The organ launched into the processional, and Sugar Beth’s teeth began to chatter. “I’m not walking down that aisle until you peek around the corner and make sure he’s there.”
“He has to be. If he weren’t, Ryan would-”
“I don’t want to hear another word about Ryan!” she hissed. “Your husband has reason to hate me, too. He’s probably in on the whole thing.”
“True.” Winnie lifted her bouquet. “And then there’s me.” With those ominous words, she stepped around the corner and disappeared down the aisle.
The music swelled. Sugar Beth straightened her shoulders and fought her fear. As she made her way around the corner, the congregation rose, temporarily blocking her view of the altar. She clutched the bouquet more tightly, her palms sweaty. Four husbands! What kind of fool got married for the fourth time?
A sea of faces turned toward her, three hundred of them, but not the one she most needed to see. Until she took her place at the end of the aisle… There he was, with Ryan at his side, both men dressed in black tuxedos. Colin wore his as comfortably as other men wore jeans. The tucked white shirt gleamed against his tan face, which was thinner and more angular than when she’d last seen him. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d had trouble eating. The knowledge gave her just enough indignant satisfaction to propel her down the aisle.
Colin’s heart swelled as he watched Sugar Beth approach him. She was dressed entirely in black. He chuckled, and for the first time in nearly two months, he began to relax.
Her gown was beautiful despite its color. Long, slim, and strapless, it had diagonal panels of tiny black beads that grew wider as they reached the hem. She floated toward him, exquisite in form, countenance, and movement, her blond hair and smooth white shoulders rising from the gown like foam from a stormy sea. The brittleness she’d worn like a second skin when she’d first come to Parrish had broken away. She was softer, more exquisite, more precious to him than he’d ever imagined, but the perilous flash of silver in those pale blue eyes reminded him of what a dangerous game he’d been playing. And it wasn’t over yet.
She stopped at his side and passed over the bouquet to Winnie. He took her hands. They were cold as ice, but his weren’t much warmer.
The ceremony began. He’d have preferred writing his own vows, ones that spoke more personally to the depth of his feelings for this magnificent woman, but then she would have had to write hers, too, and he hadn’t trusted her not to curse. Browbeating her was the only way he’d known to slay the dragon that had held this princess as a prisoner for far too long. They belonged together, and he’d been determined to put her out of her misery as quickly as possible.
The minister’s voice broke into his thoughts. Pastor Daniels was a traditionalist, and it hadn’t occurred to him that he should modify the ceremony.
“Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?”
There was a long pause. The congregation began to stir uneasily. Colin frowned. Ryan smiled and stepped forward. “I do.”
The pastor came to his senses after that and quickly deleted the
The vows followed. Sugar Beth spoke hers flatly, almost angrily. He understood. She’d lost faith in vows, and this particular ceremony held a lot of unhappy memories for her. Still, it had to be done.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, something to be endured rather than cherished. She had a ring for him, which was a surprise, a simple white gold wedding band. He slipped a perfect two-and-a-half-carat diamond on her finger. She wasn’t a woman for subtlety.
More vows and the pronouncement. “You may kiss the bride.”
He gazed down at her and, as he drew close, whispered against her lips, “Don’t bite.”
She didn’t. But she didn’t really kiss him back either.
Ryan and Winnie whisked them to Frenchman’s Bride for the reception. The white tent had billows of net at the entrance and a swagged ceiling. Crisp linens draped with sheer gold overskirts covered the tables, each of which displayed a trailing centerpiece of lilies, hyacinths, and ivy. Long serving tables held platters of lobster tails, crab claws, and shrimp, along with an assortment of hot and cold dishes. He couldn’t imagine how Winnie and the Seawillows had managed to do all this so quickly or how he would ever thank them properly. There was no band, no dancing. Winnie knew he and Sugar Beth needed to get through this reception as quickly as possible so they could be alone. He watched Sugar Beth bypass a tower of chocolate-dipped cream puffs for the relish tray. He frowned.
The guests seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to protect him because no one suggested he and Sugar Beth stand still for wedding photographs, and not a single person tapped a knife on a water goblet to encourage them to kiss. When it came time for the wedding cake to be cut, Winnie jumped up with a panic-stricken expression and said she and Ryan would do the honors. Only Cubby Bowmar seemed disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see Colin’s face decorated with vanilla fondant.
Sugar Beth spent most of the reception with either the Seawillows or Gigi and her teenage friends. Finally, Winnie drew her away to throw her bouquet, and Sugar Beth aimed right for Jewel, which he thought was a nice touch. No one mentioned a garter ceremony.
As it came time to leave, Winnie retrieved the pearls Sugar Beth had been wearing. “You can’t take them back!” his outraged wife exclaimed. “That’s what I want for my wedding present.”
“Forget it. I have more important plans for these.” Winnie kissed her cheek and slipped the pearls into her bag. “Your present will be waiting when you get back from your honeymoon.”
“What honeymoon?”
Winnie pushed her toward Colin.
Eventually, he was able to get her to his car, which had been decorated with white streamers and a sign on the passenger door that read
The interior of the car grew tomblike. Sugar Beth stared straight ahead. Colin tried to think of something to say, but he hadn’t slept well in weeks. Most nights he’d stayed at his computer till dawn, caught a few hours of rest, then gotten up and begun to write again. Except for a weekly trip to a convenience store, he’d seen no one. He’d forgotten to shave, forgotten to eat. Occasionally he’d subjected himself to brutal day-long hikes in the desert, hoping the exertion would wear him out enough so he could sleep for more than two hours at a stretch, but it seldom worked. He’d had no taste for food, no taste for much of anything except writing and torturing himself with thoughts of Sugar Beth.
They passed the Quik Stop, and she finally broke the silence. “What honeymoon?”
“I considered the Virgin Islands, but for now I think it’s better if we just head to the lake. Amy and Clint have given us their cottage for the night. Why were you eating cauliflower?”
Her gown gave an angry rustle. “Tell me where you’ve been for two months.”
“A little adobe house I rented outside Taos. Three rooms near an aspen grove. Simple but serviceable.”
“You look tired. And you’ve lost weight.”
He heard concern in her voice-a chink in the armor of her resentment-and his fatigue instantly vanished. “I’m exhausted. Tired to the bone.” He gave a weary sigh and studied her reaction through the corner of his eye. “It’s been an extraordinarily difficult two months. I haven’t been well at all.”
“Probably suffering from overacting disease.”
He smiled and turned his head to drink in that perfect face. “Do you hate it so very much? Being married to me?”
Her eyes flashed. “We didn’t even sign a prenup! And I’m a wealthy woman.”
“Are you worried, then?”
“Of course I’m worried! I just got married for the
“You have a great deal of common sense, not to mention an exquisite body… which I intend to enjoy to the fullest as soon as possible.”
“Good, because sex is the only reason I’m going along with this.”
“I understand.”
They remained silent for the rest of the trip to the lake. She seemed resigned, if not overjoyed, and the
