A bride could have never asked for a more perfect day for a wedding, Fiona thought as she stared outside the window at the brilliant sunshine and clear, blue skies. Or an unwilling bride could have never asked for a worse day to be getting married as was the case with her. Any hope she had for this wedding to be postponed wasn’t going to be fulfilled with the help of mother nature. She was well and truly on her own.
Hands tugged and prodded her limbs to get her into the expensive wedding gown that her fiancé had delivered to the estate that morning. She hated the gown. She hated that it was perfect. That she would have loved walking down the aisle in this dress to the perfect man. A man she loved and wanted to promise vows to. But, she wasn’t about to marry the man she loved. In fact, she would never have the opportunity to find out what it meant to love.
The familiar resentment of her father’s transgressions reared its ugly head, and she tried to squash it. The man was about to walk her down the aisle in the next half an hour. The deed would be done then, and her hatred would have no place in her new life. Hating him wouldn’t change the fact that he had gambled away her future. He had gambled away their fortune, and when he had nothing left, had gambled their home. For one second, he hadn’t even stopped to think that his dead wife whom he professed to love so much was buried on that same property.
She had no way out of this marriage. This time, the mess her father had created was too deep for him to dig his way out. He had made her into a pawn to be sacrificed, and she was willingly going into it because, despite everything, despite the fact that at times she hated him, she still loved him. Fiona closed her eyes and remembered him as he was before her mother’s death. She would need those memories to get her through today.
“Daddy, daddy!” An eight-year-old Fiona flew across the room and into her father’s arms as he walked through the front door. He swung her up in his arms then threw her high in the air.
“Edgar!” her mother warned but her father only walked up to her, Fiona still in his arms and planted a kiss on the disapproving line of the woman’s mouth.
“Make her swoon, Daddy!” Fiona chanted and giggled. “Make her swoon.”
Her mother swatted him away, her cheeks turning red. She touched a hand to her lips, her eyes twinkling with love for both her husband and her child.
“Fee, you go to your room and wash up for dinner,” her mother told her. “And you, Ed, get comfortable, and I’ll set the table.”
“Amazing.”
Fiona was brought out of her reverie to find herself smiling from the memory of happier times. The two women hired by her fiancé who had been helping her get ready for the wedding stood back and admired the fine image Fiona cut in her wedding gown. She was almost afraid to turn to and look in the mirror, but curiosity got the best of her. Even she had to gasp when she saw herself.
“You look amazing,” the younger of the two women said.
“Thank you,” Fiona responded without tearing her eyes away from the mirror. She looked stunning, and this only made her even more depressed. Her beautiful, long, reddish-blonde hair was pulled to the back of her head with gold combs that once belonged to her mother. They matched the gold highlights in her wedding dress. Tendrils of her hair were left to trail over her high cheekbones. The dress carried a basque waistline and a low-cut V-neck which displayed the creamy mounds of her breasts. The skirt was full chapel length, the white tulle and organza material interwoven with gold artwork which matched the appliques on the bodice. She turned to reveal the intricate design of the back which exposed the unblemished expanse of her skin.
A knock on the door startled her, and she spun around, the sound of her dress rustling with her movement. The other two women turned to face the door as well. Fiona sucked in a deep breath at the sight of the bridegroom. She still couldn’t bring herself to think of him as her future husband. There would be a bride, and there would be a groom today. If she had anything to say about it, which she had very little, she would be as far removed from the ceremony in spirit as she could.
Gareth Kaiser was a handsome man, although a little paler than she would have liked in a husband. He was tall, almost four inches taller than her five-foot-six-inch frame. Whenever he smiled, it never quite reached his eyes, and his hair was always slicked back. She couldn’t help thinking that it must have taken a lot of grease for him to slick back the black hair that brushed his shoulders. His eyes were an unusual darkness. A deep black that made her feel like Alice plummeting down the rabbit hole.
