it on. I always think my aunt’s advice should be heeded,” she said, tugging Sawyer away from Jace’s suddenly interested gaze.
Sawyer made herself follow Ash down the hall and into a private room. “I don’t want to try on a dress.”
“This one you do,” Sawyer said. “It’s magic.”
“That’s a myth, a fairy tale.” She’d heard about the dress’s supposedly supernatural qualities and didn’t believe it. “There’s nothing wrong with the dress I have on.”
Ash glanced back at her before opening a closet where a long, white bag hung. “If you’re going to be a runaway bride, at least do it in style. This dress,” she said, pointing to the bag, “exudes style. High fashion, even.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Sawyer said. She wasn’t getting near it, wouldn’t be enticed to even take a peek. “I saw the dress on Rose when she and Galen were married. It’s beautiful and traditional, but not high fashion.”
Ash stared at the bag. “I thought a gown that made every woman beautiful would be considered high fashion.”
“No. It would be considered lucky.”
“Oh,” Ash said, recoiling. “We don’t do lucky in our family. Mysticism and respect and ancient lore, and perhaps a little supernatural wonder, but never luck.”
Sawyer shook her head. “I’m fine wearing what I have on.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it?” Ash asked. “You’ve been rendezvousing with my brother secretly for a long time. You might as well admit you’re in love with him. And when a woman’s in love, she wants to be beautiful on her wedding day.”
Sawyer didn’t know what to say to that outrageous statement. Down the hall, a wedding march played—probably for the couple who’d been waiting in the hall nervously when she and Jace had walked into the chapel.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Ash said. “Give you a chance to collect your thoughts. I won’t be far if you want to do some more sisterly bonding. Feel free to call me if you do.”
She went out, closing the door behind her. Sawyer glared at the garment bag. It wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to try on the gown, which was exactly what Ash wanted. Temptation—the Callahans were very good at temptation.
* * *
“IT MAY BE mission failure,” Ash said, coming to stand next to Jace as he waited anxiously for whatever his bride and sister decided. He was well aware that Sawyer would need to be coaxed into marrying him. He’d seen some reluctant brides in his time, but she seemed to take reticence to a new level. He shook his head as his sister patted his back in sympathy.
“It’s not mission failure. She wants to marry me.” He refused to believe that after all they’d shared, Sawyer didn’t want him. She had to know it wasn’t just sex for him—and yet he was pretty certain that’s what she’d say if he asked her what she thought it was the two of them had going.
He wasn’t about to ask how she defined their relationship.
“She probably thinks you were sowing your wild oats, brother,” Ash said cheerfully. “After all, you never stepped up to the plate meaningfully.”
“Thank you,” he said, “I think I had that much figured out. Now if you can wave your magic wand and tell me how to fix it, I’d be happy to listen to that advice.”
She fluffed her silvery hair, glancing in a mirror that was hanging in the foyer. “You and I may be doomed to never ease our wild hearts.”
He refused to accept that. Sawyer and he had been seeing each other a long time. It had been wild and passionate in the beginning, but then she’d left, and he’d had way too much time to think. To miss her. “What’s she doing? Is she ever coming out of that room? Did you make sure there were no open windows?”
Ash looked at him. “I was trying to talk her into trying on the magic wedding dress.”
He felt his stomach pitch. “Sawyer won’t wear Fiona’s magic wedding dress.”
Ash gave him a look that said he was crazy, and maybe he was. “Of course Sawyer should be married in the Callahan tradition!”
“I can’t believe you dragged that thing all the way here.” Struck by a sudden thought, Jace glanced wildly at the door. “You have no idea the trouble it caused our brothers. In almost every single case, that gown tried to wreck everything.”
Ash gasped. “Jace! That’s not true!”
“It is true.” He remembered tales from their brothers with some horror. One bride hadn’t seen her one true love—as she’d believed she would, according to Fiona’s fairy tale—and had taken off running out the door. That brother had barely been able to get his chosen bride to give the gown a second chance.
Jace had heard other tales, too, and they all made his blood pressure skyrocket with an attack of premonition.
“What about River? The gown saved her in Montana.”
“It’s a trick, a dice roll. A man doesn’t know if the dress is on his side. I don’t need that kind of help.” Jace looked at the door again, debating knocking on it and demanding that Sawyer come out. She’d been in there far too long. “Are you sure there were no windows in there she could open?”
“There may have been one,” Ash said, “but Sawyer isn’t the kind of woman who would ditch you in Vegas.”
“She ditched me, as you say, for the past several months.” His chest felt very heavy with sadness. “You have no idea what I’ve been through with that woman. And now you put her in a room with a diabolical magic wedding dress, and I’m supposed to—”
He glared when the door opened. Sawyer came out, wearing the same clothes she had been before. He looked at her, his breath tight.
“Is it time?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Time?”
“To do this thing.”
Jace swallowed. “Sure. If you’re ready.”
“Are you?”
He’d been ready far longer than he’d realized, but he didn’t want to seem overeager and scare her off. “Better now than never.”
She didn’t look certain, and he shrugged, wanting to give her as much space as possible. With the way she clearly felt about getting married, it could do no good to keep pushing her. They said you could lead a horse to water but not make it drink, and Sawyer was as untamed as the black Diablo mustangs in the canyons around Rancho Diablo.
“I am ready,” she said. “As long as we agree that we’ll revisit this marriage after the babies are born.”
“Revisit it? I’m fine with what we’re doing.” He didn’t like the sound of that at all. He’d heard those cold-footed-bride tales from his brothers, too—and a very merry chase some of their women had led them on.
“I’m
