Bargain with the Wind by Kathleen O'Brien

Author:Kathleen O'Brien
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The small island church was really quite beautiful in its quiet way. No stained glass or gilded altars awed the spirit, but a wonderful simplicity of honey pine, white walls and arched windows soothed the soul.

Or would have, if the soul in question hadn't been quite so agitated.

Darcy's heart was beating so fast she had to breathe through her mouth to get enough air. And then her mouth was too dry, and she had to lick her lips so that they wouldn't stick to her teeth. So much for the clichéd blushing bride. This bride was as pale as a ghost.

She couldn't even hear the minister. When she wasn't trying to keep from fainting, she was listening to Miles's breathing, which was annoyingly even and slow. He hadn't shifted his position even once since the ceremony had started—his body was completely calm and at ease. Damn the superb confidence of the man. You might have thought he got married every day.

In embarrassing contrast, she was practically vibrating. Her white dress, which reminded her of the one she'd worn to Great-Aunt Susan's garden party when she was only eight, was quivering in the sunlight, as though her racing blood shook it. And the taffeta petticoat she wore under it betrayed her restlessness with its infernal rustling.

The dress had been Tessa's idea. Darcy had wanted a simple linen suit, but Tessa'd refused. The whole idea of the wedding delighted her. Her romantic heart had never much liked the idea of the marriage to Evan, and now she thought a love-at-first-sight story was just too perfect.

So in her usual ebullient way, Tessa had hauled Darcy along for the ride, scouring the stores on both Sanibel and nearby Fort Myers for the perfect wedding dress, the perfect bouquet, the perfect wedding cake. Once or twice during the period Darcy had caught Miles's amused gaze and had had to turn away, flushing. Clearly he thought they were two little girls playing dress up. And since both he and Darcy knew that there was nothing of the fairy tale in this wedding, he must have found their planning ridiculous.

But it wasn't ridiculous. It was, in some way she couldn't explain, both frightening and exhilarating. She tried to listen to the minister.

"I will."

The two small words drove a sharp, fine nail into Darcy's heart. Spoken in Miles's deep baritone, they sounded so solemn, so true. And yet she knew they were only a masquerade. This marriage was a business arrangement, not a sacrament.

And now it was her turn. She found her voice, though it trembled slightly, and the fear that she might faint grew stronger.

"I will," she whispered, the wooden floor seeming to tilt under her feet. She couldn't meet the minister's eyes. It seemed a sacrilege to make the promise of "till death'' when she knew herself to be taking out only a limited three-year contract—and yet no bolt of lightning struck her down. Did God forgive liars, then, if their motives were pure?

When Miles took her hand, he must have felt the tremor, for he steadied it quickly with a firm squeeze.

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