Southern Seduction (22 page)

Dark lashes caressed her cheeks just for a second, teasing, before she opened her eyes and caught him with those golden eyes that he loved so much.
She revealed nothing of what she was feeling or thinking, much like himself.

It didn’t matter, Travis's body responded against his will, and tonight he would finally get to
taste what he'd yearned for since she’d waltzed, uninvited, into his life.

Somehow, Travis managed to hear what the priest was saying and to answer at the appropriate times.

The priest called for the alliance ring, a double ring of gold, which was a tradition in New Orleans. When opened, the ring became two interlocking bands revealing the initials of the bride and groom and the date of the wedding.

He opened the ring so that Brooke could see their initials, then he slipped it on her finger in front of her ruby ring, a ring that had set him back a pretty penny.
Yet, he knew she was worth every cent.

Brooke softly repeated her vows as she slipped the smooth gold ring on his finger.

She was surprised that he’d taken the time to have their initials engraved in the rings, but she tried not to let it show. Travis was making her feel as if all of this was real, instead of the sham it really was. Could he possibly be gazing at her with something that looked like affection? As much as she wanted to believe it, she knew that couldn't be true.

Perhaps, he was putting on a good show for his gathered relatives.
Why else would he do it? And yet, knowing that, her heart still gave a little twist at the way he made her feel.

An even more terrifying realization washed over her . . . she feared she was beginning to care for Travis.

A few minutes later, the priest pronounced them man and wife, and Travis pulled her into his arms. He whispered for her ears only, "This time it's legal." Then he kissed her so tenderly that Brooke began to feel like a real bride.

They turned.

“May I introduce Mr. And Mrs. Travis Montgomery,” the priest announced. “May no man tear them apart.”

Travis tucked Brooke’s hand into the crook of his arm and they proceeded down the aisle as man and wife.

Brooke didn’t remember any of the faces they passed. She was simply relieved that the farce was finally over. Still, there was more to get through.

All the relatives signed the register as the bride and groom made their way to the great reception.

When they entered the parish hall, Brooke was astounded at the food that had been set out on two long tables. Huge hams dotted with cloves and dripping with brown sugar syrup were stationed on each end. Pheasant, and mutton and, of course, a large pot of gumbo were there as well. A white wedding cake graced a smaller table.

“Look, a cake,” Brooke whispered to her new husband.

“Of course,” Travis said as he escorted her over to the cake. “You are a bride after all.”

“It’s just--,” she paused.
“I wasn’t prepared for anything like this.”

“After we have eaten you are supposed to cut the cake so every young woman present can receive a slice of cake.”

“I assume this is another Creole tradition,” Brooke said her lips twitching with laughter.

“Of course,” Travis replied with a grin.
“They will place the cake under their pillow with the names of three eligible young men. Tradition has it, that the one she dreams of will be her future husband.”

Brooke gave Travis a devilish grin.
“It’s exactly how I found you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Travis’s eyes gleamed with surprised laughter.
"I wondered how you managed to catch me."

"On the contrary, I wasn't trying to catch you," she said smugly. “You merely fell in my lap."

Travis's brow jerked up. "Is that so?"

Brooke wanted to laugh at Travis’s shocked expression, but before he could retort, his relatives began filing in to the parish hall to greet them.

Brooke nodded and smiled as everyone wished them well. Today’s event was so much different than the wedding breakfast, she thought, where no one even spoke to her.

Just as she began to relax and congratulate herself for getting through everything, Brooke turned and found herself face to face with Travis's grandfather.
He was just as unsmiling as the last time Brooke had seen him. Who did this man think he was, sitting in judgment of his grandson? Hadn’t he ever done anything wrong in his lifetime?

Brooke smiled to herself.
She’d wager there were a few skeletons in the old man’s closet that he kept hidden. It was a shame that she didn’t know any of them. She wondered if she might be able to uncover any of those deep, dark secrets.

Travis had stepped away from her a few moments, so Brooke was left alone with the head of the family.
They regarded each other, two fiercely indomitable wills clashed in silence.

"So you are the one," Archie deLobel said, making his statement sound more like a question.

"Yes," Brooke replied with false confidence.

DeLobel stiffened.
"I have been after my grandson to marry for years,” he said, his voice snapping like a whip.

Brooke wasn’t intimidated by his gruffness.
“Then you should be happy that he has finally heeded your advice.”

“But you are not Creole,” deLobel said as if she carried a lethal disease.
Then he added, “This marriage is too sudden. After all, Travis was engaged to another."

Brooke shrugged.
"I understand that they were not formally engaged because Travis had yet to present her with a ring."

"Formalities," deLobel said gruffly.
"It makes our family look bad."

She started to tell him that she really didn’t care, but he held his hand up.

"However, now that I know the reason, I can see why he changed his mind so quickly and did the proper thing. You’re fortunate that the man did his duty.” He nodded, though his stone-faced expression did not alter. “I give the boy some credit on that point. His mother never did correct her mistake."

So his grandfather was really angry with Travis’s mother and he directed that anger at Travis.
What a shame. Brooke would store that tidbit of information away for future use.

She didn't care for the man's snide attitude one bit, but his comment was telling, whether he’d intended it or not.
"Yes, it was gallant of Travis, wasn't it?"

"I just said so, did I not?” the man snapped.
“At least, you have gotten what you wanted?"

