Candles in hurricane globes flickered softly on the high windowsills. Someone, Maeve perhaps, had surrounded them with fresh evergreens and red bows. The scent took Emma back to England, when her rambling, drafty home was decked out in holiday array.
A small group of people milled at the front of the chapel. Mia had refused to give credence to silly superstitions, as she called them, so all the pictures were to be taken with bride and groom together. Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off her. His pride and happiness wrapped his woman in a romantic glow. Cora was passed from arm to arm, everyone fighting for the privilege of holding her.
Emma and Aidan stayed on opposite sides of the group, never making eye contact. No one seemed to notice. The photographer was talented and socially adept. He managed to get what he wanted without making anyone feel rushed or stressed. By a quarter ’til seven, it was all done.
Mia disappeared into a small room at the back, where she would wait until it was time for the ceremony. Her parents took a seat on the front row, left-hand side. Four of Mia’s friends from Raleigh sat behind them. The Kavanagh boys, resplendent in formal wear, settled beside and behind their mother on the opposite side of the church.
The guest list was relatively small. Over the next half hour, thirty or so people drifted in, all of them longtime friends of the Kavanaghs. Emma offered the book and pen as each couple appeared. Standing so near the door, she shivered, but at least she was as far away from Aidan as possible.
At seven twenty-five, a violinist began to play softly. Emma made sure the old paneled door was firmly latched before taking a seat in the back row. Moments later, the musician began playing an evocative piece that echoed Mia’s Russian heritage.
The bride appeared and stood in the center of the aisle. Her eye caught Emma’s for a split second. The two women exchanged a smile. Then as the music swelled and danced, Mia walked slowly toward Dylan carrying a bouquet of red roses and eucalyptus tied with gold braid.
Her traditional wedding gown suited her small frame. White satin with long transparent sleeves, the dress’s simplicity was a perfect foil for the antique lace that covered the bride’s head and reached the floor in back. The veil and pearl-studded headpiece had belonged to Mia’s Russian great-grandmother.
The bridal couple had chosen not to have attendants. Only the robed minister stood with them at the chancel rail.
Dearly beloved...
At that moment, Emma lost her composure. Tears rolled, one after the other, down her cheeks. If she had not made such foolish mistakes when she was younger, she and Aidan might have been married a long time by now...perhaps even had children.
Extracting an embroidered handkerchief that had belonged to her grandmother from her clutch purse, she dabbed her cheeks. This was why she felt so much passion for preserving the past. Tangible objects carried the memories of loved ones. They recalled the beauty of earlier times.
Silver Glen had made a point of preserving its heritage, of telling the town’s story. And on virtually every street, some evidence of Kavanagh influence could be seen. Aidan was a part of that, though he chose to live elsewhere. Would he ever want to come home for good?
All she could see of him at the moment was the back of his head. She was grateful for that. If he had stood beside his brother, Emma would have been hard-pressed to look away.
She refocused her attention on the minister, who was guiding his charges in repeating wedding vows to each other. Dylan, sensitive to his struggles with the written word, had wanted to use the traditional liturgy. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part.
The words resonated, beautiful and timeless.
Even in profile, holding hands, Dylan and Mia looked so happy. The tenderness on his face was almost too personal to witness.
When Aidan became part of Emma’s life in Oxford, he had looked at her much the same way. She had felt his love to the marrow of her bones. Had never doubted him for a minute. Despite what he told her this morning about the timing of his engagement, she knew he had loved her once upon a time.
Maybe she was blind...or ridiculously naive, but she refused to believe that the Aidan Kavanagh she knew in England was that good an actor.
The minister gave the pronouncement. Dylan and Mia faced their guests, arm in arm, beaming. Someone handed Cora to them. Cheers broke out in the small chapel.
There was no recessional. Everyone stood in the aisle, talking and laughing. Emma made her way to the front, hugged Dylan and Mia, and prepared to make her escape.
