The Suspect Groom

Chapter Three

The ceremony took less than three minutes. Ivan stepped outside his office and called to Reuben who, in addition to being sheriff, was also a justice of the peace. Apparently, the guests would only be present at the party.

Before Trina had time to reconsider, she’d signed the marriage license and said, “I do.”

“And now,” Reuben said, “following the time-honored tradition, Ivan, you may kiss the bride.”

Ivan caught her in his arms. He pulled her hard against his chest, crushing her breasts. He barely looked at her, then his mouth pressed down so hard that her lip was pinched against her teeth. His physical strength overwhelmed her for a moment. Then, instinctively, she fought him, twisting her head to one side. The more she struggled, the tighter his grasp. Where was the tenderness he’d spoken of? Where was the love? She wrenched away from him, staring in shock. All his lovely promises were erased by the rough brutality of his kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what’s mine. You’re mine now, Trina.”

“No!” She was breathing hard. Her lips were bruised. What had she done? “Don’t you remember, Ivan, in your letters. You talked about a partnership.”

“Partners?” He considered. “In a way, that’s true. You be sure to tell Jake Poynter about that.”

“Who? About what?”

“Run upstairs and get changed.” He turned away from her dismissively. “I don’t want my bride wearing blue jeans.”

“In your letters,” she insisted. “You talked about the lifetime partnership of a man and a woman.”

“Did I? Well, get that notion out of your pretty little head, my bride. You’ll take what I give you and be glad for it. But the only way you’ll ever own anything around here is when I’m dead and gone.”

“Why? Why did you marry me?”

“The usual reasons, I suppose. Plus, my bride, I’ll call you my special little insurance policy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Change your clothes, Trina. You look like hell, and I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my friends.”

Appalled at his coarseness, she ran from the room, fled upstairs into her pink chamber where her simple wedding gown lay spread across the bed. The dress was a mockery. This marriage was a sham. She’d been manipulated into a hateful, loveless relationship. Why? Why would Ivan Stoddard want that? Why did he mention Jake Poynter? What did he mean when he said she was an insurance policy?

There was a knock at the door, and Maybelle entered uninvited. “Trina, honey, it’s eleven-thirty and you’re still not ready. Let’s get you into that pretty little frock of yours.”

“Did he send you? Did Ivan send you?”

“Yes, he did. Said you might need some help. And, honey, I’ve never seen him looking so happy. He announced to that whole room of women in the kitchen that he was now a married man.”

“Happy?” If his kiss was a display of happiness, Trina would hate to see him in a vindictive mood.

“I’m sure you’re nervous,” Maybelle said. “Perfectly natural for a new bride. Now, let’s get you changed into your wedding gown. Relax, Trina. Enjoy yourself. Everybody’s dying to meet you.”

Numbly, she allowed Maybelle to cajole her into the plain white dress with a touch of lace at the neck and wrists. But Trina felt like she was dressing for an execution instead of a wedding reception. There was only one hope she could cling to. David. She needed to talk with him, to have him soothe her fears. She’d made the wrong decision, she was sure of that. And she needed to get away. She wanted David to take her away from here, to ride off beside her into the magnificent Alaskan snow vistas.

“Come on, now,” Maybelle said. “Let’s see a smile.”

Trina didn’t dare smile. If she did, her face would crack. She’d burst into hysterics. The last thing she wanted to do was attend a party and listen to people say, “Many happy returns.” Quickly, she finished buttoning her dress. “I’ll be right down, Maybelle. As soon as I fix my hair.”

“You hurry up. Put a hustle in your bustle. The party’s going to start, and I’m afraid it’s going to be a short one. A couple of snowflakes have already fallen.”

The door closed behind the housekeeper, and Trina yanked out her braid and pulled a brush through her thick, unruly hair. Outside her window, crystals of snow drifted lazily down. Have you ever caught a snowflake and held it in your hand? She remembered David saying that. Oh, David, I need to talk with you. You’re my only friend.

She hurried through hallways and corridors, avoiding everyone until she was downstairs in the large room outside David’s office and bedroom. Orange flames crackled in the moss rock fireplace.

Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door to his office. He wasn’t there. Nor was he in his bedroom. Where was he? She needed him.

Heartsick, Trina sank down on the ledge beside the fireplace, not caring if the soot marked her wedding gown. It was only a dress. She hadn’t even worn it during the three-minute civil ceremony. Like everything else, the dress was a fraud. She wasn’t a bride. Ivan had made that quite clear. Trina belonged to him. She was a...a possession.

Oh, David, where are you?

It wasn’t too late, she told herself. She could still annul the marriage. And that was exactly what she intended to do. There was no way in hell that she would go to bed with Ivan Stoddard.

The door from outside shoved open and David stomped inside. He pulled off his vest and Stetson, then turned and saw her. “Trina? What are you doing here?”

“I need a friend.”

“Looks to me like you’ve got a whole house full of people who want that job. Out front, it looks like a parking lot. And they’re all here to meet you.”

David’s hesitant smile broke her heart. He was being polite, being happy for her when she had no reason for joy.

Trina wished she was confident enough to wear her eyeglasses so she could clearly see every detail of David’s features. She was glad when he came closer, within her field of clear vision. He sat beside her on the wide stone ledge beside the hearth. His voice was gentle and his words were sweet. “You’re a beautiful bride. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a sight so pretty as you, sitting here, straight and proud, with firelight dancing in your hair.”

Not thinking, she reached out and touched his cheek, still cold from being outside. He wore a cowboy’s version of dress-up clothing, a navy blue shirt with fancy buttons and black trousers. She realized with a shock that she wished he could have been her groom.

“Ivan’s a lucky man,” he said. “So, when’s the ceremony?”

“It’s over.”

The stillness in the room became thick and palpable, filled with the weight of her regret. She saw the question in David’s eyes as he took her hand and held it. He whispered, “Why, Trina?”

“It happened so fast. Reuben was right there, pronouncing us man and wife before I had a chance to think.” She turned toward the fire. “No, that’s not true. I agreed to marry him of my own free will. Nobody forced me to sign the marriage license. I did it because Ivan and I were alone for a moment, and he reminded me of the man who wrote those letters. Those damn letters. I was fool enough to believe every word he’d written.” She turned to him. “David, I fell in love before I even came to Alaska. I fell in love with words on a page. I know that’s crazy.”

“Not crazy at all.”

“But the words were lies.” She had wanted so badly to be in love that she’d fallen for a con job, a crude scam. “I was blind. I was so gullible.”

“If it was a mistake, Trina, it can be fixed.”

“But I can never trust my feelings again. Never.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I was a fool. Ivan used those letters to make me think he was someone else, someone sensitive and caring. He’s not the same man as the one who wrote to me about waterfalls and migrating birds and lonely Alaskan nights. I can’t explain it. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes.”

David understood only too well. For David had written those letters.