Mortified and humiliated, more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life, Larissa raced out the door and down the stairs.
Riding back to Bluefield, she kept telling herself that at least one thing good came out of this terrible morning. No one, other than Jordan and his slave lover, had seen her at Broad Acres. For the rest of her life, she would live with the shame of her foolish action, but at least Hunter never had to know.
It was a long ride back, but once she returned—safe and sound and nearly untouched by her future brother-in-law—the last-minute wedding preparations took her mind off what had happened. Then came her final sitting for her wedding portrait, gowned in shimmering white and a long, mistlike veil, with Hunter’s gift, the moonstone necklace, as her only adornment. But, as she tried to sit still for the artist, her thoughts strayed back to Jordan. She soothed away her unbidden guilt by reminding herself that only hours remained until she would be Mrs. Hunter Breckinridge and all would be well. This morning’s unpleasantness would be forgotten forever.
The bride might not have felt quite so confident had she known of the brothers’ plans for the evening before the wedding.
It was all Jordan’s idea, of course. He was a great one for bachelor parties. He gathered the “boys” from the neighboring farms at Broad Acres to give Hunter a prime send-off into the “stormy waves of matrimony,” as he styled his twin’s coming wedding.
Much bourbon was consumed, many songs were sung, and not a few wenches were bedded before the raucous evening came to an end. By midnight, only the brothers remained, downing one last glass before calling it a night.
The parlor at Broad Acres was a shambles. Empty jugs littered the Oriental rug. Cigar butts still smoldered in ashtrays. A few articles of hastily discarded clothing were strewn about since Jordan had brought Arabella in to share her pleasures with his friends.
“You shoulda given her a shot,” Jordan drunkenly told Hunter. “She’s a mighty fine piece and I should know.”
“I’ve given up that sort of sport,” Hunter answered with a smile. “I’m getting married tomorrow, remember?”
“Hell, how could I forget?” Jordan’s tone turned suddenly belligerent. “But you’ve got every right to partake of what’s offered, brother. Tonight of all nights.”
“I think not,” Hunter answered, rising and stretching as if he meant to leave.
“You aren’t going yet?”
“It’s time. I don’t want to show up for my wedding all worn out and haggard.”
Jordan caught his brother’s coat sleeve and tugged him back toward his chair. “Hey, did you ever think it would come to this?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Jordy.” He yanked his coat free of his twin’s grasp. “Let go now. I really have to leave. It’s a long ride back to Bluefield.”
“You know what I mean. Did you ever think that Larissa would marry you instead of me? I always thought I was the one she had a hankering for.”
Hunter laughed. “I don’t know that she ever showed either of us any special favors.”
Jordan gave a deep, low chuckle. “Oh, you think not? Well, I’m here to tell you I know better.”
“You’re drunk, brother. That’s the whiskey talking.”
“Yeah? Well, whiskey always speaks the truth. And I think you’re rushing into something you’ll be sorry for later.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”
“You’re going to hear it. I don’t care if you knock me on my ass for saying it, but Larissa’s nothing but a damn tease. Why, when she came over here the other morning…” Jordan let his words trail off, as if he’d let something slip unintentionally.
Hunter leaned closer, squinting at his brother. He was not smiling. “Larissa came here? When?”
“She stopped by a couple of days ago—said she was out riding and decided she wanted to see me. Seems she wasn’t quite sure she’d made the right decision. It wasn’t anything. You know how girls are, especially when they’re about to tie the knot. The grass always looks greener, and all that shit.”
Hunter grabbed his brother by the shirtfront and shook him. “What the hell are you saying, Jordan? Spit it out or, by God, I’ll knock you from here to next Sunday.”
Jordan shrugged away from Hunter, looking embarrassed, ashamed. “It’s like you said, brother, I’m drunk. I should never have opened my big mouth.”
“Dammit all, you did open it, so let’s have it. All of it! What the hell happened? And you’d better tell it straight!”
Jordan avoided his brother’s angry gaze. He slumped down in his chair as if he were trapped in some terrible situation, not of his making.
“Nothing happened, Hunter! I swear it.” But the fact that he still refused to meet his brother’s eyes made the words seem pure lies.
“You’d better be telling me the truth,” Hunter warned. “Goddammit, you’d better be!”
Jordan took a long pull at a whiskey jug from the table, then let out a weary sigh. “Hey, it’s all in the family, brother. I mean, even if we had done anything … even if it took and she got pregnant, who’d know? We’re twins—identical twins. Any son of mine would look like yours. So what’s the big damn deal?”
Hunter roared out of his chair and grabbed Jordan. “You stinking, lying bastard! You dirty sonuvabitch!”
Hunter’s right cross to Jordan’s jaw sent him flying across the room, where he crashed into the wall, then slid to the floor in a pool of whiskey. The last thing Hunter noticed before he stormed out was that his twin brother, although unconscious, was still smiling.
“Damn you to hell, Jordan Breckinridge!”
It was on the tip of his tongue to damn Larissa as well. But he loved her too much to curse her name. She was still young, still impressionable, still vulnerable. There was no doubt in his mind that Jordan had forced her to do whatever she had done. Yet he couldn’t deny that the thought of his bride with his brother twisted his gut with jealousy.
“I’ll put it out of my mind,” Hunter told himself as he galloped headlong through the night. “That’s all I can do.
Before he reached Bluefield, he swore to himself a thousand times that he would forget everything that Jordan had said … if he could.
The morning of the wedding dawned bright with promise. Droplets of dew shimmered on the fields of blue-grass and sparkled like newly cut gems in the brilliant sunshine.
