His Queen of Hearts

A collective gasp rose among the guests, followed by silence and then a quiet murmur that grew louder. A spattering of giggles could be heard near the front of the church where J.R. stood like a marble statue, never batting an eye. The maid of honor turned to glance at the guests, her face pale. As bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“It’s all right, Prissy,” the bride told her. “It really is.” She smiled, her eyes glittering, and looked down at a woman on the end of the front row. “I’m sorry, Mama, but I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

Gathering her voluminous skirt, she nearly flew up the aisle. For a moment there was no sound, and then an anguished cry from the woman she’d spoken to filled the crowded room. “You have to, Carolyn!”

The rustle of lace swept past Dev. Acting on instinct, Devon slammed his Stetson on his head and jumped to his feet, hurrying to catch her by one lace-covered elbow as she pushed open the massive wooden door. Sunlight blinded him for a moment, but he held tight to her to keep her from stumbling.

“God help me,” he heard her whisper.

He tugged his hat farther down as a shield from the sunshine and prying eyes. “Well, I’m sure not God, sugar, but I’ll be more than happy to do whatever I can,” he replied, guiding her down the steps.

She didn’t fight him as he hustled her toward his Jeep, parked less than half a block away. The click of her heels on the sidewalk echoed with each step, until they heard the church doors burst open and the sound of agitated voices behind them. Reaching his vehicle, Dev yanked open the passenger door for her and waited until she bunched her dress enough to slide in. Then he circled the front of the Jeep and climbed in behind the wheel.

Checking for traffic, he started the engine. “Hang on, sugar,” he said, twisting the steering wheel to leave the parking spot with a squeal of rubber. He made a tight U-turn and stomped the accelerator just as they passed the growing crowd of people on the church steps. With a quick glance in that direction, he saw J.R. near the door, his hands fisted at his sides and a deep frown marring his good looks.

Gotcha. Dev smiled to himself. Things sure hadn’t worked out as he’d planned, but he’d played the surprise hand he’d been dealt with his usual talent. Satisfied, he eased off on the gas and sneaked a look at his passenger.

Head tilted back to lean against the headrest and eyes closed, she was the perfect picture of a serene bride. But she couldn’t be. She’d just jilted her groom at the altar. Any woman who’d been through what she must have couldn’t be feeling calm.

“You okay?” he asked.

After a brief moment she nodded.

He glanced down at her hands. Knotted tightly in her lap, they gave her away. He was an expert at reading body language in his business and in everyday life, too. His thirty-four years had taught him well. He would let her calm down and get her thoughts together, and then he’d find out what was going on. Were J.R.’s cheating ways the only reason she’d dumped him, or was there more to it?

She didn’t know it, but Dev had a stake in this. And she’d become his ace in the hole.

When her heart stopped slamming against her ribs and her body ceased trembling, Carly Albright took a deep breath and slowly let it out. How had she done it? Of course there’d been no choice, but how had she stood there and announced that she couldn’t marry James? What would he do? What would her mama do?

So many questions and no answers. Maybe that was a good thing. If she could just put the incident out of her mind and—And what? She didn’t even know where she was going, let alone how to deal with life once she got there.

And what must this man beside her, who’d blessedly come to her rescue, think of her?

She opened her eyes and peeked at him from under her lashes. For one second she couldn’t breathe. Mercy goodness, but he was handsome! Dark, nearly ebony hair curled beneath the brim of his black cowboy hat. He wasn’t dressed in western clothing, but something about him other than the hat shouted “cowboy.” His jaw was strong, angular, his nose long and straight. High cheekbones gave him a European air, while a silvery scar ran across the bridge of his nose and disappeared on the other side. And those lips! Firm, yet full. Sensual. Carly had to press her own lips together to capture her sigh before it escaped.

He had a dangerous look about him, but she didn’t feel threatened. In fact, she felt more secure than she had for weeks, ever since she’d started having doubts about marrying James.

Well, what’s done is done, she thought, opening her eyes wide and lifting her hands to slip out the hairpins that held her headpiece. She’d find a way to make the best of it. She only hoped it didn’t become a disaster, like her wedding.

