Shannon stopped wringing her hands and rooted her feet to the floor. “Perhaps her parents will believe she has changed,” she ventured hopefully.
Two voices answered her simultaneously. “Never!”
Shannon had had enough. Pride stiffened her resolve. “For ten days I have allowed myself to be poked, prodded, and pushed into being someone other than I am. I said nothing when you changed the style of my hair or had me measured for garments that indecently display my—”
“Charms?” Cody said helpfully.
Shannon cast him a hard look. “My bosom,” she said defiantly. “I did not protest when you demanded I alter the way I talk, the way I walk. I have permitted you both to bully and berate me, but I will not let you best me.”
“She has a gift for alliteration, doesn’t she?” Cody observed.
“Nor bait me!” she said, her voice rising. “I am weary of it all! The devil take both of you!”
Brandon set down his tumbler and took the measure of Shannon’s anger. She was magnificent! Her face was flushed with color, her spine was rigid, and her violet eyes actually blazed. He would not have called her beautiful in that moment, but she certainly was arresting. He stood and walked toward Shannon, stopping only when he was directly in front of her, and she had to raise her face to him. “Aah, my sweet wife,” he said with disarming charm. “There is hope for you yet.” One hand wound in her hair and held her, and then he kissed her full on the mouth.
Shannon was too shocked to make even a token resistance. His lips were warm. He tasted faintly of Scotch and tobacco. The pressure of his mouth was insistent, and somehow Shannon found her lips parting beneath his. She never heard Cody discreetly leave the room. Without quite knowing how it happened, she felt his tongue running along the edge of her teeth and then engaging her tongue in sweet conflict. Her fingers curled in the velvet material of his jacket. A hand slipped around her waist and held her securely. She was raised on her toes and brought flush against him, her breasts pressed flatly against his chest. Through the folds of her dress she could feel the muscles of his arms and thighs tauten. It was then he lifted his head, reluctantly it seemed, and set her from him.
Brandon turned away, poured himself another drink, and hoped she did not see his hands were trembling. He swallowed a third of his liquor, braced himself, and faced Shannon again, leaning negligently against his desk.
Shannon stood her ground exactly where Brandon had left her. “What was that for, pray tell?” she asked him in what she hoped were cool tones.
“Splendidly done.” He lifted his glass in salute. “You are becoming more adept at dealing with the unexpected.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“That was very much like Aurora.”
“Then it was a test of sorts,” she said. She refused to show either hurt or disappointment, both of which were crushing her heart.
“Of sorts,” he agreed. He put aside the drink and folded his arms on his chest, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I don’t think you understand clearly what it is Cody and I have been asking of you.”
“That is a surely true.”
He ignored her. “And I was not certain you were capable of it until your fiery little speech.” Or your equally fiery kiss, he added silently. “On the surface you have accomplished much in the way of being Aurora, yet at your core you remain uncertain and shy. It simply will not do. Aurora has a strength of purpose that shades everything she does. It is not one of her faults, it is one of her virtues. It is an unhappy truth that her purpose and mine are often in conflict.” He sighed. “Aurora can be devastatingly kind, generous to a fault, and agreeably affectionate. But with a purpose. Invariably she has a purpose. Her parents do not always see through to her motives, but they certainly see the strength of her character. They must see it in you or all will fail.”
Shannon reached for her embroidery, holding it in front of her so her hands would not fidget. “I think I understand,” she said slowly. “I will try harder on the morrow.” She made a small curtsy. “Excuse me, please.” She had only turned her back when Brandon called to her. “Yes?”
“Are you really bothered by the neckline of your new gowns?” When she nodded, he said, “Then I will speak to the seamstress.”
“Thank you.”
Two daysbefore the arrival of Aurora’s parents, Shannon stepped out onto the verandah in search of fresh air and privacy. She found neither. The evening was unbearably humid and Brandon was sitting on the flagstones, his back against one of the white column supports. His head was bent over his sleeping daughter’s head. He seemed fascinated by the gentle sucking motion of Clara’s mouth around her thumb. He brushed aside a damp tendril of her hair and kissed her forehead.
It was a poignant, tender moment, and Shannon was loath to disturb it. She started to retreat into the house.
“Don’t go.”
Brandon’s softly spoken command held her. She hesitated, fingers on the door handle, while she half turned toward him. “Do you want me to take Clara?”
“No. Come. Sit here with us.” He patted the space next to him. She was looking exceedingly lovely this evening, he noted for what was perhaps the tenth time. He had not mentioned it to her, afraid to break her fragile composure. But the fact remained that she was suited to the shade of lavender she wore. The silk faille bodice preserved her modesty by permitting the ruffled edge of her chemise to be seen at the neckline. Brandon had to content himself with a mere glimpse of the high curve of her breasts when he seated her at the table. Her matching lavender overskirt was pulled up toward the back, making her waist look even smaller.
The skirt of her gown was white with tiny violets embroidered along the hem. When she turned at the door, her skirt swung gently and he caught sight of her ankles. His smile was contrite as he realized he was staring at her feet. He had not acted like such a callow youth when he hadbeena callow youth. He lifted his eyes and patted the space beside him again. “We would be pleased to have you join us.”
“All right.” Shannon crossed the verandah, very much aware of Brandon’s eyes on hers. She held his gaze. All day she had maintained her pose as Aurora, and she promised herself she would not break now. She sat beside him on the flagstones, her legs curled to one side. “Is that the cherry thumb or the chocolate?” she asked, touching the tip of her finger to the back of Clara’s fist.
“Cherry.” He smiled. “You’ve done exceedingly well today. Are you nervous about meeting the Marchands?”
Shannon laughed lightly. “What an odd question. Why should I be nervous of meeting my own parents?”
