when the bride hiked up her skirts and took a fast powder.
The gathering only seemed crowded because every chair was filled, the room stuffed with people, yet the guests couldn’t number much over thirty. She knew every face. They were either Fortunes or related kin—none of her own family, because she had none...not anymore—but God knew the Fortunes had taken her in as if she were part of their clan. Everyone knew when and how she’d gotten into trouble. Everyone had gone out of their way to stand by her, and their choosing to attend the wedding was another measure of that support.
An already catastrophic situation just kept getting worse. Undoubtedly they were expecting to attend the usual nice, peaceful, happy ceremony. Instead all they were going to get was a mortified bride running helter-skelter into a snowstorm. In cream satin shoes and no coat.
Kate gripped her arm more securely, urging her forward, yet her hold was never really that tight. Kelly knew she could shake free. It was just a matter of picking her moment. This marriage wasn’t just a mistake. It was a mistake the size of an earthquake. Maybe she’d have to leave the country under an assumed name to live this down, but she simply couldn’t go through with it.
But then this strange thing happened.
It wasn’t as if the minister or Kate’s grip or the whole sea of faces instantly disappeared...but her gaze suddenly locked on the groom.
Mackenzie Fortune.
Mac.
His shoulders looked beam-broad in the black tux, his height towering, his thick hair darker than charcoal and shot with silver at the sideburns. Black suited him, the same way it would suit a pirate. His angular face was set with strong bones and an elegant mouth and a no-nonsense square chin.
Nobody messed with Mac. The lean, mean build had nothing to do with it. He was a business man, not a pirate dependent on brawn to get his way. She’d never heard him raise his voice, never seen him angry, but he had a way of silencing a whole room when he strode in. Those shrewd, deep-set green eyes could cut through chatter faster than a blade. The life lines bracketing his eyes and mouth reflected an uncompromising nature, a man who loved a challenge and never backed down from a fight. Mac was a hunk, but he was also one intimidatingly scary dude—at least for a woman who was uncomfortable around powerful men.
A year before, Kelly had been wildly, blindly, exuberantly in love. The father of her baby had been an incredibly exciting man. A man she believed in heart and soul. A man she would have done anything for, anytime, anywhere, no questions asked—and unfortunately, had.
Mac wasn’t the man she’d been in love with.
He wasn’t the father of her baby.
He was just the groom.
But his gaze met hers with the directness of a sharp, clear laser beam as if no one else were in that room but the two of them. He didn’t smile—but that look of his immediately affected the panicked beat of her pulse. She was unsure what the dark, fathomless expression in his eyes meant, but that wasn’t news. She was unsure of nearly everything about Mac, but she promptly forgave herself for the wild panic attack. Surely it was understandable. Normally a woman would have to be crazy to marry a relative stranger, but nothing about Kelly’s life right now was normal. For a few moments there, she’d just selfishly forgotten what mattered—and it wasn’t her.
If there was a man on the planet who could protect her baby, it was Mac Fortune.
Nothing else mattered to her or even came close.
She took a breath for courage, plastered on a smile and walked up the aisle to her groom.
At thirty-eight, Mac had no belief in magic, but he’d always felt a certain kinship with Houdini. He understood how much hard work it took to become an accomplished escape artist. For Mac, it had taken ceaseless determination and unfaltering resolve and downright dedication to escape marriage all these years—particularly when the family never stopped hounding him to tie the knot. More than a few women had chased him—most were more interested in a key to the Fortune money than in him personally, but that hadn’t bothered Mac. He had always respected both greed and ambition. He’d enjoyed being chased. Hell, he enjoyed women. He just happened to have a violent allergy to marriage.
Kelly had almost reached the edge of the red velvet carpet when Mac saw her stumble. She didn’t trip, but he could see the stress swimming in her eyes. Without hesitation, he swiftly stepped forward and grabbed her hand. The minister’s brow furrowed in a repressive little frown, silently letting Mac know that he’d broken with protocol in this shindig. Apparently the groom wasn’t supposed to put his mitts on the bride at this point in the proceedings. Reaching out to grab her wasn’t in the program.
Tough. Kelly looked fragile enough to keel over. Ghosts had more color. And judging from the sweat dampening his bride’s shaky palm, she was even less thrilled by this marriage than he was. The humorous thought crossed his mind that at least they had a couple of things in common. Neither wanted this wedding.
And neither had seen any way out of it.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister began in a sonorous drone.
Mac tuned out. Keeping his fingers curled in hers, he mentally calculated how soon they could escape this circus. The ceremony couldn’t take more than fifteen minutes? And then they were on the hook to stick around for the champagne feast Kate had put together. But the blizzard forecast would surely cut this short for everyone. In less than two hours, with any luck, they could be driving home—long before the clock struck midnight and brought in the new year.
He felt eyes on his back. Watching him, studying him. At any wedding, the groom and bride were obviously the focus of attention, but Mac was well aware these circumstances were different. As vice president of Finance for the Fortune Corporation for almost a decade, his job had often been to bail the business—or the family—out of trouble. The clan was long on love and loyalty, but big money still made for big problems and big disagreements as well. If there was a problem that could cause embarrassment, someone had to make the boo-boo disappear. When everyone else was freaked out and wringing their hands, Mac had a long history for taking charge and doing what had to be done.
This time, though, they weren’t so sure of him.
He’d announced two weeks ago that he was going to marry her. It was the first time he’d ever seen the family stunned to silence. Part of that silence was relief—the problem of Kelly was no secret, but no one could agree on solutions. Even for a family who would he, cheat and steal for each other—and sometimes, unfortunately, took loyalty just that far—nobody had considered that marriage was an optional solution for this crisis, much less for Mac. They knew about his allergy. They couldn’t believe he meant it. They still weren’t dead positive he’d go through with it.
Kelly’s hand suddenly squeezed his. He glanced down. For an instant he caught the tiniest hint of humor in her eyes. “The ring,” the minister prompted. From the highpitched crack in Reverend Lowry’s voice, Mac suspected he’d missed his cue at least once.
His cousin Garrett Fortune, thankfully, was prepared to do the best-man job, and quickly palmed him the ring. Mac reached for Kelly’s left hand. The slim gold band was almost microscopic—hardly appropriate for a Fortune bride. But he’d offered Kelly any size carat rock she wanted, and she’d balked. She wanted no jewels and particularly no stones with a Fortune heritage—probably because it was Fortune money that had heaped this whole mess on her head.
Yet