“Do you mind if I toss this in the back?” she asked, pulling the multitiered veil off her head.

He didn’t turn to look at her. “Be my guest.”

Pivoting in the seat to stuff the netting in the back, she checked behind them to make sure no one was following. When she was satisfied that the highway behind them was clear of any familiar vehicles, she settled back into the seat again.

There was no sense worrying about it. It was done and over with. The only thing that worried her was her mama. But somehow, Carly knew Lily Mae Charpentier Albright would make out just fine. Maybe even better, if she went on with the plans they’d made about selling the mansion. Just as she would, herself. If only she had a plan.

“So. Where are we headed?” she asked over the muted strains of country music playing on the radio.

For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. “Where can I drop you?” he finally asked. When she didn’t answer, he glanced at her. “At home? A friend’s? Relative’s?”

Going home was out of the question. At least for now. The chance was too big that James would look for her there. She couldn’t face him. And seeing family and friends would be more than humiliating. She felt bad about leaving her mama to deal with the backlash, but Mama could handle it with her usual Southern grace. Carly just wasn’t up to it.

She looked down at her hands, tightly fisted in her lap. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “You were there. You saw what happened.”

He was silent again, until a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you need some time. Would you like to go somewhere they can’t find you?”

She really hadn’t given it any thought, concentrating only on the wedding and how to stop it. “Well, yes, I guess I do.”

“Thought so. I saw you checking to make sure we’re not being followed. You can rest easy. We aren’t.”

Carly worried her bottom lip, imagining the mess she’d left back at the church. If she could trust Prissy, she’d call her, but since her best friend had taken it upon herself to avail herself of the groom’s sexual charms, she wasn’t the wisest choice for a confidante at this point in time.

Maybe she could start fresh somewhere, or at least wait until the uproar died down before returning home. After quickly reassuring herself that she was safer nowhere near Baton Rouge, at least for a while, Carly relaxed. One less thing to worry about and, hopefully, she would learn to be a better judge of people.

“We’re headed west?” she asked, looking to the future, instead of the past.

Nodding, he kept his eyes on the late-afternoon traffic. “To Texas?”

He briefly took his attention off the road long enough to glance at her. “What makes you think so?”

“Your Texas drawl.” When he glanced at her again, she felt more than saw his surprise. “It’s not the same as a Louisiana accent,” she quickly explained. “Or Georgia or Arkansas or Mississi—”

“Right.” His long fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “I never realized I still had it,” he muttered under his breath.

“That black hat’s a good hint.”

“Men wear Stetson’s in Louisiana, too.”

“But you’re not from Louisiana.”

This time his fingers gripped the steering wheel, and the hard, sharp angle of his jaw moved before he spoke. “Same thing as.”

Carly wished he’d do more than glance at her. Having a conversation with someone she couldn’t make eye contact with always made her uneasy. That’s what had started her wondering about James over the past week. It wasn’t that he never looked at her directly. He did, often. But lately there had been something in his eyes. Something that had begun to make her uncomfortable at times. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. In fact, he had swept her off her feet the first time she met him. She now understood what a whirlwind courtship was. Flowers, candlelit dinners, expensive trinkets and lots of attention. James certainly knew how to turn a girl’s head. And he had been more than a gentleman with both her and her mama. But although she had made it to the age of twenty-six without making a major mistake with a man, she knew now that her judgment, of men especially, was practically nonexistent. She had always considered herself a good judge of character. Not that her family and close friends agreed. Now she had proof they were right.

“You always lived in Louisiana?”

So lost in thought, his question startled her, and she answered automatically. “Born and raised in Baton Rouge, like all the Albrights and Charpentiers. I guess we’ve been here forever. I’d even bet we were here before the city was founded.” She turned to look at the man next to her. “What about you?”

“You’re a betting woman?”

It was the third time he’d answered a question with a question, and she didn’t like what it might mean. “No, what I meant was, where are you from?”

“Didn’t we just cover that?”

It was exactly as she had suspected. He didn’t want to answer her questions. What was he hiding? Was Prissy right? Was she too trusting? Well, she certainly had been where Prissy and James were concerned.

“Do you always do that?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t as gullible as everyone told her she was.