Bridal Jeopardy

She was trying to work her way through the encounter with him when a knock on the door made her whole body jerk.

Was that Craig? Coming after her.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

“John.”

Oh, Lord, John. The man she was going to marry. One of the last people she wanted to see now.

She got up on shaky legs and crossed to the door. From the front window, she saw John standing on her doorstep, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He dropped them to his sides when he saw her staring at him.

Quickly she unlocked the door and stepped aside. He came in and closed the door behind him, then turned to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You were attacked.”

“How do you know?”

He hesitated for just a second before saying, “I was calling to say hello, and Claire answered the phone. She sounded upset, so I asked her some questions. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“She says two men came into the shop and threatened you. Then a stranger came to your rescue.”

“Yes.”

“I assume you got his name.”

“He’s Craig Brady,” she said, using the false name that he’d given to Claire.

“And you never met him before?”

She wondered what the right answer was, then decided and said, “I didn’t meet him, but he was at that charity reception the other night.”

“The guy who was watching you?”

She winced. “I guess. I didn’t really pay much attention,” she lied.

John kept his gaze on her, and she worked to keep her expression neutral. She knew he’d noticed Craig at the plantation house. And done what? Maybe had his guys make a move on him?

“So what about the men who attacked you?” John asked. “Had you ever seen them before?”

“No.”

John continued his interrogation. “And what did they want?”

“I never found out.”

His eyes narrowed. “But I suspect you think it has something to do with your father.”

Her mouth had gone dry, but she managed to answer, “Yes.”

“He’s gambling again?”

“I...don’t know for sure.”

“You’d better tell him to behave himself. I’m not a bottomless well of money.”

“I understand.”

“I hate it that he’s responsible for bad stuff happening to you,” he said, the tone of his voice changing. She knew that change. He was feeling tender toward her, and amorous.

He reached out and took her in his arms, cradling her against himself, and she fought to keep the stiffness out of her body. She didn’t want him to hold her, but she could hardly object to her fiancé comforting her after a frightening experience.

He crooked one hand under her chin and tipped her face up as he lowered his mouth. His lips touched down on hers, settled, then began to move with the skill of a man who had made love to many women.

Stephanie tried to relax and kiss him back, when all she wanted to do was duck out of his arms and flee the room.

He was an experienced lover, and she’d convinced herself that marrying him wouldn’t be a personal disaster for her, yet, as he kissed her, she couldn’t stop herself from comparing her feelings now to the sensations and emotions that had threatened to swamp her when Craig had held her in his arms.

Then she’d been aroused. Hot and pliable and ready for sex. Now she was only tolerating the attentions of the man whose bed she would share in a few months.

She hoped he didn’t realize what she was really feeling. And when he drew back, she felt relief and shame warring inside her. If she were honest, she would tell John Reynard that she couldn’t marry him, but she knew that was as impossible as her flying off to Oz in a hot-air balloon.

At least he hadn’t forced her to make love with him. She’d told him that she couldn’t do that until they were married, and he’d grumbled about the edict. But he’d respected her wishes. She wondered if he thought she was a virgin. Probably not. Probably he’d investigated her background enough to know that she’d been intimate with a few men, but the relationships had never gone very far. Maybe he was thinking that he’d wait until marriage so she didn’t have a chance to walk away when she was disappointed.

He looked down at her. “I guess you’re still upset by what happened.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I should let you rest.” The edge in his voice made her grasp his arm. “I’m sorry. I just can’t...” She let her voice trail off rather than try to explain any further.

“I’m going to have some of my men protect you,” he said.

Her gaze shot to his face. “What do you mean?”

“They’ll be watching over you.”

“You mean they’re coming here?”

“They won’t bother you, but they’ll be around.”

“Yes, thank you,” she managed to say, when she really wanted to scream at him to leave her alone.

He left the house then, and she collapsed into a chair, glad to be alone. Yet at the same time she was terrified by what had just happened. She’d never wanted to marry this man. Now she understood just how bad a decision it would be.

Would be? Was she still thinking that she had a choice?