Chapter 7 #2
She heard the rustle of the sheets and felt her heart breaking.
She was a fool. Aaron Biddle had asked her to marry him so many years ago and she turned him down, preferring to live this lie with a married man who saw her as nothing but a convenience.
Even though she was disgusted with herself, she kept hoping that he would come up behind her and persuade her to get back in bed.
But when she turned around, it was to see him getting dressed.
Stark pain shimmered through her chest and for one awful moment, she almost begged him to stay. But she had to take a stand.
Without looking at her, he grabbed his jacket and left. Waiting until he was out the door, she collapsed right where she was and cried for the wasted years and the pain of unrequited love.
*****
"Nervous?"
She turned to look at her brother as he adjusted the tie around his snowy white shirt. His hair was still a maze of twists and curls, but it was glowing with life. Her heart ached at how handsome he looked. The entire town would see that they had turned out well and she was fiercely proud of that.
"No." She shook her head and realized she meant it.
Jordan had been very supportive, dropping by every day to see what was happening and if he could be of any help.
She had her writing and busied herself trying to get some parts of it done.
They had not spoken of going on a honeymoon, but he had suggested they go to the remote cabin.
"It will give you a chance to work. I have some projects and reports to take care of as well. The museum is my pet project and requires some personal attention."
She had not wanted to be alone with him in a remote location, but she had no reason to believe he would try anything. Besides, they had to make it look as real as possible.
His mother had barely spoken to her at the engagement party she hosted, but Julesa had not minded it at all. They did not like each other and that was something she could live with. The fact that the woman was burning up inside was the beginning of the payback she wanted.
"You look like a bride." Giving up on the blasted tie, he stepped in front of her and turned her so he could examine her attire closely.
"I happen to be one."
Shaking his head, he admired the exquisite picture she made in the figure-hugging cream wool that molded her slender curves from neck to ankles.
Her hair was in a series of curls piled loosely on top of her head.
A string of daisies and daffodils were entwined in the curls, making her look like a wood nymph.
His fingers traced the stunning diamonds around her neck.
"A gift from the fiancé?"
She brushed his hand aside and stepped back. "I asked him not to. I really think he's going way too overboard with this thing."
"If the man wants to give you gifts, why say no?"
"I signed a prenup."
"Naturally. His parents and the lawyers on retainer would have a cow if that was not the case." He turned her to face him. "Does that bother you?"
"Of course not." She waved an impatient hand. "It just had me thinking about the very rich. His mother wants me dead."
Caleb's eyes narrowed. "Has she threatened you?"
She shook her head. "She knows better. But it's in her expression. Oh, she pretends while we're in public, but in private, she's as mean as a snake. She tried to get me to come to my senses."
There was a look of concern on his face. "Honey, I hope you know what you're doing?"
"You expect me to be afraid of her?"
"I expect you to watch your damn back." He shook her lightly.
"Don't dismiss her or even turn your back on her.
I mean it Jules. Women like Jacquline Wainwright have a way of getting what they want.
" His fingers tightened on her shoulders.
"You've defied her, taunted her by daring to reach above your station.
What's more, she's probably of the opinion that you've made a laughingstock of her in her town. She's not going to forget it."
Even though she felt a frisson of fear, she lifted her chin, the light of battle in her eyes. "I am not afraid of her. Let her do her worst."
*****************
They had made a small concession to Jacquline Wainwright. By having the ceremony at the regal Catholic church that had been built in the eighteen hundreds. And was attended faithfully by members of the Wainwright's family since it had been built.
Both husband and wife attended mass every Sunday, along with their two daughters and after their marriage, the two sons-in-law. Jordan had stopped going years ago. The hypocrisy did not sit well with him.
And nothing his mother said to him had made him go back.
Now he was here in the chapel with its stained-glass windows, which had been lovingly restored courtesy of his parents' money as well as the sturdy oak benches that had been commissioned by the best carpenter from out of town.
The seats were cushioned in soft red velvet, the floors a polished oak.
He detested the pomp and obsequiousness of the current priest, with his prominent nose and small eyes set too close to each other. The man was practically fawning over his mother as soon as she stepped inside.
There were guards discreetly placed at the wide arched gates to prevent the crowd from wandering in.
People were already swarming the gates, hoping to get a peek.
But there wasn't much to see from outside.
The walls were too high and thick. In his opinion, churches that cater to people's needs should not have walls.
And they should be open to the public. The pews were practically empty.
It was just his family. Julesa was coming with her brother.
He had told the priest to make it quick.
"I want the ceremony finished in fifteen minutes or less." He told the man curtly. He had been given a look of pure horror that had not affected him one bit.
"That's not possible."
"Make it happen. I'm sure you would not want to incur my displeasure. I happen to be a Wainwright as well and the heir to the throne."
That had shut him up.
The scent of flowers that decorated the empty benches nauseated him. The doors were thrown open, but the aroma was too potent. He was sure it was his mother's idea to have the place filled with lavish bouquets. Such a damn waste, he thought angrily.
He had endured the last three weeks of icy and silent treatment from her and bitter looks from his old man. Nothing had worked. He had ignored all of it. And now he was here to tie himself to a woman he was half in love with. The irony was not lost on him.
"You're making me nervous just looking at you. Relax man."
Liam Moses' voice snapped him out of his reverie and had him straightening his shoulders.
His friend had simply invited himself as soon as he demanded to know if what the press was saying was the unvarnished truth and declared magnanimously that he would be the best man.
His wife was visiting friends in France, or she would have been here with him.
"And your dear mama looks as if she is made of stone.
" All this was said in an undertone, so the priest wearing his dazzling white robe would not be privy to the conversation.
Jordan had told him just enough to satisfy his curiosity.
Liam was a very good friend, but the man was also a terrible gossip.
It would not do to have his personal business bandied around in the club or in their society.
Only three people knew of their arrangements and that was enough.
He had simply told his friend that his parents do not approve of the match.
"I'm sure this is the last place she wants to be." He murmured wryly. His expression changed when the signal was given and the wedding march started playing.
Liam watched in amusement at the look of expectation on the man's face.
And recalled his own ceremony with a tug of his heart.
His love, the woman he had fallen in love with despite his resistance and fury.
The woman who had dazzled him with her looks and worked her way into his bed, just so she could steal from him.
She had stolen so much more than that priceless piece of art. She had stolen his heart forever. One look at her and then a touch and he was lost. So much so that it had not mattered that she was a con artist, a thief—nothing had mattered except that his heart had become tangled up.
Stirring himself and shaking away the memories, he stared in objective appreciation at the woman coming towards them.
Barely giving the man next to her a glance, he concentrated on the vision gliding forward.
He had seen photos of her of course. Julesa Simpson had become quite famous, with her wildly sensational bestselling books and ones that were adapted to the big screen.
And she reminded him of his own beloved wife.
"She's exquisite." He whispered to his friend and doubted if the man even heard him.
Chuckling softly, he pleasured himself by taking her hand and kissing the back of it, before handing her over to Jordan.
The minute she stepped into the chapel, she had been reminding herself that this was not real, none of it was.
It was just a ceremony, an empty one that was beneficial to both of them.
But she had not been able to help the tiny skip of her heart as she stared at the man who was about to become her husband.
The dark blue suit was a striking contrast to the snowy white shirt.
He was not wearing a tie and had unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt.
His dark hair was windswept, his smile teasing as he took her hand in his.
And for a few minutes, with her hand securely held in his, she could almost pretend that they were a normal couple, and this was the day they had looked forward to for years. And the vows meant something.