He'd grown up learning to duck from his father's loose fists. He'd invariably been protected by one of his brothers and witnessed them getting a dose of physical violence, but none more so shocking than his beautiful older sister, Annabelle, the day their father had whipped her mercilessly, leaving her with permanent scars. He'd been too small to step in and help her and that sense of ineffectualness had stuck with him, heightening his sense of isolation. And his sense of fear that perhaps he couldn't protect his own child.

When they'd bought his suit for the wedding, he'd led Aneesa to a well-known designer shop on Bond Street, but on the threshold she'd pulled back and he'd looked down to see her face, puce with embarrassment. He'd frowned. He would have thought she'd have been running in, eager to indulge. But when she'd refused to budge she'd finally admitted, ‘I don't have enough money to pay for a dress here. Let's go somewhere else. Please.'


And gruffly, he'd assured her that he'd intended to pay for her outfit, but still, she hadn't budged until he'd promised to let her pay him back.

She'd been quick and economical, settling on a knee- length champagne-coloured dress that had swirled around her like a diaphanous cloud, with a clever empire line to disguise her swelling belly. And a short gold blazer jacket to go over it.

When he'd seen her emerge from the changing room and how much delectable silky olive-skinned cleavage was revealed in the dress, he'd had to bite back the urge to insist on a less revealing dress. But she'd looked so shyly pleased that he hadn't had the heart to say anything.


It was only when they'd been headed back to the apartment that he'd realised how much he'd genuinely enjoyed the afternoon when he normally abhorred shopping, and how little he'd been thinking of the upcoming wedding. Especially when he'd made a vow not to see his brother Jacob ever again.



But right now, with Aneesa by his side, the prospect wasn't half as daunting as he would have imagined.

On the morning of Nathaniel's wedding, Aneesa woke up and rolled over in the bed. Lying on her back, looking at the ceiling, she didn't need to feel the bed beside her to know that Sebastian hadn't joined her last night.

He'd been out indulging in his punishing exercise regime again, swimming or punching a bag, or running—she didn't know which. His rising tension as they'd approached the wedding had had a direct effect on Aneesa, to the point where his pacing in the living room last night had irritated her so much that she'd announced that his hair was too long and had made him sit down in the bathroom so she could give him a haircut.

He'd sat as meekly as a child while she'd moved around him, cutting his hair short, the way it had been when she'd first met him. When she was almost finished, he'd asked her gruffly, ‘Where did you learn to do this?'

‘My mother always cuts my father's hair. She taught me years ago.'

Their eyes had met in the bathroom mirror and she'd said drily but with a pain in her heart, ‘It's just a haircut, Sebastian, don't worry. I'm not binding you to me for ever with some mystical Indian ceremony.'

But the truth was, she had found it more than a little erotic and all too easy to indulge in a fantasy of things being different. She'd never known what an intimate thing it was to cut someone's hair; perhaps it was because the other person was somewhat vulnerable. She'd always felt a little like a voyeur when she'd watched her mother tend to her father like that.

But afterwards Sebastian had got up and said an abrupt

thanks and had all but run out, leaving Aneesa standing there holding the scissors, surrounded by hair. She'd felt like calling after him for a tip.

What she didn't know was that Sebastian had gone straight to his study where he'd poured himself a generous


measure of whisky and downed it in one gulp. His hands hadn't been steady, the experience of having his hair cut by her affecting him more profoundly than he liked to admit.

Handing himself over to Aneesa like that—having her caress his head, push it forward, tilt it back and to the side … running her fingers through his hair to judge where to cut, massaging his scalp … feeling the tantalising brush of her breast against his body—it had been all he could do to just sit there and not yank her round to sit on his lap and sate the fire burning in his loins.

Since when was getting a haircut erotic? And yet at the same time deliciously soporific? For the first time in a couple of days, since he'd decided to go to the wedding, she'd once again managed to distract him and shut out the clamour in his head

… and he hated the feeling of vulnerability that gave him. The sense that, on some level, he needed her.

The elusive lure of losing himself in hard-core exercise had come to his rescue for the first time in days and he'd escaped to the pool where he'd swum himself to a point of exhaustion, finally falling asleep on a lounger by the pool as dawn broke outside.

