The Wedding Chase by Rebecca Kelley

Author:Rebecca Kelley [Kelley, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79878-7
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Zel leaned toward the window of the plush coach, watching as smoky air and dingy buildings transformed into acre upon acre of storm-washed greenery and crisp, clean sunshine. Wolfgang rode close to the silver-and-black carriage. The ease with which he sat his mount, combined with a jacket the same hue as the horse’s chestnut coat, gave him the air of a mythic centaur. His long, tapered fingers rested on the reins with a gentleness at war with the ready strength and power of his frame. She flushed when her eyes met the grin in his, knowing he was excessively pleased with her lengthy perusal. Zel quickly looked to Maggie, but his image remained fixed in her mind.

Tamping down the warmth rising through her body, she cleared her throat. “A week in his company! It will pass like this.” She leaned forward and clapped her hands. “Like nothing.”

Maggie sat opposite on the luxurious silver squabs, eyeing Zel dubiously. “Yes, Miss Zel, like nothing.”

Zel snorted. “Oh, so you agree with everyone else?” The carriage hit a rut, throwing her back in the seat. “I cannot control myself? Ha! I will show you all. Woman of unharnessed passion! In a bloody pig’s eye!”

Last evening’s storm was only a vague recollection in the fluffy, scattered clouds overhead. The coach grew increasingly stuffy, but as hot and bored as she was, Zel would expire before she looked out again. She twitched around trying to get comfortable, finally throwing herself in a semirecline on the well-stuffed cushions.

“Maggie, if you tell me I should marry him, I shall scream.”

“I—”

“Do not start with me. You know my feelings on marriage.”

“Miss—”

“How you can possibly support the idea of marriage after what you have gone through, I cannot surmise.” Zel’s hand snaked unbidden to the black silk curtains, she paused then pulled them tightly shut. “My mother, my aunt, the women at the home, all victims of the unbridled passions of the male of the species.”

“But—”

“Reckless, uncontrolled emotions culminate in violence.”

“Not all—”

“Yes, all men, given the opportunity and motivation.” Zel blinked, attempting to exorcise the visions of strong hands gently examining her for injury, long fingers stroking the pain from her head. She shook her head vigorously, freeing a few pins from the loose chignon, but the image persisted, followed by another image of her mother’s hands, slight and pale. But the memories of being cared for by those hands were as fragile and faded as the hands themselves. Stronger were the remembrances of her own hands providing succor to the frail woman, battered of body and spirit. She swallowed a hard lump of anger, roundly berating herself for such feelings toward her mother. Her father, not her mother, was the deserving target of her ire. Or better yet she could aim a little fury at her tall, handsome nemesis. She glanced to the curtains. An excellent target, and well within range.

“And that man out there on the stallion, he is an example of the worst sort.” Zel tightened her lips in smug satisfaction.

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