Three Weddings and a Murder by Courtney Milan, Tessa Dare, Carey Baldwin, Leigh LaValle Page B

embrace. Silk bunched between their bodies.
    “My gown…”
    “Damn the gown.” He yanked her closer, fisting his hands in the crumpling fabric. “Curse this ceremony. Merrivale can go to the devil. You’re coming away with me. Right now.”
    “But I couldn’t,” she protested. “Everything’s arranged. They’re all waiting on me.”
    “My phaeton’s still at the mews. We’ll head north immediately and be wed in Scotland. I’ll even let you drive, from time to time. It will be the first of our many adventures.”
    “I like the thought of adventure.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. “But I don’t want to elope. Ever since I was a girl, I always dreamed of a grand church wedding. I’ve already missed my debut. I can’t give up that, too.”
    His expression was wounded. “I can’t believe it. You’d choose the wedding of your dreams over the man you love?”
    She smiled. “No, no. I want the wedding of my dreams to the man I love. I keep trying to explain to you, this isn’t what you think. Harry, I’m not—”
    “Eliza?” A light voice floated from the adjoining room. “Is something wrong? I thought you were bringing my flowers.”
    “I was, dear,” Eliza called in a loud, clear voice, holding Harry’s gaze all the while. “I was bringing you your flowers, for your wedding to Colonel Merrivale.” She gave Harry a sly wink. “But Mr. Wright must explain what happened to them.”
    She probably shouldn’t have taken so much satisfaction in watching Harry’s face go from determined to absolutely blank. But he’d gotten the better of her so many times. Turning the tables this once was immensely satisfying.
    “This isn’t your wedding?” he asked slowly, looking about the church with new eyes, as though he’d just awoken in a strange location and had no idea how he’d landed there.
    “No. This isn’t my wedding.”
    “When I stopped by your town house and asked for you, they told me everyone had gone to the church for Miss Cade’s—”
    “Miss Cade’s wedding. And so we did, yes. Georgie is the eldest unmarried sister. She’s still Miss Cade, and I’m still Miss Eliza. For the next quarter hour, that is.”
    “Georgina?” He glanced toward the anteroom. “That’s her in there? I thought she was brokenhearted after her beau died. Resolved to never love again.”
    “She was, the poor thing. But time did its part in helping heal her wounds. Colonel Merrivale’s kind attention was a balm, as well. He’s a good man, Harry. Very steady and kind, and that’s what she needs now. I’m so happy for her. And I’m…” Happy was too weak a word. “…overjoyed to see you here. Home safe. Won’t you kiss me, please?”
    “Gladly.”
    He pulled her into a kiss that started out tender, but quickly became urgent. Their lips and tongues reveled in the joy of reacquaintance. Desire swelled between their bodies; she felt it settling to a tense, familiar ache in her breasts and between her thighs. Images of their night together flashed vivid in her memory. She recalled every taste, every touch, every heated glance and word.
    His hoarse groan told her he remembered, too.
    “Marry me today,” he said. “We can secure a license in a trice and have a double wedding. Surely your sister won’t object to a small delay while we—”
    Eliza shook her head. “I would object. This is Georgie’s wedding, Georgie’s day. I want her to have that. And enough of my selfish younger self remains that I want to have that, too—a wedding day just for us, even if it’s not so lavish.”
    “Why couldn’t our wedding be lavish?”
    “Because you’re penniless, of course.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she shushed him with a quick, tender kiss. “I don’t mind, Harry. Truly, I don’t. I’ve come a long way from a young girl who wanted new gowns for every day of the week and a carriage drawn by four white ponies.”
    “I don’t