Sebastian had told Aneesa that they would stay at his hotel the night of the wedding, so she'd prepared a small overnight bag, and when she emerged to the main reception area of the apartment there were butterflies in her belly to see the back of the tall, impossibly broad-shouldered figure of Sebastian in a steel-grey morning suit.

He'd been talking to Nathaniel on the phone and had agreed to be his groomsman. Apparently Nathaniel hadn't wanted a best man, and they were eschewing the traditional pomp and speeches for an informal late lunch after the ceremony. Sebastian turned around slowly now, increasing the butterflies in Aneesa's belly, and then she wondered if she was feeling the baby move for the first time?

But when his eyes hungrily took her in she forgot everything under his intense gaze. He'd seen the dress in the shop already, surely he liked it? She suddenly felt very


insecure.

‘Is it OK? It's not too short?' She pulled ineffectually at the dress and jacket.

‘No,' Sebastian said curtly. ‘It's fine.'

It was more than fine; she was quite simply the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. A vision in gold and soft champagne. Her skin was glowing. Her long black hair was down and she'd teased it into sleek movie-star waves. And her feet were encased in vertiginous gold sandals that drew the eye to her slender but stupendously shapely legs.

He frowned. ‘Can you walk in those?'

She stuck one leg out and he had to bite back a groan. ‘I'll be fine,' she said breezily. ‘One thing the movies and being a beauty queen has taught me is how to stand around for hours in high heels.'

He held out a hand. ‘We'd better get going—' he smiled grimly ‘—wouldn't want to be late, now, would we?'

She came forward with a determined glint in her eye and took his hand, making his chest lurch. ‘No, we wouldn't.'

The marriage ceremony was taking place in the small Unitarian church just beside the Grand Wolfe Hotel, which was huge and impressive—exuding a classic timelessness that Aneesa could recognise was Sebastian's trademark signature style.

Aneesa stood on her own for much of the service as

Sebastian stood alongside his brother. She recognised famous Hollywood actor Nathaniel, of course; his hair was dark like Sebastian's but longer. When he'd turned to greet Sebastian the two men had just looked at each other for a long intense moment before hugging fiercely. And with awful predictability emotional tears had pricked Aneesa's eyes.

Nathaniel's bride, Katie, was stunning in a beautiful long ivory gown with antique diamante details just below her bust and at the shoulders of the straps of the dress, showing off her slender willowy frame. A mass of brown curls was drawn up and away from her face, highlighting a long neck and the most amazing green eyes Aneesa had ever seen.


Aneesa had spotted who she assumed to be Sebastian's other brothers ahead of her by a few pews. They all cut tall intimidating figures. One she guessed had to be Jacob, as he looked the most austere. She'd caught a glimpse of his dark eyes when he'd turned to watch the bride walk down the aisle, and they'd been intense.

In the flurry of activity once the ceremony was over, Aneesa was surprised when Sebastian reached for her hand and pulled her from the pew so that she could walk with him up the aisle. She felt the fierceness of his grip and squeezed his hand silently, telling him that she understood, touched by his obvious desire to have her by his side. Once again that dangerous tendril of hope unfurled inside her and she had to dampen it down.

There were paparazzi everywhere outside, like a baying mob, being held back by a cordon of security men. But Sebastian had them whisked inside the hotel in minutes, and after checking with his manager that everything was running smoothly, they made their way to the main reception room.

Sebastian first introduced Aneesa to his sister, Annabelle, who Aneesa realised had been the photographer in the church and outside. She was beautiful—tall and slim, dressed with impeccably smart taste, with long wavy blond hair and grey eyes which swirled with emotion. Instinctively Aneesa guessed Annabelle wouldn't want people to see that and felt a small bond form between them, and was touched when Annabelle congratulated them on the pregnancy.

And then in no particular order she was introduced to the happy couple, who only had eyes for each other, and two other brothers, Lucas and Rafael, who'd been polite and inquisitive. Lucas's girlfriend, Grace, had been there also, tall with blond hair. Rafael, however, had shown that sparky Wolfe trait she was coming to know so well when Sebastian had asked after his wife, Leila. Rafael's black eyes had flashed warningly as he'd issued a curtly succinct, ‘She couldn't make it.'