Marrying for King's Millions / The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman: Marrying for King's Millions. Maureen Child
them were expecting.
Two
The ceremony was over fast and Travis was grateful. Hard enough standing there holding Julie’s hand and feeling her nervous tremors rocking through her body. But as promised, when she said her vows, her voice had shaken and she got the giggles halfway through.
She really was a terrible liar, he thought, watching her dance with his younger brother, Jackson. But the deed was done now. He glanced down at the plain gold band on his left ring finger. Idly, he rubbed the ring with his thumb and tried not to feel like the small circle of gold was somehow a tiny noose shutting off his air supply.
This had been his idea after all, despite the fact that Travis had always avoided marriage. Generally, he stayed with a woman until she started getting that let’s-get-married-and-make-rich-babies-so-I-can-get-a-fat-settlement look in her eye. Then he was off, moving on to someone new. It kept life interesting. Kept him footloose, which is just the way he liked it.
Now, he was married and looking at a sex-free year.
Hmm…
“Second thoughts?”
Travis turned his head to meet his brother Adam’s curious gaze. In the last several months, there’d been a change in the oldest King brother. Oh, he still looked the same, but his attitude had shifted. He wasn’t concentrating solely on the King ranch anymore. Now his life revolved around Gina and their coming baby.
“Not at all,” Travis answered and thought that he was a much better liar than Julie. What did that say about him?
“She’s a nice woman.” Adam glanced out to the crowded dance floor where Jackson was spinning Julie around until she laughed out loud.
“Yeah, she is.” Travis reached for his glass of merlot and took a long drink. “And she knew what she was getting in to, so don’t start with me.”
Adam lifted both hands and shrugged. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Yet.”
He nodded. “Fine. I’m just saying that Julie’s not like your other women. She doesn’t have a heart of stone, so be careful.”
One of Travis’s eyebrows lifted into a high arch. “I think this is where the old saying about the pot and the kettle comes into play.”
Adam took a sip of champagne and let his gaze slide to the table where his six-months pregnant wife was sitting with her family. Then he looked back at Travis. “Exactly. When Gina and I got married, it was a straight-up business deal. Just like you and Julie.”
“Big difference,” Travis interrupted, not willing to hear a lecture or—God help him—advice. He didn’t need any help here. He and Julie would do just fine. Their agreement was nothing like the one Adam and his wife had had. “Gina loved you. Always did, though God knows why.”
“Very funny.”
Travis shrugged. “It’s different with Julie. We’re friends. Hell, we’re not even good friends. This is business for both of us. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t even go there,” Travis warned, draining his wine and setting the glass down on the table behind him. “When the year’s up, so’s the marriage. End of story.”
“We’ll see.”
Travis stared at his older brother and said, “What is up with you? Discover you love your wife and now you want the rest of us in your boat?” Grinning, he clapped one hand on Adam’s shoulder and said, “Forget about it. I’m just not a one woman kind of guy, Adam. When Julie and I are finished, it’s back to serial monogamy for me.”
The song ended and almost before the last note drifted away, the band moved into another number. This one slow and dreamy. Music spilled from the stage, swept across the crowd and drew even more couples onto the floor.
Adam shook his head and said, “This is not going to be as easy as you think it will be, Travis. But I guess you’ll find that out for yourself.”
“Guess I will,” Travis said, completely confident that his plan would work out just the way he intended.
“Now, I’m going to go dance with my wife,” Adam told him. “Maybe you should do the same.”
When his brother left and headed for Gina, Travis let that one word roll through his mind. Wife. He had a wife. Sounded as odd as the gold band on his ring finger felt. He turned his gaze to the dance floor and watched as a tall man with dark blond hair and a wispy moustache cut in on Jackson to dance with Julie.
Julie looked up at the blonde and her features froze in appalled shock. Something inside Travis jolted. He’d already started moving toward the couple when he saw Julie try to pull away even as the blonde leaned in closer to her, whispering something in her ear. Whatever he said had made quite the impression on Julie. She looked like a balloon, slowly deflating.
The crowd separating them seemed to get thicker as Travis moved faster. Instinct pushed him on. He slipped past people, pushed others out of his way and got to Julie’s side just as she finally managed to shove herself out of the blond man’s arms. She stared up at the guy as if he were a ghost and the blonde was enjoying her shock.
“Julie, you okay?” Travis came up beside her.
“Travis. Oh, God….” She covered her mouth with one hand and kept staring at the other man as if she couldn’t really believe he was there.
And just who the hell was this guy? A reporter? A photographer who’d somehow made it past security? But where was his camera? Instinctively, Travis pushed Julie behind him as he faced the tall, lanky man who was looking at him with what could only be glee shining in his pale blue eyes.
“What’s going on here?” Travis demanded, keeping his voice low enough that even the other dancers around them couldn’t hear him over the music.
The blonde gave him a half bow and smirked. “I’ve only come to offer my congratulations on your wedding,” he said, his English flavored with a very thick French accent.
Travis shot a look at Julie.
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” Travis said, turning back to the guy silently laughing at him. Something was going on here and he was damned sure he wasn’t going to like it. Hands fisted at his side, he demanded, “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Ahh…” The guy held out his right hand and said softly, conspiratorially, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jean Claude Doucette. And you must be the man who has just married my wife.”
“I’m a bigamist,” Julie muttered and the word tasted foul in her mouth. Well, this certainly put her “bad feeling” from earlier in perspective. Compared to now, that debilitating trepidation was like a day at Disneyland.
This was a nightmare. One she couldn’t seem to wake up from. One where both of her husbands—dear God—were facing off like a couple of well-groomed pit bulls. Although, if she had to bet on who would be the winner of this weird contest, she’d put her money on Travis. The Frenchman who stood so calmly at ease had no idea just how much danger he was in.
“Yes, my dear,” Jean Claude said, from his place beside the cold hearth. He looked suave and sure of himself, as always. His blond hair was swept back from his forehead. His pale blue eyes were locked on her and even from across the room, she read the humor in his gaze. He wore a well-tailored gray suit with a pale yellow shirt and a steel-gray tie. He looked relaxed, completely at home, as if he were enjoying himself immensely.
Julie had never hated another human being as much in her life.
Still watching her, Jean Claude leaned one elbow on the intricately carved wooden mantel. “You are indeed a bigamist. Such a shame, really. And