“Not if I’m the one having to try to repair said clothes. And if you go around ripping your clothes to shreds, what do you think your little brother will do? He’s going to follow your example in all things.”

“Do you think so?” He rolled her over onto her back and swept his hand from her breasts to her thighs, slowing along her flat belly and mound before traveling lower. “I love the feel of your skin.”

“I’m not moving, Conner. If you’re going to . . .” She broke off with a little cry when he dipped his head and swept his tongue along the same path as his hands, this time stopping at the junction between her legs.

She laughed and caught his hair in her hands, holding him there.

Chapter 16

16

ISABEAU took the cup of tea from Mary Winters with a small smile. “Conner wants me to find a dress to wear. For some reason it’s really important to him.”

“And it isn’t to you?” Mary asked gently.

Isabeau looked down into the steaming cup. “I don’t want it to be. It isn’t like I have family. My mother died so long ago I barely remember her and my father . . .” She broke off. It wasn’t like she had anyone to walk her down the aisle. The wedding was going to be taking place in the doctor’s backyard right on the edge of the rain forest. White, flowing, traditional dresses wouldn’t make sense anyway. “I think every girl dreams of this day, walking down the aisle with her father, surrounded by family and friends.” She shrugged. “I want to marry Conner, of course, but I pictured it all happening quite differently.”

Mary reached out and sympathetically patted her knee. “Don’t be depressed, Isabeau. You can make this day anything you want. When Abel asked me to marry him, we had no one either. Now . . .” Her smile was warm. “ . . . our family is very large and we’re blessed with several grand-children. I remember the day we got married as if it were yesterday. You want your day to be like that. Your man is so excited. I can see joy on his face.”

Isabeau’s smile lit her eyes. “Me too. That’s why I’ve agreed to this. It’s such an imposition for you.”

“Did you know Marisa?” Mary asked, placing her cup carefully on the white-laced tablecloth.

Isabeau nodded. “I met her a short while ago, right before she was killed. She was a good friend to me. At the time, I didn’t know she was Conner’s mother.”

“But she knew you were Conner’s chosen mate,” Mary said. “I know because I always knew with my sons. Mothers have that extra sense about them.”

“I hope she knew. I hope she approved.”