Honor-Bound Groom by Yvonne Lindsay Page B

she’d ended up with. She knew better than most that life was no bed of roses. The only child of parents who’d loved passionately and fought bitterly, she’d seen what a push-me-pull-you state marriage could be. And she’d experienced firsthand the pain that ensued when such a marriage irrevocably broke down.
    But at least her parents had enjoyed many years together before the cracks had started to show. It was more than what her immediate future held, unless she was fortunate enough for a fertilization procedure to work on the first attempt. If she could fill her life with a child then she could quite possibly manage to be happy.
    Loren was unfamiliar with the building they now approached. A cluster of paparazzi was waiting at the entrance. Of fairly recent style, it was a large sprawling construction set in lush gardens and toward the back she caught a glimpse of what looked like playing fields. Was this some kind of school? She wondered what del Castillo family tradition called for a bride and groom to visit a school the morning after their wedding.
    She recognized the family coat of arms carved into the lintel above the door but aside from that one claim of ownership there was nothing about the building to tell her of its purpose. At least not until they set footinside. Muffled giggles and shushing sounds came from behind closed doors.
    Children? At school on a weekend?
    Alex laced his fingers through hers and Loren closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to quell the sudden surge of electricity that flared across her skin at his touch. The double doors ahead of them opened and, as they walked into what appeared to be a small auditorium followed closely by the media contingent, the air filled with the sound of children’s voices in song.
    Loren couldn’t hold back a smile as the pure notes swirled joyfully around them.
    â€œWho are they?” she whispered to Alex.
    â€œOrphans, for the most part. Some are from families who cannot afford to feed and clothe them. They are the lucky ones for at least they have someone.”
    As the song drew to a close, one little girl separated from the bunch. In her hands she clutched a colorful bouquet of flowers. The caregiver behind her gave an encouraging little push in Loren’s direction, but as the child drew closer a barrage of camera flashes filled the air and she tripped and started to fall forward. Loren reached out and caught the little girl before she could face-plant on the hard wooden floor. Some of the flowers, however, did not fare as well and when the child saw their snapped-off heads her lower lip began to wobble.
    â€œAre these for me?” Loren asked, setting the child on her feet and kneeling down in front of her, ignoring the rapid-fire clicks and whirs of the shutters of the cameras trained on them.
    The girl nodded shyly, one tear spilling from her lower lid and tracking slowly down a chubby cheek.
    â€œThank you, they’re beautiful.” Loren bent forwardand kissed her on the forehead. “And look, here’s a flower just for you.”
    Placing the bouquet gently on the floor beside her, Loren pinched off one of the damaged blooms and tucked it behind the little girl’s ear, securing it there with one of the pins from her own hair.
    With both disaster, and further tears, averted, the little girl happily scampered back to her group.
    â€œNicely done,” Alex murmured in her ear as he helped Loren rise to her feet.
    She hoped he didn’t see how his praise affected her, and that he missed the fine tremor that shook the bouquet she now held in her hands as if it was her most precious possession.
    The rest of the morning passed uneventfully as she and Alex shared tea with the children and sat through a delightful series of performances. They were then led on a tour of the orphanage and Loren felt her heart break as she was shown the nurseries and the babies there. Under Alex’s silent gaze, she took the