The Princess Bride

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Authors: Diana Palmer
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diverted.
    â€œFor birth control,” he stated flatly, watching her cheeks color. “I’ll take care of it for now. But when we get back from our honeymoon, you make an appointment. I don’t care what you choose, but I want you protected.”
    She felt as if he’d knocked her down and jumped on her feetfirst. “You know a lot about birth control for a bachelor,” she faltered.
    â€œThat’s why I’m still a bachelor,” he replied coldly. He searched her eyes. “Children will be a mutual decision, not yours alone. I hope we’ve clarified that.”
    â€œYou certainly have,” she said.
    â€œI’ll see you at the church tomorrow.” His eyes went over her quickly. “Try to get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a long day and a long trip ahead of us.”
    â€œYes, I will.”
    He touched her hair, but he didn’t kiss her. He laughed again, as if at some cold personal joke. He left her in the hallway without a backward glance. It was a foreboding sort of farewell for a couple on the eve of their wedding, and because of it, Tiffany didn’t sleep at all.

Chapter 7
    T he next day dawned with pouring rain. It was a gloomy morning that made Tiffany even more depressed than she had been to start with. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized herself. She didn’t feel like the old devil-may-care Tiffany who would dare anything to get what she wanted from life. And she remembered with chilling precision the words of an old saying: be careful what you wish for; you might get it.
    She made up her face carefully, camouflaging her paleness and the shadows under her eyes. She dressed in her neat white suit and remembered belatedly that she hadn’t thought to get a bouquet for the occasion. It was too late now. She put on her hat and pulled the thin veil over her eyes, picked up her purse, and went out tojoin her father in the downstairs hall. The house seemed empty and unnaturally quiet, and she wondered what her late mother would have thought of this wedding.
    Harrison, in an expensive dark suit with a white rose in his lapel, turned and smiled at his daughter as she came down the staircase.
    â€œYou look lovely,” he said. “Your mother would have been proud.”
    â€œI hope so.”
    He came closer, frowning as he took her hands and found them ice-cold. “Darling, are you sure this is what you want?” he asked solemnly. “It’s not too late to call it off, you know, even now.”
    For one mad instant, she thought about it. Panic had set in firmly. But she’d gone too far.
    â€œIt will work out,” she said doggedly, and smiled at her father. “Don’t worry.”
    He sighed impotently and shrugged. “I can’t help it. Neither of you looked much like a happy couple over dinner last night. You seemed more like people who’d just won a chance on the guillotine.”
    â€œOh, Dad,” she moaned, and then burst out laughing. “Trust you to come up with something outrageous!”
    He smiled, too. “That’s better. You had a ghostly pallor when you came down the stairs. We wouldn’t want people to mistake this ceremony for a wake.”
    â€œGod forbid!” She took his arm. “Well,” she said, taking a steadying breath, “let’s get it over with.”
    â€œComments like that are so reassuring,” he mutteredto himself as he escorted her out the door and into the white limousine that was to take them to the small church.
    Surprisingly, the parking lot was full of cars when they pulled up at the curb.
    â€œI don’t remember inviting anyone,” she ventured.
    â€œKing probably felt obliged to invite his company people,” he reminded her. “Especially his executive staff.”
    â€œWell, yes, I suppose so.” She waited for the chauffeur to open the door, and she got out gingerly, keenly aware

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