to worry about the cold, the isolation and—most especially—about dear, sweet, naive Jenny who planned to change her fiancé into a marginally sociable human being after the wedding. Thea couldn’t believe it. Jekyll and Hyde belonged in fiction. Hoping for a metamorphosis on that scale was like hoping to transform Colorado’s rugged fourteen-thousand-foot granite peaks into foothills fit for an afternoon hike.
Pretty darned unrealistic.
She’d talked to Jenny, warning her about trying to transform her husband-to-be. Thea had been engaged herself once before and had hoped that her nurturing love would ease an arrogant, ambitious M.D. into a more sensitive human being. Talk about an impossible dream!
But Jenny was in love, and women in love fooled themselves every day. Twice on Sunday.
Why was the parking so dratted far from the only possible destination up here?
As she neared the rough-hewn stone gondola house, Thea noticed the coat of arms, depicting a single blooming rose—probably to represent the rose in Rosemont—two interlocking crowns and four daggers. She thought about what conceit it took for a computer whiz to invent himself a brand-spanking-new coat of arms, then scolded herself. She might get conceited too, if she ever even saw a million dollars.
She should really cut Gregory Rosemont some slack. After all, Jenny loved him. She unlatched the heavy wooden door and pushed it open. No one else was here. And if possible, the stone house was even colder than the outdoors.
Pushing up her parka sleeve, she glanced at her wristwatch. She’d made good time from Denver, considering that she’d driven under ten miles an hour on the scary stretch of snow-packed, winding road without even a guardrail. She’d arrived half an hour early. Still, she’d expected to find someone here to greet her. A butler, perhaps.
She deposited her suitcase and garment bag on the stone benches that lined the dreary granite walls. In one corner was a wood-burning stove, unlit. On the opposite wall were metal lockers and an ornately decorated, old-fashioned combination safe.
The fiberglass gondola car seemed modern enough in spite of giant cog-wheel machinery that, to Thea, smacked of a medieval torture device. She eyed the steel cable from which the gondola car was suspended. Was it strong enough to hold the weight of several people? She was not only not fond of heights, she was a card-carrying acrophobe.
Evil boy cousins had stranded her in the rafters in her Uncle Harry’s barn when Thea was only five, while her brothers had laughed till they hurled—and she’d never, ever gotten over it. She was good at pretending she had—so far as she knew, no one had ever guessed what a chicken she was—but she couldn’t fool herself.
She absolutely expected the gondola ride to be the worst part of her weekend. For Jenny, she would do it.
She left her luggage and went outdoors again, barely making tracks across the crusted, deep-packed snow, angling for the best view of the castle to distract herself from the only possible approach. She hadn’t dared try to get a glimpse of the castle from the road. The driving had consumed her white-knuckled attention.
Above the snowplowed parking area carved out of the surrounding forest, she peered across the deep, wide chasm. Through gathering storm clouds, she saw thick stone towers rising on either end of a large main structure. Gothic battlements strangely complemented the Moorishstyle arched windows and gables from yet another era. The delightfully eclectic, bizarre architecture bespoke a fascinating history. Jenny inevitably went into raptures describing the castle.
Another vehicle finally pulled into the parking lot below the gondola house. From her vantage point, Thea stared curiously at the four-wheel-drive van. The wedding party was supposed to be small, but Jenny had been dropping gleeful hints about some of the other invited guests. Thea even suspected an attempt at matchmaking. She wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend, but a weekend in a castle might be the perfect time and place for a wonderful romantic assignation.
A tryst.
Thea shook her head at herself, careening from pillar to post, dread and certain panic over the gondola to flights of romantic fantasy.
Strangers to her, an attractive couple of about her own age emerged from the van. Then, the rear door slid open, and a third passenger climbed out. A man. A tall, broad-shouldered man.
Spence Cannon.
A shiver gripped her…was it an acute, terrible loneliness? Recognition? Or only the cold?
She hadn’t laid eyes on the man who’d once asked her to marry him in over five years. She clapped her chattering teeth tightly together. He looked good. Fine, really…fine. Annoyingly so, she snapped at herself. His sun-streaked hair fell rakishly across his forehead. From this distance, she couldn’t see his deep-set blue eyes at all, but she knew that his expression would be cool and outrageously condescending. She’d thought, all those eons ago when she still believed she was going to conquer the world herself, that the combination of cool and condescending was sexy, an invitation, a dare.
She’d fooled herself every day she and Spence were together. Twice on Sunday. And that was a conservative estimate.
She turned back toward the Castle and glared. Damn you, Jenny. How could Jenny think Thea ever wanted to see Spence again? Whatever they’d shared, even if she’d called it love, had been cold, dead ashes for a long time, swept under a carpet and ground to infinitesimal dust. Her pride would never allow their relationship to be rekindled, even if her sanity went on holiday.
She tried to tell herself that the memory of their breakup didn’t hurt anymore, but it obviously did. Pain like a bolt of lightning stabbed somewhere near the center of her forehead. Almost blinded, she recoiled, retreating into the shadow of the trees, hiding herself like a scared rabbit.
A momentary urge seized her to leave this desolate mountaintop. To gather up her grotesque bridesmaid dress and run, not walk, back to the safety of her Denver town-house and her two cats.
Coward! She’d been looking forward to this long weekend, and she wouldn’t let Spence ruin it. She could handle him.
She could be strong. She’d done it once. Five years ago, she’d been the one to call off their engagement and return his diamond ring. Very tough, very brave, utterly lonely. She’d sat home alone, night after night, staring at the telephone like one of her boy-smitten middle-schoolers, praying for the boy to call. Futilely waiting on the reconciliation call that never came.
She could be strong.
She peeked out from behind a tree trunk. Damn you, Spence. Why did he have to look so good?
TODAY WOULD BE either the best or the worst day of Spence Cannon’s life. He hated the uncertainty.
“Come on!” his friend Emily called out. “Let’s take a good look at this place.”
Spence really couldn’t have cared less about the so-called castle. His decision to accept Jenny’s wedding invitation was based entirely on the fact that he knew Thea Sarazin would be there. He wanted another chance with her.
“Look at the gondola house! With a coat of arms, no less. That’s fairly pretentious!” Emily charged up the path with the agility of a mountain goat, then she whirled and embraced her new husband, Jordan Shane. “Doesn’t it make you think of knights in shining armor and princesses and jousts?”
“Looks cold,” Jordan said.
“That’s
