The Playboy King's Wife. Emma Darcy

by this dutiful stance she flashed him an arch look. “I might fancy someone else.”

      His eyes simmered darkly at her. “I’ll beat off anyone who comes sniffing around you.”

      This was a far more satisfying image than her beating women off him. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I don’t want you to feel tied to me, just because you’re the best man and I’m the bridesmaid.”

      “Ah, but I want to be tied to you today, Samantha.”

      He accompanied his soft, seductive drawl of her full name with a look that challenged everything female in her, and that same everything started quivering with delight. She hadn’t fooled herself. He was seeing her as a desirable woman. And if she didn’t stop these stupidly self-defeating reactions, she’d spoil this new view of her. Tommy was offering what she wanted, even if it was only for today, and if she didn’t take it and run with it she’d be an absolute fool.

      She poured all her wild hopes into a smile, desperately needing to negate her prickliness. “Then I’ll be pleased to have your company, Tommy.”

      “I shall hold you to that,” he murmured, a triumphant twinkle lighting his eyes.

      Sam’s heart leapt joyously at this evidence of serious intention. So lost was she in the magical possibility of secret dreams teetering on the edge of reality, she almost jumped when Nathan called to her.

      “Your turn to sign,” he said, rising from the table and waving her forward. He smiled, his blue eyes brilliant with inner happiness. “You make a beautiful bridesmaid, Sam.”

      “Doesn’t she?” Miranda chimed in, turning her radiance on both Sam and Tommy.

      “Ravishing!” Tommy roundly declared, nudging her forward.

      “Thank you,” she rushed out breathlessly, Tommy’s “Ravishing!” ringing in her ears and dancing through her mind. He hovered beside her as she sat and wrote her signature where the pastor pointed and the pen wobbled on the page, her hand seemingly disconnected to the task required, trembling with the excitement coursing through her.

      When she’d finished, Tommy took the pen from her, not bothering to sit down, his arm encircling her bare shoulders as he leaned over the table and scrawled his signature with swift and masterful confidence. She stared at his handsome profile, almost disbelieving the feather-light caress of his fingers on her upper arm. He’d never touched her like this, as though wanting to feel her skin. Despite the heat of the afternoon, the tingling caress was causing her to break out in goose bumps.

      “There! All witnessed!” he said, reminding her of where they were and why.

      She jumped up, dislodging his hold, too super-conscious to let it continue. As it was, her heart was pounding erratically as she swung around to the bride and groom. There was Nathan, a strong mountain of a man, a sound and steady friend whose kindness to her at times could only have meant he knew how she felt about his brother.

      Was it all right now? she wanted to ask him. Could she trust what was happening? Was this playboy stuff from Tommy or was he intent on starting a different relationship with her? No more kid sister.

      Whether Nathan read the appeal right, the tormenting uncertainty in her eyes, Sam didn’t know, but he gave her a reassuring smile and a nod of approval which momentarily soothed the turbulence inside her. Impulsively, she stepped over and poured her emotion into a congratulatory hug which he warmly returned.

      “I hope you two have the happiest of lives together,” she said with genuine fondness for the newly wedded couple, then turning to the woman who’d won his heart. “And, Miranda, you must truly be the most beautiful bride in the whole world.”

      “She is to me,” Nathan said with such love, tears pricked Sam’s eyes.

      Would Tommy ever say that of her?

      The photographer summoned them to stand in a group in front of the gazebo, facing the wedding guests. Remembering her bridesmaid duties, Sam checked that Miranda’s veil was falling right from the single white rose fastened in the gleaming blonde chignon, and that the beaded hem of her fabulous wedding gown was displayed properly along the folds of the graceful train.

      “Enough! That’s perfect,” Tommy murmured, scooping her with him to stand in line for the photographs.

      His arm remained around her waist, coupling them very much together, and even when the photographer was satisfied with the shots he’d taken, and the pastor announced that guests could now come forward to congratulate the bride and groom, Tommy did not release his hold, drawing her aside with him, his hand applying a light pressure around the curve of her hip.

      “They look great together, don’t they?” he said warmly, watching his mother and Jared bestowing a kiss on Miranda and pressing Nathan’s hand.

      “Do you mind losing her to Nathan?” The question slipped out, voicing the long insecurity which had been fed by Tommy’s interest in other women.

      He frowned. “Why would you think that? I never had Miranda to lose.”

      Somehow Sam couldn’t let it go. “You were attracted to her when she first came to manage the resort,” she stated flatly.

      Beautiful, elegant Miranda, with her swishing blonde hair, lushly curved body, and fascinating green eyes hiding the mystery of her private life, keeping her distance while Tommy chased…Sam had been in knots, expecting Miranda to succumb, but she never did.

      He slid her a look that challenged her judgment. “Was I?”

      The taunting little question spurred her to remind him, “You kept asking her out with you.”

      His eyes seemed to mock her knowledge of those invitations even as he sardonically replied, “Curiosity. She was in charge of my resort. I wanted to know what made her tick…a woman like that, keeping herself to herself. You were curious, too, remember? It was you who tackled her head-on about the family she never spoke about.”

      She flushed at the memory. “That was awful. I was so grateful to Nathan for smoothing it over with tales of your family.”

      “At the time, I backed you up, pressing the question. Simple curiosity, Samantha. I’m not attracted to cool blondes.” His mouth curved into a slow, sensual smile. “I’m much more drawn to a fiery combination.”

      Sam’s heart flipped. The flush in her cheeks deepened. She just wasn’t used to Tommy turning this kind of attention on her, and as much as she had craved it, she found herself in wretched confusion as to whether it was real or not. Somehow it felt wrong that a superficial change in her appearance should spark such a difference in his behaviour towards her.

      Before she could sort out her own ambivalence, her family came streaming towards her, having been close behind Elizabeth and Jared in offering their congratulations to the bride and groom. The friendship between the Kings and the Connellys went back a long way—three generations—both families running cattle stations in the Kimberly, and Sam had been the only girl born to either family in the current generation.

      Three sons to Elizabeth and Lachlan.

      A daughter and two sons to Robert and Theresa Connelly.

      Sam reluctantly acknowledged it was true, what Elizabeth had said earlier. All her growing-up years she had wanted to be a boy—or every bit as good as a boy in her father’s eyes. Until Tommy had started stirring other feelings in her, feelings that she hadn’t known how to handle then. Or now.

      The distraction of her family was welcome, familiar faces, people who loved her. Her father looked very distinguished in a suit, his mane of thick white hair—all red gone out of it in recent years—curling away from his still ruggedly handsome face. Strange, she had been the only one to inherit his hair and blue eyes. Her younger brothers, Greg and Pete were built like their father, but had their mother’s dark colouring, and both of them looked very attractive, all brushed up for the wedding. Her mother, as always, was the