After Glow
Page 29
“Hepscott blamed me for all his problems,” Lydia said. “So he summoned me to his mansion. He wanted to know where he’d made his mistakes. After he had his answers, he intended to kill me and dump my body into the catacombs where it would never have been found. Then he planned to disappear.”
Emmett put his hand over hers. “He was right about one thing: You were, indeed, to blame for his problems. Because of you, everything went wrong for Gannon Hepscott.”
Mercer contemplated Lydia for a long, thoughtful moment.
“It would seem that the Guild owes you some very large favors, my dear,” he said.
Lydia choked on a bite of cookie. Gasping for air, she yanked her fingers out from under Emmett’s palm and flung up both hands.
“Whoa. Stop. Halt,” she wheezed. “Don’t go there. Forget the Guild favor thing, okay?”
They all looked at her as if she had just suggested that the sun would not rise.
“The Guild never forgets a favor,” Mercer assured her.
36
THREE MONTHS LATER . . .
“SHEESH.” LYDIA STARED at her reflection in the mirror. “This is almost as scary as going through that wall of illusion shadow.”
The wedding gown that Charles had created for her bore the designer’s signature in every detail. It was a mysterious and intriguing combination of ethereal feminine grace and sophisticated elegance. Layers of nearly weightless white silk curved deeply at the neckline, clung snugly around her breasts and waist and then spilled into a sea of skirts and a flowing train.
She could hardly believe that in another five minutes she would be walking down the aisle of the historic Old Quarter Church. Emmett would be waiting for her at the altar.
“Well, a Covenant Marriage is a very serious matter,” Melanie said, uncharacteristically serious herself as she arranged the gossamer veil. “But you don’t really have any doubts about a permanent marriage with Emmett, do you?”
“It’s not Emmett I’m worrying about. It’s that church full of people out there.”
“Relax, you look gorgeous.” Melanie stepped back to survey her handiwork and nodded once, very briskly. “Absolutely gorgeous. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Lydia picked up the bouquet of amber orchids and took a deep breath.
Melanie, wearing an amber-colored bridesmaid dress that had also been designed by Charles, collected her own flowers and prepared to lead the way.
Shrimpton, looking very fine and not nearly as dour as usual in a formal tuxedo, stepped forward to take Lydia’s arm. He patted her gloved fingers with a paternal air.
“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered in a kindly manner. “You look very beautiful.”
She was genuinely touched. “Thank you, sir.”
The church was filled. The groom’s side was packed. Mercer and Tamara Wyatt shared the family pew with Emmett’s mother and her husband and Emmett’s half brother, Daniel, the CEO of the Resonance Guild. Who said dysfunctional families couldn’t get along? Lydia thought.
A host of eminent guests from Resonance City occupied five more rows. The rest of the section was filled with hunters from all ranks of the Cadence Guild.
The bride’s side was full, too. In addition to Zane and his aunt, Olinda, the entire staff of Shrimpton’s House of Ancient Horrors had turned out for the wedding. The remaining seats were occupied by a motley collection of gallery shop owners, ruin rats, and former colleagues from the university’s Department of Para-archaeology.
Charles was in the last pew, looking extremely pleased at the sight of Lydia in his magnificent creation.
At the altar Emmett stood with his best man, Verwood. Fuzz was there, too, perched on Verwood’s shoulder. The dust-bunny wore an amber satin bow that Melanie had tied somewhere in the vicinity of the top of his head.
Emmett turned to watch Lydia walk toward him. She saw the love and the complete certainty in his eyes and her brief attack of bridal jitters evaporated. She forgot about the hundreds of staring people around her.
The man she loved was waiting for her. She went to him with joy in her heart.
Several hours later Emmett unknotted the old-fashioned formal tie, opened the collar of his pleated shirt, and picked up the bottle of champagne. He grabbed a couple of flutes and walked out onto the night-darkened terrace.
Been here, done this, he thought. But he was going to make sure this wedding night went according to plan.
Lydia was stretched out in one of the loungers. The soft lights of the town house spilled through the windows and gleamed on the pale, delicate skirts of her wedding gown.
Fuzz sat on the table next to Lydia, munching a pretzel. He was still wearing the satin ribbon Melanie had tied in his fur. Emmett had tried to remove the silly bow earlier but Fuzz had resisted. Evidently he had discovered a heretofore unsuspected sense of style.
Emmett sat down on the other lounger, poured two glasses of champagne, and handed one to Lydia.
He smiled at her and raised his glass. “To us, Mrs. London. I love you.”
She smiled in the shadows. “To us, Mr. London. I love you.”
They sat together, drinking in the night as well as the champagne and watched moonlight gleam on the spires and towers of the mysterious ancient city.
“Gosh,” Lydia said after a while. “There aren’t any ghosts around and no one seems to be trying to kill us. Do you really think we’ll get to have a nice, quiet wedding night at last?”
“Not if I can help it.” He put down his glass, got to his feet, and scooped her up off the lounger. The skirts of her wedding gown cascaded over his arms. “Nice and quiet was not at all what I had in mind this evening. I wouldn’t want you to get bored on your second wedding night, my love.”
She laughed. The sound danced in the darkness, mingling with the whispers of power that drifted out of the Dead City.
Love, stronger than any psi energy, enveloped them both.
Emmett carried her inside and down the hall to the welcoming shadows of the bedroom.
Out on the terrace the night continued to whisper its secrets. Fuzz moved closer to the bowl of pretzels and helped himself to another snack. He settled down to munch, waiting patiently.
After a few minutes she appeared, hopping down from the roof overhang to crouch on the terrace railing. She was the most beautiful dust-bunny in the world, a lovely ball of shapeless, colorless fluff.
Fuzz held out a pretzel in one paw. She blinked her charming blue eyes and tumbled off the railing to join him on the small table.
Accepting the pretzel with one of her six paws, she moved a little closer and began to nibble daintily.
There was a bowl of pretzels and a full moon over the ancient city. Who could ask for more?
Nights on Harmony were made for love.