Kidnapping His Bride. Hayley Gardner
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Through the closed door to the sanctuary, she could hear her grandmother, Sadie, who had taken her in when she’d been more or less orphaned at age twelve, playing the opening notes of the next to the last song before the “Wedding March.” Focus. She needed to focus. So she concentrated on the music, and how happy she would be—
“Was leaving me off the invitation list my brother’s idea—or yours?”
Not having heard the front door to the church brush open over the carpet behind her, Tessa jumped at the voice. Realizing whom it belonged to, she whirled around with a little gasp, her petticoats and satin skirt rustling back into place as she met the gaze of the man who had once played the leading role in all her dreams of being a bride. Griff. Clay’s brother. Her former fiancé. She’d ended their engagement years before when she’d finally figured out that he’d be happier flying planes in the Air Force than stuck here in Claiborne Landing with her. To see him here, now, was totally unexpected, as was the physical attraction that slammed right into her stomach and edged down to her knees, making them weak. Exasperated that she could still feel anything for him, even physically, after having gone on with her life, she mustered up some gumption.
“For years on end you don’t come home, and you expected an invitation?” she asked, purposely keeping her voice low so no one would come see whom she was talking to. “We figured you’d send your regrets. That you’d already be busy climbing in some pyramid. Or maybe flying off to see an ancient Greek ruin or some French art museum. Don’t tell me you’re calling a halt to your traveling before seeing all the Seven Wonders of the World?”
“Maybe,” he drawled out, “I figured seeing Tessa Blake getting married without love, and to my brother, might qualify as the Eighth. At least, you got me wondering.”
“How did you know that?” As soon as the sentence was out of her mouth, she realized she’d just about verified the “marrying without love” part. It figured. She could never hide anything from Griff. That’s why she tried to avoid him whenever he was in town for a visit. Mostly it had worked, except for that one time two years ago when she’d run into him, and spoken up when she shouldn’t have. But she didn’t want to dwell on the past.
“Someone told you about the wedding and that I wasn’t in love?” she asked.
“And more, via e-mail.”
More? She gulped. Already panicked, she was now feeling almost light-headed. “What more?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not important.”
Not important to him maybe. Tessa took a slow, deep breath and tried to relax. If Griff knew the worst, he would not be that nonchalant.
“Who was this e-mail from?”
“I honestly don’t know. The address was [email protected].” The muscle in his jaw throbbed. “You didn’t send it, did you?”
“No!”
He believed her; she could tell by his solemn look.
“None of that is important right now,” he said. “What is, is that you don’t make the mistake of your life by walking down that aisle.” He took a step closer to her, and Tessa backed up until she was almost at the still-closed door to the sanctuary. The last thing she wanted on the day she was getting married was to be this close to Griff. Even though her brain had written him a goodbye letter after he’d made her heart freeze up, it was like she’d forgotten to send a copy to the rest of her body. They hadn’t been this close for years.
So many years.
“You have to leave,” she said with as much authority as she could muster, not about to get into what kind of mistake she was about to make—or not. “I’m going to be getting married in about two minutes.”
“So you say.” Griff stared solemnly around the foyer, at the small, antique bookcase to one side and at the steep stairwell leading up to the classroom where they’d had Sunday School classes as children. “There’s no one here to walk you down the aisle and give you away. Want me to?”
“No, Griff. You’re the past. My future is on the other side of this door, and that’s where I’m going. Alone.”
He lifted his fingertips, brushed back a ringlet at her temple and then slid them slowly down the curve of her cheek, sending a shiver through her. “You swore to me a couple of years back you were going to have your dream, Tessa,” he reminded her, his voice getting under her skin and reaching into her heart. “I’m here to make sure you don’t give up on it.”
Her dream? Then she remembered. The last time they’d really talked, during one of his rare visits “home,” Griff had asked her why she’d never gotten married. She’d told him she wouldn’t, not unless she fell in love, and that hadn’t happened yet. That just as Griff had given up everything, including her, to pursue his dream, she was determined to have hers of a loving husband and children. The perfect family she’d never had, in the perfect home and hometown she hadn’t had until her father had abandoned her, her mother had died, and the authorities had finally found Sadie. Griff was here to make sure she didn’t give up on that dream. But how could he do that? They were through.
“You walked away years ago, remember?” she asked. Her heart, already beating swiftly, pounded at his nearness. The woodsy scent he was wearing began to penetrate her defenses and cloud her thoughts. “You shouldn’t care at this point.”
“I shouldn’t care,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving her, “but I know how much pain a loveless marriage can cause—for both sides. I don’t want you, or my brother, to have to go through that. And then there’s—” Suddenly he shook his head. “No, there isn’t time to get into that. Just postpone the wedding, and let’s go talk.”
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head, wanting to ask him what there was no time to get into, but doing so would be pointless. “I’m marrying your brother, now. We can talk later.”
“We need to talk now.”
Of all the nerve… Behind her, “The Wedding March” started. Ready to enter the sanctuary and walk down the aisle, Tessa purposefully slid to Griff’s side and began to turn toward the door. But before she could so much as put her hand on the golden knob, Griff swept her off her feet and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Pivoting, he headed through the still-open front door and down the brick steps of the church.
“Are you crazy?” Tessa asked breathlessly, batting his chest. He didn’t respond. She swung her head from side to side, looking for help, but then she remembered the entire population of Claiborne Landing, all one hundred fifty-five of them, were stuffed into the church, courtesy of her grandmother. There wasn’t so much as one old man idling his time away on the bench in front of the car repair shop across the road. Through the closed windows, with the noisy wall unit air conditioners humming and “The Wedding March” being played loudly, Tessa doubted anyone could hear her if she yelled for help. At least, she thought wryly, she didn’t have to worry about the embarrassment of it all.
In the seconds it took to reach his shiny, silver-blue truck parked