He was the sweetest man she had ever met, but she wasn’t fooled one bit. If he were a sweet man, he would have never forced her father’s hand. Her father had gambled with what was not his. Now she had to marry this man because once she turned twenty-one—which was in a couple weeks—her husband would be able to control not only her property but also surrounding the woods. Which he seemed to crave greatly. He never answered her question about the importance of the protected forest to him. Her childhood home didn’t seem enough. To save her father from humiliation and jail, she had agreed to be Gareth’s trophy wife.
“Leave us,” he said.
The two women scrambled away, leaving Fiona alone with him. Despite her nervousness, she was determined to not let him know how she felt.
“Why do you want to marry me if you want to jinx our marriage by seeing the bride in her wedding gown?” she asked, lifting her chin.
He smiled, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Come now, my dear. I’ve found you a forward thinker. I’m quite sure you don’t believe in that nonsense.”
She shrugged. Every day for the past week, since Fiona discovered that her father had gambled away their legacy, Gareth had visited her for exactly one hour. During that hour, he would ask her random questions about herself and invite her to do the same. She had deemed the visits unnecessary, but he had insisted on a proper courting. His mannerisms freaked her out at times. Like him showing up now when they were supposed to be married in less than an hour.
Or is he here to call off the wedding? Hope flared inside at the thought.
“Why are you here?” she blurted out, unable to contain the question.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Can a man not visit his bride to tell her how exquisite she looks?”
“You could have told me that at the ceremony.”
“Okay, you got me.” He reached inside his coat and removed a box. He handed it to her and she reluctantly took it from him. “Open it.”
She removed the lid from the box and found the most beautifully cut pair of diamond earrings inside, nestled against black velvet. “Oh, my.”
“These have been in my family for centuries,” he remarked, removing the earrings from the box. “The diamonds, I mean of course. They have been reshaped many times but still remain an heirloom that is passed onto a bride when the time comes. My mother wore them on her wedding day and her mother before her. And now, you will wear the same.”
His words were perfect and sweet. He was saying all the right things which was the big problem for her. He barely knew her. He didn’t love her, and yet, he was acting as if he did which made her suspicious of him.
“I can’t wear them,” she told him, taking a step back. “They’re your mother’s.”
“And you will be my wife,” he answered. “For that reason, you will wear this gift.”
A little voice told her to accept the gift, but she shook her head. “Really, I can’t. I’m sure your parents were in love when she got these earrings from your father. It would be almost sacrilegious for me to wear them under these circumstances.”
If it was possible, his eyes became even darker. “The circumstances are the same. You’re about to be my wife.”
“Why are you doing this?” she cried, hitting at his arm when he reached for her ear. She stepped back, her chest heaving with emotion. “Why are you pretending like this is normal? It isn’t. You’re forcing my hand in marriage to get my lands. This is not a happy occasion! The dress! This engagement ring! Now this. Will you just stop? Please, just stop!”
After her outburst, a heavy silence weighed down on the room, disturbed only by her sharp intake of breaths.
Without a word, he placed one foot in front of him and then another. She backed up until she hit the wall and could go nowhere. Leaning down, he reached for her ear. She trembled but found she could not move under his stare. His hands were cold as they touched her face and goosebumps broke out on her bare arms.
“I won’t make you wear them.” He reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. They were as cold as his hands, and she regretted not having slipped on her gloves yet.
“Please,” she heard herself croak. “I don’t want to marry you.”
Her words fell on deaf ears. Gareth reached up to run his finger from behind her ear down to her throat and over her jugular. She swallowed hard, not sure if she was justified in feeling as threatened as she did by that movement.
“Make no mistake about this, my dear, sweet wife.” His lips barely moved with each word. “You are mine. The land, the house, everything is mine. Now, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Don’t let me wait too long in the gardens.”
She was too frightened to point out to him that she wasn’t his yet and the estate was technically still hers. Even when they married, it would still be hers unless she signed it over to him.
She watched him walk from the room and then she slumped against the wall, blinking against the tears that welled up in her eyes. If she cried, she would ruin her mascara, although God only knew why she cared if she looked like a raccoon, walking down the aisle.