Brooke gave the tyrant a sweet smile and said softly, "Have I?"

Archie deLobel’s face screwed up into a frown as if he couldn’t decipher what she meant. As a lull in the conversation lengthened, Travis strode back over to them, keeping his grandfather from saying any more.

"Grandfather, I see that you are getting aquatinted with my wife.”

“Yes, I am.” He scowled. “You will have to teach the woman to curb that sharp tongue of hers,” he told Travis as if Brooke wasn’t even in the room much less standing in front of him.

Travis just smiled.
“There will be plenty of time for that,” he said lightly. Now if you'll excuse us, we’ve been instructed to take a seat at the head table."

Travis tucked Brooke’s hand under his arm and led her away from his grandfather.
“I see you and the old man got off to a good start. So, how did you find my grandfather?" Travis asked as they made their way to their special seats.

"He's rather a pompous ass," Brooke commented, keeping her voice low and smiling sweetly in greeting to another wedding guest.

Travis burst out laughing, causing many heads to turn. "At least we agree on something, my dear," he said as he pulled the chair out for her.

The feast began as soon as everyone was seated.
Brooke was hungry and she didn't hold back. She'd barely picked at her breakfast, so everything tasted wonderful, especially the savory gumbos.

She glanced up and caught Travis looking at her.
“Most brides are too nervous to eat and just pick at their food,” he said. “I see you are not having that trouble.”

Brooke smiled at his comment. “I would think you would have noticed by now that I’m not like most women,” she informed him, using a napkin to hide her smile of triumph.

“So I’m finding out.”

“Perhaps you should explain the difference between Cajun and Creole,” she suggested, lowering her napkin. “That way I can understand what is so great about being Creole.
Your grandfather makes me believe that if you are not Creole, then your blood is tainted.”

“That is precisely the way he thinks,” Travis said with a wry smile.
He placed his fork on the side of his plate. “The Cajuns trace themselves directly to the Acadian French who were expelled from Nova Scotia. By your people, I might add. And Creoles trace their heritage from the French and Spanish who came here directly from Europe. My relatives, being French, are very proud people.”

“So I’ve found out, and also rather rude, I might add.”
She smiled sweetly. “I hate to tell you, darling, but you are also English on your father’s side.”

“That I know, and my grandfather misses no chance to remind me of that.
That’s why I’m an outcast,” Travis said matter-of-factly. However, I do have Creole in my blood. As far as he is concerned, there is no hope for you.” Travis chuckled. “You are entirely English.”

“An entirely unacceptable state of affairs,” she concluded.

“Precisely.”

As the celebration continued, champagne corks popped and bubbly liquid flowed freely.
Every time Brooke turned around, someone was there to fill her glass. Soon she felt light-hearted and, yes, she had to admit, happy. It scared her to admit that, even to herself. How could she be so happy when she knew Travis didn’t really love her? He lusted for her like many men had. That’s why she needed to be careful and distance herself -- because she could care for this man.

Travis was a complex man, and it would take considerable effort for her to completely understand him.
Surely, the result would be well worth the challenge. Perhaps once she got to know him better, they might actually be able to pass a peaceful year together.

But then what?
Brooke didn’t want to think about that now. She had a year to decide what to do. For now she wanted to enjoy the moment.

Travis took pleasure in watching his wife when she didn’t know he was looking.
Despite his intention to treat her indifferently, he found he truly enjoyed his new wife’s company. She was everything a man could desire in a woman. Not only was she beautiful, but she was intelligent as well, and he enjoyed talking with her and being in her company.

Perhaps this hadn’t been such a bad arrangement after all.
He’d always intended to get marry one day, so why not to Brooke? She was certainly more desirable then Hesione. However, he most definitely wouldn’t give up the plantation in a year, nor did he think Brooke would be willing to sell her portion, either. And so they would return to a stalemate.

Maybe at the end of the year they just might stay together.
All he had to do was remain in control, and make sure not to fall in love with the head-strong woman. He had enough problems without risking his heart as well. That was, if he had one. Of course, if Brooke were pregnant by then she couldn’t leave.

The music began, and Travis took Brooke’s elbow and escorted her to the dance floor.
"I believe the first waltz is reserved for us, my dear," he said, placing his hand lightly on her waist and guiding her across the floor.

For a few minutes, all Travis
thought about was the soft music as he whirled his new wife around the dance floor. It gave him time to drink in the beauty of his bride, so blushingly radiant that she made men turn and look her way.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

The champagne had relaxed her so Brooke was indeed thoroughly enjoying herself as she whirled gently around in the arms of her husband, watching the crowd over his broad shoulder.

Her husband,
she thought. What was she going to do with a husband? Well, she knew
one
thing. She smiled to herself, anticipating the wedding night. After that, what would their lives be like?

Brooke looked up at Travis and found herself gazing into his ice-blue eyes.
She could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident and resistible. He seemed to have mesmerized her, and she couldn’t think clearly. She did manage a small tentative smile. “What did you say?”

He tightened his grip, pulling her closer to his body.
Most indecent
, she thought, enjoying every moment of it. Travis’s gaze moved down her face as if he were memorizing it, and finally rested on her lips. “I asked if you were having a good time.”

"Yes, I am,” she admitted fuzzily.
There was something lazily seductive in her look. “Everything has been very lovely. And you?"