Page 37 of Forbidden Bastard
Yet her stomach hadn’t untwisted and her heart now thumped faster. This wasn’t good.
All negative thoughts disappeared when Michael showed her the new do in his mirror. He'd transformed her hair into shiny curls in an updo, and the diamonds around her neck sparkled.
Sandi, in the large adjoining bathroom, slipped into the red dress that clung in all the right places. She left the other two choices in the empty walk-in closet. She stepped out and sashayed toward the huge mirrors set up near the racks of dresses, feeling feminine.
Chelsea wore a fabulous yellow gown and Cassidy was in green, sitting on a stool for Michael to freshen her dark brown hair.
Michael, Cassidy and Chelsea all stopped mid-hair to applaud. Sandi smiled at herself and said, “I look like a siren.”
If Charles loved her and this was a love match, then he’d be happy she'd glammed it up for the night.
If dressing to stun was a bad idea, then she’d make another bad choice.
Cassidy left Michael and brushed the red dress like she saw a speck of dust. “Absolutely lovely. You’re perfect for the palace.”
“Then we better get going,” Sandi said, still nervous. "Thanks for your help." Cassidy's green gown was classic in design, while Chelsea's had enough flair to be worn on a runway.
Surreal. Tonight she was going to the royal ball with Charles. What could go wrong?
Chapter 12
Fun wasn’t what he’d ever assume he’d have when he met his half sisters and their husbands. When he’d invited them, he’d assumed they’d run like their mother would. And he hadn’t expected to laugh, but he understood the suggestion that they all go separately.
At the end of the night, he wanted to escape the palace to come home, with Sandi.
Charles waited at the front door of his house as the limo pulled up to take his guests to the palace. He lived in the opposite direction, but he stood as the perfect host to tell his guests goodbye. As they finished getting into their limo, Charles waved off Remington Burke, the Earl of Skye, Cassidy, Alexandre Travers, the French vintner, and Chelsea, whose art was a collector's item these days.
After talking to the others, he’d arranged to have his own limo bring him and Sandi so they could go ahead and they might come home.
His mind buzzed. Sheena had been right about Chelsea’s artwork. Alex had proudly shown him pictures earlier on his phone.
She was magnificent and somehow they were related. He had an eye to sell art, which Clara once said was a gift to many creative types who never had that skill.
The town car to bring him and Sandi to the castle pulled up--where was Sandi, anyway? He closed the front door and tugged at his tight collar.
His American fiancée was late and she’d stressed the need to be on-time with him since they'd met.
He scanned the foyer, and then the stairs.
Had something happened?
He decided to go to the suite where staff was packing the up dresses but she wasn’t there.
For a moment his heart didn’t quite beat and his shoulders tensed.
Where was she?
He popped his head into their bedroom mostly because he wasn’t sure where else to go. But as he glanced inside, he saw a spot of red out on the balcony.
Charles entered his room as if drawn. Surely the woman outside wasn’t Sandi. The diamonds in her hair only made the moonlight seem brighter.
And the red fabric clung in all the right places.
Her backside and neckline were intimately familiar. He lightly tapped on the balcony door to get her attention. She turned around and his breath caught in his throat.
Sandi was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She smoothed the sides of her dress like she was erasing non-existent wrinkles. He reached for her hands as he said, “You look amazing.”
