The great hall of the island estate had never looked more magnificent. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the marble floors. Flowers from the private gardens spilled from every surface, white orchids and red hibiscus and the pale jasmine that reminded Amber of Rajasthan. The French doors stood open to the terrace, where the setting sun painted the sea in shades of gold and rose.

Amber stood at the center of it all, one hand resting on the curve of her belly, the other holding a glass of sparkling water. She was seven months pregnant now, her body lush and radiant, her dark hair swept up in an elegant twist. She wore a gown of deep emerald silk that clung to her breasts and flowed over her belly like water. At her throat, the gold chain from Bali glimmered. On her finger, her grandmother's ruby sat beside her wedding band.