Forged by Fate

anything.”

“Jean!” One threat made her think of the other, though she had nearly forgotten. “He showed Mia the portraits!”

“Shh.” He laughed again. “Maman told me. He will not behave so foolishly again.”

“I miss all the fun.” Her head was throbbing, but when she felt it, she couldn’t find any lumps. “What I would’ve given to see Adam get thrashed properly.”

He frowned, studying her. “I’m not sure you would’ve seen much of anything, Abby. We think perhaps that was what made you pass out. Is there some connection there we didn’t know about? Unless your corset really is too tight.”

“It doesn’t even have laces.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember any time something similar had happened. Her head was pounding. She couldn’t make any sense of anything over the roaring in her ears. “I think I need some aspirin.”

Garrit put a glass of water in her hand but the rattling of pills in their bottle made her wince.

She grimaced. “Let’s just get married, shall we? And worry about the rest when we don’t have a house full of people to entertain. Or explain the delay to.” She sipped the water and swallowed the pills. “What on earth could Adam have been thinking to show up like that?”

“I thought you just said you wanted to get married first, and worry later.” Garrit helped her to her feet, half-smiling.

She wrinkled her nose. If he was gone, she didn’t have to worry. At least that’s what she told herself. It was an effort not to look out the window to be sure there weren’t any angels descending from the sky.

He brushed a curl of her hair back into place, and looked her over. “No one would ever know you’d fainted if they hadn’t seen it. Tu es ravissante.” One hand on the small of her back, he pulled the door open. “When you’re ready.”

Mia peeked in. “Thank God, Abby! Are you all right? Is the wedding still on? Mum, get Dad.”

“I’m fine, Mia.” She took another deep breath and sighed. “Now that I’ve got my clothing right.”

Garrit chuckled. “Tricky business. Maman will be relieved.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll meet you at the altar.”

Eve nodded, and he walked away.

Mia attached herself to her side. “You should’ve seen Dad’s face when you dropped like that. And Garrit. It seemed like he got to you before you even hit the ground. I’ve never seen a person move that fast. Abby, he was so worried.” Mia led them to the courtyard while she spoke, barely even pausing to breathe. “And what was with that guy who got hustled out right beforehand? Did you see that? Garrit looked furious. Jean would only tell me he wasn’t invited. I know the DeLeons are rich, but are they really so rich they have paparazzi sneaking in and out?”

“I don’t know about paparazzi, no, but I’m sure the press would have liked to cover the wedding.” At least Mia could be counted on to come up with her own explanations. “Do you mind walking down the aisle for a second time?”

Mia grinned. “You’re joking!” She detached from Eve’s side and skipped over to their father. He stood at the back of the assembly again, watching Eve with a look of concern. “Ready, Dad? I think she’ll actually make it this time.”

He offered Eve his arm with a smile. “I hope so. I’m not sure poor Garrit could stand it if we had a second disruption. We wouldn’t want him to take it personally.”

“No, we certainly wouldn’t.” Eve smiled, and then the music began, and Mia moved gracefully down the aisle. Garrit looked at Eve like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, as if nothing had happened to interrupt this moment.

Her father walked her toward him. At the front of the chapel, they stopped together and he kissed her cheek, dashed the moisture from his eyes, and left her to take his seat.

Garrit took her hands in his, and they turned to face the priest together.

“But for Pere Robert speaking of how Eve completed Adam, and that unfortunate business before, I will call it a success.” Rene raised his glass to them and smiled. Drinks had been distributed almost immediately after the ceremony had concluded, the servers weaving through the guests while the chairs were cleared from the dance floor and arranged around tables in preparation for supper. “Felicitations, and best wishes.”

“Merci.” Garrit raised his own glass and took a sip of champagne. The first toast of what was sure to be many. Rene had released the best of his private stock for them, but the majority of the wine was made from DeLeon grapes. Wine-making was one of the few pursuits that hadn’t changed since Ryam’s day. “If you and Maman would do your best to keep Monsieur Watson out of the worst of the drink?”

“Oui, oui. Your maman watches him as the hawk studies the field mouse. Have no fear, Abby. We will see to it.”

“I have no doubt. You DeLeons seem to think of everything.”

“Not everything,” Rene admitted with a sad smile. “Forgive us for earlier, ma cherie. If we had known what it would do to you, we would have taken more care in how we handled your brother.”

Half of the Watson contingent was at the bar which had just been set up in front of the chapel, now closed and barred, the other half were finding their tables. The DeLeons were circulating, greeting each other with enthusiasm and making comments about the minister’s lack of tact. No one who would understand a rapid exchange in French stood near enough to hear.

“About that,” she began. French was one language she never forgot, and she spoke it as fluently as any DeLeon. Not that she hadn’t let Garrit think otherwise, at first. “How exactly did you handle my brother?”

“Knocked him out, of course. We didn’t dare do anything else, or risk more manipulation. One swift blow to the head.” Rene grinned as though he wished he had been the one to deliver it.

“It’s going to make it difficult in the future, won’t it?” Eve asked. “If knocking him out knocks me out, too?”

“My dear girl, brute force is hardly the only defense we have. Don’t worry yourself. As long as you’re here, you’ll be protected.” Rene leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then switched back to English. “I suppose I should meler aux invites, oui? Save me a dance, Abby.”

Garrit wrapped an arm around her waist as his father slipped away to mingle. “He’s right, you know. It’s not worth worrying about.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You get to do the worrying.”

“Not anymore.” He grinned in a predatory fashion she had no trouble interpreting. Garrit liked nothing more than to put his cousins to work. “I’m placing that concern firmly in the hands of the rest of the family while they’re present. As should you. It’s not every generation you get a DeLeon wedding, and have you seen the cake yet? It’s absolutely stunning. Maman was right about the pastry chef. Amazing work.”

She slanted him a narrow look, trying to decide if he meant it. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“A husband’s prerogative.” His grin softened then and he leaned down to kiss her. “Isn’t that a novelty?”

She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it. Just remember, being married isn’t all flowers and kittens.”

“Who said anything about kittens?”

“Puppies then.”

He laughed. “That’s more like it. I thought for a moment you had forgotten that your Watson family is British.”

“My family is Lions, Garrit. I’m a great fan of felines.”

“Were there any European lions left, I’d gladly offer you one as a wedding gift. As it happens, I’m afraid this is the best I can do.” He waved to a man standing just inside the courtyard who stepped forward carrying a puppy. A Belgian Shepherd, she thought, one of the long haired versions, the color of aged bronze and all awkward limbs and wagging tail.