But she hadn’t counted on Maeve Kavanagh. Emma was four rows away from the back door and a clean getaway when Aidan’s mother hailed her. “Slow down, Emma, for heaven’s sake. You don’t want to be the first one at the reception.”
It didn’t seem polite to say that Emma had planned to avoid the post-ceremony soiree all together. “Did I forget something? I put the guestbook in Mia’s tote bag like she asked me to...”
Maeve shook her head. “This isn’t about the guestbook. I wanted to let you know that I booked a room at the hotel for you tonight.”
“Why would you do that? I live here.”
“We Kavanaghs know how to throw a party. And though this group tonight will be small, don’t underestimate their enthusiasm. We’re going to give Dylan and Mia the send-off they deserve. Which means a late night. Grab a toothbrush and whatever else you need and don’t argue with the mother of the groom.”
“Seriously, Maeve. I’m touched that you want me there, but I don’t know any of your guests.”
“You know Aidan.” Something about the other woman’s sly glance told Emma that Maeve was perhaps a bit too perceptive when it came to her sons. “And here he is now.”
Emma’s stomach flipped hard. Maeve had crooked a finger, and her son, clearly not willing to spoil a family occasion, had come as commanded. But the cold, closed look on his face when he looked at Emma said he was not happy about the situation.
Maeve ignored any tension. “Aidan...I need you to give Emma a ride to her apartment so she can pack a few things. Then bring her up the mountain. I’ve promised her a room.”
“Why?”
Even Maeve faltered at the incredulity in that one syllable. “Well,” she said, soldiering on despite the awkward moment, “she will want to have some wine, at least, and no one should drive that mountain road on a dark winter night when she’s been drinking.”
Aidan shoved the heels of his hands in his eyes. “Mother, you’re meddling...and not very subtly. Emma has a perfectly fine vehicle and impeccable driving skills. If she wants to come to the party, she can come on her own.”
Maeve bristled. “Watch your tongue, Aidan. You might be a grown man, but you’re still my little boy. And I raised you better than that. Apologize to Emma.”
Aidan glanced at Emma, his jaw tight. “I’m sorry. I’ll be happy to give you a ride up the mountain. Let me get my coat and keys.” The bitter sarcasm in his tone was barely veiled, yet Maeve seemed oblivious.
When Aidan strode away, Maeve touched Emma’s arm. “Be patient with him, my dear.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Emma shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable and embarrassed.
Maeve shook her head slightly, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions, the clearest of which was determination. “I saw you leave the hotel this morning, Emma.”
Bloody hell. “Oh, but I—”
Aidan’s mother stopped her with an upheld hand. “It’s none of my business. And I don’t want or need explanations. But I love my son. And I want to see him happy.”
Emma looked toward the front of the church, where Aidan stood talking to James and Conor. She bit her lip. “I think you’ve misunderstood. Aidan doesn’t have feelings for me. At least not the good kind.”
“He’s angry with you right now.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you knew each other before you came here.”
Emma nodded
. She wasn’t a very good liar. “We did.”
“That’s all I need to know. If you have a past with my son, I’m asking you to not give up on whatever this is between you. He can be bullheaded and emotionally distant, but I swear to you that he feels things deeply. Like the silver mines in these hills, sometimes you have to dig through the layers to find what’s worth keeping.”
Aidan was on his way back down the aisle.
“I understand,” Emma whispered. “But there’s a lot you don’t know.”
Maeve patted her arm. “And I don’t need to know. Just remember what I said.” She touched the skirt of Emma’s dress as Aidan joined them. “Doesn’t Emma look gorgeous in this shade of green, Aidan?”
“Stop it, Mother.”
His parent lifted both eyebrows with an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Matchmaking. You’re embarrassing Emma.”
“Am I?” She looked at Emma beseechingly.
With Aidan standing there like judge and jury, Emma had no choice but to tell the truth. “Yes, ma’am. A little bit.”
