Married: The Virgin Widow by Deborah Hale

Author:Deborah Hale [Hale, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781408916384
Publisher: Harlequin Mills and Boon Ltd.
Published: 2014-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Standing at the altar of St Botolph’s, Ford pretended to ignore the escalating chorus of whispers from the pews as he consulted the gold pocket watch that had once belonged to his grandfather. In two more minutes the guests should be all assembled. He wanted to be certain everyone was there to hear his announcement. The last thing he wanted was to be obliged to repeat it.

Anger thundered through him, demanding all his self-control to hold it in. All his plans had been thwarted. Laura had eluded him once again, but only after deepening her hold upon him.

How far would he have to go and how long would he have to wait for those memories to fade? His longing for her had already pursued him to the other side of the world and held him in bondage for more than seven years. At this rate, he would never be free.

Though he was not in danger of losing his fortune, title or estate, he felt even worse than the first time Laura had jilted him. Then, he’d been able to slip quickly out of the country without facing anyone who knew what had happened. And he’d had the comfort of his unshaken belief that he’d been wronged. This time, Ford could not escape the bitter knowledge that he had only himself to blame.

There now. His two minutes were up. The pews were full and the guests were growing restless, casting frequent, expectant glances toward the back of the sanctuary. Watching for the bride who would not come.

Ford mustered his composure, determined that no one should suspect his true feelings. He would speak with brisk detachment, as if the loss of his bride were a trifling inconvenience and he could find a suitable substitute at a moment’s notice if he wished to bother.

But before he could get the words out, he heard soft footsteps and faint rustling from the back of the church. Surely it could not be…

Ford’s heart began to pound so hard that he feared it would tear a hole in the breast of his coat.

Belinda and Susannah appeared at the head of the aisle, clutching nosegays of early summer flowers. The organ wheezed to life with the opening chords of a stirring processional. The wedding guests rose and a moment later Laura swept toward the altar on the arm of Sidney Crawford.

Her beauty staggered Ford anew. For her second wedding she had forgone a white gown in favor of a warm apricot color. Her hair was gathered up in a mass of loose golden curls, crowned with a halo of orange blossoms.

What in heaven had brought her here this morning, after he’d lost the means to compel her and after the way he’d treated her?

Upon reaching the foot of the altar, Laura suddenly raised her downcast eyes to meet his. Her captivating blue gaze held a glow of vulnerable hope clouded by wary uncertainty.

The organ fell silent and the guests resumed their seats.

“Dearly beloved,” intoned the vicar, “we are

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