug.
Small arms wound round her neck. ‘We’re having fun, aren’t we?’
Shannay felt the familiar pull on her heartstrings for the gift of an unconditional trusting love of a child, in all its innocence.
‘One more time,’ she agreed, and paid for another ride. ‘Then we really need to leave.’
‘I know,’ Nicki capitulated sunnily. ‘You have to go to work.’
‘And you need a good night’s sleep so you can be bright-eyed at kindergarten tomorrow.’
‘So I can grow up and be clever like you.’
The music grew loud, the merry-go-round began to move, and Nicki clutched the reins attached to the brightly painted horse.
OK, so she’d graduated from university with a degree. But not so clever, Shannay mused reflectively, when it came to her personal life.
A broken marriage less than two years after vowing to love and cherish for a lifetime couldn’t exactly be viewed as a plus, despite mitigating circumstances.
Water under the bridge and no regrets, she assured herself silently as the merry-go-round slowed and drew to an easy halt.
‘All done.’
Shannay stepped down and lifted her daughter from the colourful horse.
Beautiful dark eyes sparkled with delicious laughter as she giggled and planted a smacking kiss on her mother’s cheek.
Nicki’s father’s eyes, Shannay reflected, and tamped down the slight tension curling her stomach at the thought of the man she’d married in haste five years ago in another country.
Marcello Martinez, born in France to Spanish parents, raised and educated in Paris, and attended university in Madrid.
Multi-lingual, attractive, sensual, charming … he’d swept her off her feet and into a life far different from her own.
She had told herself she would adjust … and she did, successfully. Or so she’d thought. But not according to his family, who had made it plain she didn’t match their élite social status.
An added complication had been the family’s favoured choice of a suitable Martinez bride … Estella de Cordova. The stunning raven-haired, dark-eyed socialite possessed impeccable credentials, stellar lineage and obscene wealth.
Something the Martinez family and Estella never permitted Shannay to forget. Or the fact that Marcello and Estella had been
