He had done well to get Celia Bamford’s services at such short notice, even though he was well aware that his name and reputation had clinched the deal.
After the introductions were over Seth was eager for his guest to meet Imogen and, instructing a porter to bring the ornately boxed dress to the suite, he accompanied Celia up to their floor in the elevator.
Wearing skinny jeans that lovingly clung in all the right places and an emerald-green T-shirt that highlighted the alluring curve of her breasts, Imogen answered the door when Seth knocked. Seeing that she’d washed and dried her hair in his absence, he noted how the chestnut-brown ringlets cascaded delightfully down over her shoulders like a magical waterfall from a fairy tale.
A jolt of disturbing awareness ricocheted through his insides as he registered how young she looked. Young, innocent and perhaps too easily taken advantage of...
Quelling the sense of guilt that gripped him, he stood back to introduce the designer. ‘Imogen, this is Celia Bamford, who has designed the dress you’ll be wearing at the ceremony. Celia—this is my fiancée, Imogen.’
Right on cue the porter knocked at the door, and Seth took delivery of the box that contained the all-important wedding finery.
When the man had left, the designer exclaimed, ‘My dear...you’re even lovelier than I’d hoped you’d be!’
Although her exclamation was a tad theatrical, she clasped Imogen to her in what appeared to be genuine delight. When she released her Seth saw the familiar rosy hue that invaded the younger woman’s cheeks and felt immediately protective.
Catching her hand, he pulled her to him and brushed her cheek with his lips. The gesture reminded him of how infinitely soft her skin was. Already he was having withdrawal symptoms because it had been too long since he’d touched her, he realised.
‘She’s telling the truth. You are lovely. I only hope the dress I’ve chosen will do justice to your beauty.’
He heard the soft intake of breath she took just before her cheeks dimpled. ‘People always say nice things about the bride, don’t they? They should spare a compliment or two for the groom.’
Celia nodded in agreement. ‘You’re so right, Imogen. There won’t be one female heart that doesn’t leap with pleasure when they see your handsome husband-to-be dressed in his tux at the wedding.’
‘There won’t be many guests at the ceremony,’ Seth commented soberly. ‘It was a last-minute arrangement.’
‘Oh...’
Beneath her perfectly applied make-up, it was easy to detect the immediate conclusion the designer had come to. She couldn’t know how ironic that was when in fact he hadn’t even bedded Imogen yet... Still, he couldn’t deny that the idea of her carrying his baby was suddenly inexplicably appealing. Why was that? he mused.
‘What a shame that all your friends and family won’t see you both in your finery,’ Celia declared. ‘Still, I’m sure it won’t be long before you can celebrate with them when you get home.’
‘My main concern is that my fiancée gets what she needs. Right now I’m not thinking about anyone else.’
The designer recovered from the blunt statement Seth had made commendably quickly.
Patting down her colourful bob, she remarked, ‘I understand. Of course I do. It’s only right that your focus should be on each other at such an important time. So, if you’d be kind enough to leave Imogen and me for a while, Mr Broden, she can try on the dress and I can start to make any adjustments I need to make.’
‘Good.’
Catching Imogen’s eye with a conspiratorial wink as he started to move towards the door, Seth fervently hoped the dress he’d chosen for her would please her and help her feel especially beautiful on the day they got married...
CHAPTER NINE
IMOGEN HARDLY RECOGNISED the vision that confronted her in the tall boudoir mirror. Was that really her? The wedding dress that Seth had chosen for her was created out of the most delicate ivory French lace, its folds and bodice tastefully decorated with lilac crystals and fragile seed pearls. And, best of all, its design was faithfully vintage.
It was the most feminine and beautiful gown she’d ever seen. The sublime material flowed down her legs to her ankles as effortlessly as a river flowed back to its source and, wearing it, she felt like Titania, queen of the fairies, from A Midsummer’s Night Dream.
‘Your fiancé has an enviable eye for what enhances your beauty, Imogen. Only a man who pays attention to the smallest of details could have selected such a dress for his woman. You look utterly exquisite. It complements your figure perfectly.’