The Playboy King's Wife

Ultimately, they were responsible for their own happiness. The problem was—Elizabeth no longer trusted them to make it happen themselves. Not that she could make it happen, either. All she could do was push.

Nathan wasn’t in his room.

Tommy’s was vacant, as well.

She found all three of her sons sitting at the bar in the billiard room, Jared, her youngest, pouring champagne into glasses. In their formal black tie wedding attire, each one of them was strikingly handsome, though quite individual in their looks; Nathan so big and tall and strong and impressively male, with the bluest of blue eyes and straight black hair, almost the image of his father; Tommy, with his endearing, untameable tight black curls, and wickedly charming brown eyes, always the flash of a mischievous devil about him; and Jared, having a less obvious strength, a quieter charm, his eyes darkly serious and always receptive, just a wave in his black hair, subtly providing a balance between the other two.

For several moments Elizabeth stood still, enjoying her pride in them. Lachlan would be proud of them, too, she thought, wishing her husband was still alive and at her side today, celebrating the wedding of his firstborn. His boys were all men now, men in their own right and pursuing their chosen paths, and it did Elizabeth’s heart good to see them so happily at ease with each other, enjoying a togetherness they rarely had time to share.

“I thought you would have all had more than enough to drink at last night’s buck’s party,” she remarked, finally drawing their attention.

“Just a last toast to the end of my bachelorhood,” Nathan excused with a grin.

“Settling his nerves,” Jared teased.

“I, for one, definitely need fortification,” Tommy declared. “Any man who partners Sam has to be fighting fit, and since I’ve been elected…”

“You could give it a break, Tommy,” Nathan suggested. “Treat Sam like a lady instead of a sparring partner. Then she’d have nothing to hit off.”

Elizabeth flashed her eldest son a grateful look, pleased to have a ready ally.

“Sam, a lady?” Tommy’s mouth curled into a mocking smile. “First, she wouldn’t know how to respond. Second, she’d accuse me of sending her up. Or she’d suspect me of some nefarious motive and see everything I did and said as a trap which I’d somehow spring on her when she’d most hate it.”

He swept out an arm, gesturing to Elizabeth, his eyes beaming warm admiration. “Now, there you see a real lady. And may I say you look wonderful, Mum. Doing Nathan proud today.”

“Thank you, Tommy. And I happen to think Samantha will do you proud…if you let her.”

“Samantha?” His eyebrows shot up. “Since when has Sam become Samantha?”

“You’ll see,” Elizabeth replied knowingly, piquing curiosity.

“A glass of champagne for you, Mum?” Jared asked.

“No, thank you. I just came to check that you’re all ready and nothing’s amiss.”

“Do we pass inspection?” Nathan asked with an amused, confident smile.

For a moment, he reminded her so strongly of Lachlan on their wedding day, she choked up, nodding her approval to cover the emotional block.

“What am I going to see?” Tommy drawled, his voice laced with scepticism. “Has Miranda waved some magic wand over Sam?”

“Could I have a private word with you, Tommy?” Elizabeth asked.

“I’ve got the ring.” He patted his trouser pocket. “I know all the duties of a best man. You can trust me to carry them out. And despite whatever barbs Sam chooses to sling at me, my speech thanking the bridesmaid will be all you’d want it to be. Does that cover it?”

“Not quite. Please…just a few minutes of your time,” Elizabeth insisted, gesturing to the adjoining lounge room.

With a much put-upon roll of his eyes, he heaved himself off the bar stool, then wickedly broke into a song and dance. “‘Oh, we’re going to the cha-a-apel, going to get ma-a-arried…”’ And to his brothers’ huge merriment, swept Elizabeth into a dance hold and whirled her into the adjoining room with all the panache of the playboy image he’d cultivated.

And what did that cover? Elizabeth had often wondered. She didn’t believe he had a lust for many women. To her mind, it was more a restless search for someone to answer needs that Sam wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. Or a pride thing, proving other women found him readily desirable. But it wasn’t giving him what he truly wanted. Elizabeth was certain of that.

“So…” he said, bringing her to a halt beyond ready earshot of the others. “…what’s on your mind?”

She caught her breath, wishing she didn’t have to dampen the devilish twinkle in his eyes. But she loved Tommy too much to let him hide his deep-down needs behind a wall of frivolous fun.

“It’s Nathan’s wedding day,” she started.

He made a mock frown. “I truly am aware of that fact.”

“Yes…well, I’d like it to be a very happy occasion. No bickering or snide little cracks.”

He raised his eyebrows in a show of innocence. “I am the very soul of pleasure on tap.”

“Then show that soul to Samantha for once, Tommy. You heard Nathan. He won’t ask it directly of you but I shall. Give the fighting a break. Be kind, generous…”

His face closed up.

“Tommy, I am just asking you to treat her as you would any other woman. Don’t mess this up.”

“Mess what up?” he demanded coldly.

“This day. You’re older than she is. And God knows you’ve had enough experience of women to handle the situation with finesse. She’s nervous. She’s afraid…”

“Afraid?” His eyes flashed derision. “Sam’s never been afraid of anything.”

“You think I’m a fool, Tommy? You think I’m just talking to hear myself speak?”

He glanced away, breath hissing out between his teeth.

“I’m telling you she doesn’t have her usual armour today,” Elizabeth drove on. “I’m telling you she’s vulnerable. And if you hurt her, Tommy…it would be very, very wrong.”

“I have no intention of hurting Sam,” he grated.

She reached out and squeezed his arm. “I hope you take very great care not to. For your sake. And hers,” she said quietly.

His gaze swung back, eyes blazing a fierce challenge. “You think it’s all my fault?”

The banked passion behind those words told Elizabeth more than Tommy had ever told her…the long-burning frustration of his relationship with Samantha Connelly. But there was nothing to be gained by placing blame anywhere. Raking over the past wouldn’t help. She had to appeal to the man he was now, the man who still wanted what could be…if the ground was shifted.

“No,” she answered, her eyes holding his with love and understanding. “I simply trust you’re big enough…and I know you are, Tommy…to rise above it today. To give of yourself without asking or expecting a return or a reward. Just to give…because giving is what today is about.”

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Okay. You have a deal. For what it’s worth.” His eyes gently mocked as he added, “But you must know Sam’s bound to make tatters of any gift from me.”

“Then the fault will indeed be all hers. Thank you, Tommy.”

“Oh, I’ll be having the pleasure of being a martyred saint,” he rolled out in an Irish lilt, a resurgence of devilment in his eyes.

She smiled. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”