After the Loving. Gwynne Forster

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After the Loving

      After the Loving

      Essence Bestselling Author

      Gwynne Forster

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Dear Reader,

      So many of you have written to me over the past several years asking me when I would publish another book about the Harrington brothers. Finally, my editor agreed it was time to revisit this charming family. Originally there were only three Harrington brothers, and each had his own story. However, in my treasure trove of ideas, I discovered that the Harrington family is larger than I had initially thought, and includes stories of their extended family and friends.

      I am pleased that this romance about the sometimes sizzling, sometimes rocky relationship between the second Harrington brother—Russ—and the woman he loves, Velma Brighton, is once again available to readers. And if you enjoy the handsome and fiery Russ Harrington—and I sincerely hope that you do—you will be happy to learn that a new Harrington novel, A Compromising Affair, will be published in September 2011.

      In case you missed the other award-winning Harrington novels, Kimani Arabesque is reissuing them beginning with Once In A Lifetime, which was released in November 2010, and Love Me or Leave Me, which is being reissued in August 2011. I hope you have an opportunity to read all of the books in the Harringtons series.

      I enjoy receiving mail, so please email me at [email protected]. If you write by postal mail, reach me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044, and if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins, Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, at [email protected].

      Warmest regards,

      Gwynne Forster

      ACKNOWLEDGMENT

      To the memory of my parents,

       who gave me a legacy of faith, instilled in me

       the efficacy of kindness, integrity and commitment to

       good; to the memory of my siblings from whom I learned

       the art of distinguishing conflict from competition;

       to my late mother, especially, who wrote the first fiction

       I ever read and taught me to read and write

       by the time I was five; and to my beloved husband,

       who fills my life with joy in so many ways.

      Finally, I thank God for the talent he has given me

       and for the opportunities to use it.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 1

      Velma Brighton zipped up the mauve-colored, strapless silk-and-lace gown, fastened a strand of eight-millimeter pearls at her neck, and forced herself to look in the floor-length mirror that leaned against the wall. Grimacing at the sight of her more than amply rounded figure in the fitted gown, she cringed with embarrassment.

      “Now, he’ll know what I really look like,” she said to herself, lamenting the fact that she couldn’t wear her usual caftan and wishing that she was tall and slender. As she stared at the mirror, she saw not only her own likeness, but a reflection of the groves of snow and icicle-laden trees on the north side of Harrington House that created an idyllic dream world. For a better look, she walked over to the window of the guest room she occupied and fixed her gaze on the broad expanse of snow-covered beauty, shaking her head in wonder at the sunlight dancing against the icicles. No bride could ask for a more beautiful wedding day.

      This was her fifth or sixth visit to Harrington House, an enormous red-brick colonial set off by a great circular driveway, dominating John Brown Drive in Eagle Park, Maryland. She first visited it in order to be with her sister, Alexis, but on each subsequent trip to visit her sister, her heart had fluttered wildly in her eagerness to see Russ Harrington again. And though he always welcomed her, often being especially attentive, she didn’t think she’d made much headway with him.

      She checked her hair and make-up and went downstairs to the rooms her sister occupied with her five-year-old daughter, Tara.

      “How do I look, Aunt Velma?” Tara asked the minute Velma walked into the room.

      “Beautiful. You’ll be the perfect flower girl.”

      Smiles enveloped Tara’s face. “My mummy said I looked, uh…spec…spec…what, Mummy?”

      “Spectacular.”

      Velma regarded her sister—tall, willowy and beautiful in the ivory-colored silk-satin-and-lace wedding gown. “I was a little surprise when you said you’d wear white, but I’m glad you did.”

      “Telford asked if I would—he wanted a traditional wed ding. I wasn’t going to deny him because of a foolish convention that a divorced or widowed woman shouldn’t wear white at a subsequent marriage. Brides wore white traditionally because they were virgins. Honey, that was then. Telford’s never been married, and he deserves a good old-fashioned wedding if that’s to his liking.”

      “You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw,” Velma said. “Just wait till Telford sees you. The poor man’s heart will jump right out of his chest.”

      “I certainly hope not,” Alexis said, adjusting her tiara. “I haven’t seen him since last night, and it seems like years.”

      “You’re not supposed to see the groom on your wedding day until you meet him at the altar. You know that.”

      “I do know it. I just wish I could see him. Velma, I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m…I’m so happy. If I’m not careful, I’ll bawl.”

      “You won’t. It’s not your style.” She reached up to Alexis with open arms. “I’m happy for you, sis. After all you suffered with Jack, you deserve this wonderful man. Turn around and let me fasten these buttons. I never could figure out why they put these tiny things on the back of a wedding dress, unless it’s to frustrate the groom when he tries to get the gown off the bride.”

      She loved Alexis’s low, sultry laugh when she said, “I hope to have him in such a state that he’ll rip ’em off.”

      Velma stopped her task and wondered aloud, “Would he do that? Good Lord, how exciting! I would never have believed him capable of it.”

      “Can’t judge a book by its cover, hon, nor a man by his height. And that’s gospel. Seen Russ today?”

      Velma shrugged as if didn’t matter, but it did. “Not since last night. If he ate breakfast, he did it before I went downstairs. That man is an enigma. Last night, he laughed, joked and teased with me, and this morning, he acted as if I wasn’t in the house.”

      Alexis placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Understanding Russ may prove to be a full-time job, Velma. He’s tough and sometimes he seems cynical, but dig deeper. He’s loving, caring and if he tells you he’ll do something, he does it.”

      “I believe that, but—”

      In the act of inspecting the long white leather gloves she planned to wear, Alexis stopped, threw them on the bed and stared at her older sister. “I