Her Sister's Secret Son by Lisette Belisle

Author:Lisette Belisle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2001-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Rachel spent her wedding night alone.

With all the unspent emotion surrounding the wedding, she slept poorly, falling into a fitful sleep around dawn. She woke to the sound of silence. Disoriented, she opened her eyes to blue walls and oak furnishings. Despite light-filtering shades, the room was filled with early-morning sunshine. The brass bed was wide, the mattress was soft, big enough for two, but she was alone. Her mood plummeted.

Last night, Jared had walked out.

And she had let him go.

She looked around the room—just to make sure he hadn’t come back. He hadn’t. After he’d left, she’d gone from anger to confusion and back again. She’d gotten ready for bed. Now, her eyes widened at the mess she’d left in her wake. Her wedding dress was where she’d left it, neatly folded over a wooden ladderback chair, but her satin shoes lay tipped onto the floor. She’d left a trail of satin underwear across the room, and sheer hose draped over one brass bed rail. The only item missing from the abandoned scene was a bridegroom.

As if on cue, a light rap on the bedroom door startled Rachel. “Just a minute,” she called out, running a hand over her tangled hair as she climbed out of bed, then reached for her bathrobe. She was tying the belt into a knot when she opened the door. “Yes, what is it?”

It was Jared—in a white towel.

A very small towel.

And he was red-faced.

“Um…I’m sorry. It’s early. Did I wake you?”

She shook her head, trying to recover from the bare tanned width of his shoulders…the thick fair hair sprinkled on his chest. Last night, they had agreed to respect each other’s space. Was he changing the rules? So soon? Golden stubble covered his chin. In her opinion, fair-haired men seldom looked rakish, but he did.

“I was awake.” She tightened her belt another notch. Only her feet were bare, but when his gaze drifted lazily over her, she felt naked—every nerve and fiber exposed. The thin peach silk of her nightdress and matching robe suddenly felt heavy on her breasts.

His eyes, shaded gray and overcast with slumberous passion, came back to meet hers. Unshaven, he looked as if he hadn’t slept much more than she had, but it looked better on him. “I’ll only be a minute. I need my clothes,” he said.

“Clothes?” she repeated, as if she’d never heard of the convention.

“I can’t find them,” he explained. “Rita must have moved my things when she was cleaning, assuming Dylan would use my old room. The house only has three bedrooms. This one, one across the hall, and Dad has the one downstairs.”

While all that registered, Rachel wondered where he intended to sleep, and all she could say was, “Rita?”

“Ramon’s wife.” When she looked blank, he added, “He manages the farm, she helps around the house. They have a teenage daughter who works part-time at the clinic, and a boy who’s about Dylan’s age. They’re practically family.”

More family!

She raised an eyebrow. “And where do they live?”

He smiled.

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