Maeve waved a hand, dismissing their concerns. “Very well. I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t be long. We don’t want to start the party without you.”
Seventeen
Aidan strode around the corner, retrieved his car and turned the heater on full blast as he approached the church and idled at the curb. The door of the old building opened a crack. Emma spotted him and hurried outside, bundled to the chin as she slid into the passenger seat.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I could have walked back, but I appreciate the lift. It’s colder now than it was when I came. And don’t worry. I’ll drive myself up the mountain.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “My mother has spoken. My life wouldn’t be worth two cents if she found out I didn’t follow her directive.”
The brief drive was silent after that. Aidan parked in front of Silver Memories. “I’ll wait here.” He didn’t want to see Emma’s cozy apartment again. Nor did he want to remember the first time they had made love. Damn his mother for interfering.
He could have told Maeve to go to the devil, but given all that she had sacrificed over the years for Aidan’s sorry hide, he didn’t have it in him to treat her so shabbily. She was simply trying to help in the only way she knew how.
When Emma reappeared carrying a small suitcase, he hopped out of the car, took it from her and placed it carefully in the trunk. After that, neither of them spoke as they made their way up the winding mountain road. Despite the silence, however, he was stingingly aware of everything about his passenger.
Her scent. Her body language. The way her soft velvet skirt spread across the seat, nearly touching his thigh.
This morning he had been so sure about everything. But tonight, seated in a hundred-year-old church, watching his brother marry the love of his life amidst the romantic glow of candlelight, even Aidan’s calcified heart had begun to quiver and crack.
When all was said and done, did it matter that Emma had betrayed him once upon a time? Could he put the past behind him?
His introspection was short-lived. Soon, the magnificent hotel, ablaze with lights, welcomed them. Though all the family benefitted materially from the hotel’s success, Liam and Maeve were the forces behind the day-to-day operations.
As Aidan exited the car and handed over the keys, Emma walked on ahead of him. To any onlooker, it might have seemed as if she were trying to get in out of the cold. But Aidan knew the truth. She didn’t want him to touch her...even something as innocuous as holding her elbow as they ascended the steps.
The elegant lobby was festive and crowded. The long-time concierge, Pierre, directed them to a private room at the back of the hotel. Aidan and Emma were the last to arrive. Only Cora was missing. Dylan’s housekeeper had taken the baby home to put her to bed.
Aidan grabbed a beer and some food and made a beeline for an unoccupied seat near Gavin. His brother shot him a look rife with curiosity. “You not hanging with your girlfriend?”
Stabbing a canapé with a silver fork, Aidan shook his head. “Not my girlfriend.”
“Mom seems to think differently.”
“Mom is a busybody.”
Maeve appeared out of nowhere to thump him on the back of his head. “I heard that.”
Aidan gave her a measured look. “If the shoe fits...”
She bent to kiss his cheek. “My job is to see my children settled happily.”
Gavin blanched. “Don’t get any ideas about me. Two out of seven isn’t bad, Mom.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “When the right woman comes along, I won’t have to do a thing. I love seeing my big strong boys give in to love.” She didn’t pause to sit down. “Pay attention now. Mia and Dylan are about to cut the cake.”
Aidan turned his gaze to the appropriate spot in the room, but he couldn’t help tracking Emma. So far tonight, she had been introduced to Mia’s Raleigh friends, and she had danced with at least three of Aidan’s brothers, including the groom.
As far as he could tell, she was having a wonderful time.
The more Emma glowed, the more Aidan glowered. He’d told her today that he had lied to her and cheated on her. Did she not believe him? Or did his confession not matter at all?
He couldn’t understand her. That infuriated him more than anything. He was accustomed to sizing up a man or a woman at first meeting. Such people skills made him successful in his work.
But Emma remained an enigma. When he was in bed with her, it was easy to pretend she was the girl he knew in England, the young woman who made his life complete.
