Her mother stepped forward to relieve Goldie of the small bouquet clutched in her fist. Then Goldie was listening to Gael’s deep, firm tones as he said his vows. Her eyes widened when his driver stepped forward with two rings laid out on a small velvet pillow. Gael’s was a simple broad gold band, hers a platinum double circle with yellow diamond studs holding the two rings together.
Her fingers shook as she held his ring poised over his knuckle and repeated her own vows. A furtive glance at Gael showed his complete attention on her as she uttered the binding words. When she had finished an unfathomable look crossed his face.
In that moment Goldie was certain she’d crossed a threshold she would never be able to step back from.
* * *
Gael had experienced a well of satisfaction as he slid the wedding band onto her finger and repeated the words that had made Goldie Beckett his wife. He’d secured his child’s future. Ensured it would never suffer the stings of illegitimacy and rejection he’d suffered. Would never be made to feel like an obstacle or an unwanted possession, either through emotional neglect or in the face of its mother’s ambition.
He forced aside the rush of bitterness that stormed him. So far he’d been able to keep his feelings under control—had been able to contain the knowledge that Goldie’s yes had come after his offer of compensation and a promise of a flourishing career.
He wanted to keep his emotions out of it—much as he kept his emotions out of his business transactions. And yet the boulder that had lodged itself in his chest since her acceptance of his deal wouldn’t shift.
It shouldn’t matter. Ultimately, he’d done what needed to be done for the sake of his child.
And yet it did matter.
He knew it mattered when he was invited to kiss his bride and sealed his mouth to hers and felt her brief hesitancy before her response kicked in.
It mattered when her gaze wouldn’t meet his as they acknowledged the applause and smiles of their small group of guests once the ceremony was officially over.
He had married her to secure his child’s wellbeing.
So why did his own suddenly feel precarious?
‘Gael?’
He shut off his thoughts and glanced at his bride. They’d returned home from the chapel to an alfresco lunch set up on a banquet-like bench beneath two orange trees in his garden. He’d invited the rest of his staff to join them, and had endured the endless toasts with an ever-stiffening smile.
‘Yes?’ he responded.
‘Are you okay?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Of course. What could possibly be wrong on a day like this?’
She frowned. ‘Please don’t patronise me. Have I done something wrong?’
His jaw gritted. ‘Goldie—’
‘You’ve barely said two words to me since we left the church. In fact we’ve barely had a conversation since we arrived here. I know we’re only doing this for the baby—’
‘I would prefer it if you don’t share our private agreement with the world.’
‘That’s just it. Why are we pretending to everyone that this is some sort of...love-match?’ she demanded in a hushed tone.
‘For the same reason we are entering into the marriage. To protect our child.’
‘But...’
‘Enough, Goldie. If you want to discuss this further we will—but not right now, sí?’
* * *
Another member of staff—the head of Gael’s vast stables—rose just then, to make a speech, effectively stopping her from speaking. Then there followed more speeches, mostly in Spanish, which meant she was left in the dark as to what was being said. But raucous laughter gave her a general hint.
She ate selectively, having eventually worked out which foods triggered her nausea and which would mostly likely stay down.
At one point, she caught her mother’s speculative gaze swinging from her to Gael and back again. Although Goldie smiled, she wasn’t sure it had been convincing enough.