the brief romance she’d shared
with Richard during his first summer home from college. Kyle’s
father had just died and Kyle had been too busy running their mill
to spend time with Richard. So Richard had found another diversion
that summer. Catherine had been married to Richard’s father at the
time, but neither she nor her husband had been privy to the true
nature of Amelia and Richard’s relationship.
Amelia gripped the railing and reminded
herself to breathe, to keep her legs beneath her. Whatever happened
she would keep her chin in the air. She had to convince her guests
and her mother that she was happy, that she wanted to marry Kyle,
and she would die before letting Richard know otherwise.
With that thought in mind Amelia kept her
eyes on Kyle. She told herself it didn’t matter that he was angry
with her, that he was too arrogant and ambitious, that she’d had to
marry him. It could have been worse. It could have been Richard
waiting for her in some clandestine place, shredding her
self-esteem each time he walked away without offering to marry
her.
In that moment, Amelia knew she’d made the
right decision and she was able to appreciate how handsome Kyle
looked in his dark brown suit and starched tan shirt that closed at
his throat with a matching bow tie. He stood tall and proud with
his face lifted toward her as she descended the last steps. But his
dark eyes revealed a hard, guarded businessman who was simply
assuming a burden he felt was his responsibility. And Amelia had
suddenly become an actress in a tragic play.
For her mother’s benefit, Amelia dredged up a
ghost of a smile. She would find a way to be gracious to Richard, a
man she wanted to forget, and to ignore Kyle’s coldness so she
could speak her vows with him. But God help her, she had no idea
how deep she would have to dig to be able to consummate those vows,
or to bridge Kyle’s resentment and make their marriage into more
than a mistake.
Her legs trembled as she and Jeb stepped onto
the parquet floor then moved to stand next to Kyle and Duke. Pastor
Ainslie climbed onto the first stair tread and turned to their
guests. “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”
“Her mother,” Jeb said. “And me.” He placed
Amelia’s hand in Kyle’s waiting palm then stepped back to stand
beside her mother.
Kyle squeezed Amelia’s hand and she jerked
her attention to him. Though she was expected to be sad because of
her father’s recent passing, Amelia knew she had to look at Kyle
with love in her eyes, not dread.
She managed a tremulous smile and he returned
it with an encouraging nod. They turned toward the pastor who asked
her to love, honor, and obey her husband, and Amelia promised she
would and prayed she could. Kyle vowed to love, honor, and protect
his wife, and Amelia silently asked him to add the word
forgive
to his vows.
“Is there anyone present who has a reason to
protest this marriage?” the pastor asked, and Amelia knew she was
going to faint. She couldn’t even breathe as she imagined Richard
lifting his blond head to announce that Amelia was a fraud, that
only a few days ago, she’d been considering the proposition of
becoming his mistress. The silence in the room deepened, lasting an
eternity before the pastor smiled and closed his Bible. “You may
kiss your wife, Mr. Grayson.”
Kyle sealed their vows with a brief kiss.
Amelia pulled back, but summoned a believable smile for her
husband. Her husband. Oh, God. Her stomach wrenched so hard it
nearly doubled her over.
Kyle tightened his grip on her arms and
pulled her close, making it look as if he were kissing her cheek.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded, but she was definitely not all
right. How on earth would she convince her mind and body in the
next few hours that she must become this man’s wife?
“We’ll leave early,” Kyle said, and her
stomach took another wild turn.
“Quit mauling the bride,” Duke said. He and
Lucinda
with Richard during his first summer home from college. Kyle’s
father had just died and Kyle had been too busy running their mill
to spend time with Richard. So Richard had found another diversion
that summer. Catherine had been married to Richard’s father at the
time, but neither she nor her husband had been privy to the true
nature of Amelia and Richard’s relationship.
Amelia gripped the railing and reminded
herself to breathe, to keep her legs beneath her. Whatever happened
she would keep her chin in the air. She had to convince her guests
and her mother that she was happy, that she wanted to marry Kyle,
and she would die before letting Richard know otherwise.
With that thought in mind Amelia kept her
eyes on Kyle. She told herself it didn’t matter that he was angry
with her, that he was too arrogant and ambitious, that she’d had to
marry him. It could have been worse. It could have been Richard
waiting for her in some clandestine place, shredding her
self-esteem each time he walked away without offering to marry
her.
In that moment, Amelia knew she’d made the
right decision and she was able to appreciate how handsome Kyle
looked in his dark brown suit and starched tan shirt that closed at
his throat with a matching bow tie. He stood tall and proud with
his face lifted toward her as she descended the last steps. But his
dark eyes revealed a hard, guarded businessman who was simply
assuming a burden he felt was his responsibility. And Amelia had
suddenly become an actress in a tragic play.
For her mother’s benefit, Amelia dredged up a
ghost of a smile. She would find a way to be gracious to Richard, a
man she wanted to forget, and to ignore Kyle’s coldness so she
could speak her vows with him. But God help her, she had no idea
how deep she would have to dig to be able to consummate those vows,
or to bridge Kyle’s resentment and make their marriage into more
than a mistake.
Her legs trembled as she and Jeb stepped onto
the parquet floor then moved to stand next to Kyle and Duke. Pastor
Ainslie climbed onto the first stair tread and turned to their
guests. “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”
“Her mother,” Jeb said. “And me.” He placed
Amelia’s hand in Kyle’s waiting palm then stepped back to stand
beside her mother.
Kyle squeezed Amelia’s hand and she jerked
her attention to him. Though she was expected to be sad because of
her father’s recent passing, Amelia knew she had to look at Kyle
with love in her eyes, not dread.
She managed a tremulous smile and he returned
it with an encouraging nod. They turned toward the pastor who asked
her to love, honor, and obey her husband, and Amelia promised she
would and prayed she could. Kyle vowed to love, honor, and protect
his wife, and Amelia silently asked him to add the word
forgive
to his vows.
“Is there anyone present who has a reason to
protest this marriage?” the pastor asked, and Amelia knew she was
going to faint. She couldn’t even breathe as she imagined Richard
lifting his blond head to announce that Amelia was a fraud, that
only a few days ago, she’d been considering the proposition of
becoming his mistress. The silence in the room deepened, lasting an
eternity before the pastor smiled and closed his Bible. “You may
kiss your wife, Mr. Grayson.”
Kyle sealed their vows with a brief kiss.
Amelia pulled back, but summoned a believable smile for her
husband. Her husband. Oh, God. Her stomach wrenched so hard it
nearly doubled her over.
Kyle tightened his grip on her arms and
pulled her close, making it look as if he were kissing her cheek.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded, but she was definitely not all
right. How on earth would she convince her mind and body in the
next few hours that she must become this man’s wife?
“We’ll leave early,” Kyle said, and her
stomach took another wild turn.
“Quit mauling the bride,” Duke said. He and
Lucinda
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