With a bit of emotional distance, though, his cynicism returned in full force. People didn’t change. If Emma had betrayed him before, it was in her DNA to do it again. No matter how good the sex—and even he would admit that it was pretty damn spectacular—he would be a fool to set himself up for disappointment and loss a second time.
It was bad enough that he loved her. But he would get over that. He had to. He also had to make it clear to her and to himself that whatever her reasons for coming to Silver Glen...he wasn’t interested.
The hours passed slowly. Never once did Emma glance his way. In her deep emerald pin-up-girl dress, she laughed and chatted and danced and partied the night away. He studied her for long chunks of time, trying to decide what it was about her that called to him. Was it the classic features? The golden hair? The female chuckle that went straight to his gut and ignited a slow burn? Seeing Conor pull her out onto the floor a second time made Aidan clench his jaw. But he kept his seat.
Emma could dance with every man in Silver Glen for all he cared.
Only for Mia did Aidan make an exception. His new sister-in-law sparkled with happiness. “I’ve danced with everyone but you,” she said, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his feet. “You’re acting like Scrooge over here in your corner. Don’t make me beg.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, smiling at her with affection. “You’ve made my brother a very happy man.”
Mia returned the smile. “Your whole family has welcomed me so sweetly. It’s a novelty to have brothers after all this time. But I think I like it.” He steered her around the floor, responding to her happy chatter when appropriate. Mia was an exceptional woman in every way. But never once had he felt anything for her other than fondness and admiration.
Even if Dylan hadn’t been in the picture, Aidan wouldn’t have made a play for Mia. Because no matter how foolish and self-destructive it was, the only female who gave him sleepless nights and unfulfilled sexual dreams was Emma Braithwaite.
At the song’s end, he delivered Mia back to her new groom. Then, trying not to be obvious about it, he scouted the room for Emma’s location. She was nowhere to be seen.
He couldn’t ask about her, or he’d risk setting off his mother’s radar. After half an hour, when it was clear Emma hadn’t merely slipped out to the restroom, Aidan gave the bri
dal couple and his mother one last set of hugs and said his goodbyes. If they were suspicious, they gave no sign.
In the lobby, he hesitated. Everyone on staff knew him. It wasn’t as if he could make an inquiry on the sly. So he might as well sin and sin boldly.
He approached the check-in area, giving Marjorie, the desk clerk who had known him since he was a boy, his best winsome smile.
Lowering his voice, he leaned an elbow on the granite counter. “Can you please give me Emma Braithwaite’s room number? She slipped out before I had a chance to tell her good-night.”
Marjorie eyed him with a wry twist of her lips. “Is this going to get me in trouble, Aidan?”
He held up his hands. “Not at all. I swear.”
Shaking her head, she jotted the number on a slip of paper and pushed it toward him. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“I’m on my best behavior.”
She snorted. “When it comes to Kavanagh men, that definition has all sorts of interpretations. Good luck.”
“With what?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“The pretty English lady. You could do a lot worse.”
“Forget that,” he chuckled, though his throat was tight. “I haven’t caught wedding fever, despite all the festivities. This confirmed bachelor is completely content with his lot.”
* * *
Emma unpinned her hair and brushed it out. After taking off her stockings and shoes, she curled up on the sofa. Though this room was nowhere near as large as Aidan’s suite, it was nevertheless extremely luxurious. More for company than anything else, she turned on the television and muted it.
Two different channels were showing the classic holiday movie White Christmas. She paused on one, but it was late in the film. Rosemary Clooney and Bing Crosby had argued and were in the midst of a party, trying to ignore each other. The similarities between the fictional couple and Aidan and Emma were hard to miss.
Even Rosemary’s clothing struck a chord, perhaps the reason Emma had ordered this particular style and color for Mia’s wedding. She couldn’t bring herself to take off the dress yet. The soft green velvet buoyed her spirits and made her feel feminine, despite her sad mood.
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