Larissa was more than happy to see an end to the night. She’d slept off and on, but the dream had come again to trouble her each time she closed her eyes. Last night, however, the nightmare had changed. At the end, when her gown was afire, no shining bridge had appeared out of nowhere to save her. And sounds of battle had mingled with the crackle of the fire and the screams of the horses. The dream had always been unsettling, but last night it had brought sheer, unrelieved terror.
As hard as Larissa tried to forget the night and think only of her happiness to come as Hunter’s bride, the fear continued to lurk at the edge of her consciousness. She moved about, preparing for the grand occasion as if she were in a daze.
Not until she was gowned and veiled and waiting on her father’s arm to descend the broad stairway did the full impact of her happiness strike her. A tremor of anticipation shivered through her whole body.
“Are you all right, my dear?” her aristocratic, white-haired father whispered.
“Perfect!” she answered, staring up at him through dewy eyes.
“Then smile, won’t you?”
She smiled. Then the music began and they started down.
Not until they reached the foot of the stairs and Larissa spied Hunter did she almost lose her grip. In fact, she nearly stumbled. He had never looked more dashing, more handsome. But she hadn’t expected to see him in uniform. The crisp blue of his coat, the brass buttons, the red sash and gleaming saber. The whole picture of him only served to remind Larissa how little time they would have together.
; Somehow, Larissa made it into the flower-decked parlor to stand beside her groom. She glanced up to see their two wedding portraits, newly hung above the fireplace. Her vision blurred as she stared at them. She seemed to see a double image—two brides, two grooms. Then the moment passed.
Hunter took her trembling hand into his, but his touch seemed different. He didn’t cling to her, caressing her fingers with his as he had the night they made love. His touch was light, almost formal. She guessed he must be nervous, too.
When time came for Hunter to speak his vows, Larissa looked up into his face. Something in his eyes made her catch her breath. She had expected to see the warm light of love shining down on her. Instead, the look she saw in Hunter’s eyes seemed almost haunted, faintly accusing. Once again, she attributed his expression—and what she imagined she saw in it—to wedding-day jitters. His and hers. Once all this formality was over and they could be alone, everything would be perfect between them. Surely, their time together in the gardener’s cottage had proved that.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the robed parson intoned.
Larissa braced herself for a crushing embrace, a long, hard kiss—both of which she would welcome. Instead, her new husband pressed her sleeves lightly and brushed his lips past her cheek, barely touching her flesh.
She leaned close and whispered, “I love you, my darling.”
“Do you?” he murmured back.
All through the celebration that followed, Hunter acted his usual cordial self, chatting with the many wedding guests, toasting his bride with champagne when he was called upon to do so, smiling when he realized it was expected of him. But Larissa knew him well enough to see through the pleasant facade. Something was very wrong!
Jordan arrived late—after the ceremony was over. He looked the color of swamp slime—hideously hungover, Larissa surmised—and sported an ugly purple bruise on the side of his jaw. It almost seemed to her that he sneaked in, then hung back in the crowd, not wanting to be noticed. He never bothered to give his brother a congratulatory handshake or his new sister-in-law a kiss for good luck. Not that she would have welcomed it. Still, his behavior did seem extremely odd.
Late in the evening, Larissa noticed Jordan motion to Hunter. For several moments the brothers stood together, away from everyone else. They exchanged a few words. Hunter looked angry for an instant, then paled. Jordan turned and strode out of the house. The thought of what might have passed between them made Larissa go faint with fear.
Not long after that brief episode, Hunter came to Larissa’s side and touched her arm. “Time for you to toss your bouquet. We’re expected to go to my room now.”
Larissa stared at him uncertainly. No word of endearment, no eagerness to have her all to himself. Only, “We’re expected to go …”
She tested a bright smile on him. “Of course, darling. I’ve been waiting. I thought we’d never get to be alone.”
For a moment, she glimpsed the old light of love in his eyes, but it flickered out quickly. “Time’s come,” he said stiffly.
Hunter hated himself for acting so cold. But he was in pain. Over the years he had broken both arms in accidents, he had been bitten by a snake, stung by bees, and stabbed in the side in a barroom brawl. But no physical agony he had ever known could equal what he was feeling now, on his wedding night. The two people he cared most for in all the world—Larissa and Jordan—were suddenly like strangers to him. They had betrayed him. And he had betrayed Larissa in turn by going ahead with their marriage when he had such grave doubts.
What did he mean to prove? he wondered. That he was man enough to win her from his brother? Man enough to raise his nephew as his son, if she were pregnant with Jordan’s child? But how would he know? They had both been with her—identical twins with the same woman. There would be no way this side of hell to determine which one was the father. So, if Larissa presented him with a child—his own child—he would never know for certain that it was his.
He knew he should confront his bride with his suspicions, but what was the use? Jordan had sworn his tale was the truth. He had lied to cover up their sin, but he was a poor liar under the best of conditions. Drunk, Jordan was even worse at the game.
And now this … this final blow. A few hurried words from his brother had shattered any dreams that remained. Jordan in the Confederate army! It was unthinkable. How long would it be before they met in battle on opposite sides? And who would shoot first?
Hunter felt his heart breaking as he climbed the stairs beside his bride. With her silver-blond hair and her lavender-blue eyes, his Larissa was as lovely as an angel. If only she were all his and truly an angel. He wanted her right now more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He needed her to hold him and soothe away this final insult—this betrayal by the brother who was his other half. He longed to take his bride in his arms and kiss her until she swooned, love her until all the pain was driven away and only sweetness and happiness remained in the universe.
At the door of his room she paused and turned. Were those tears swimming in her eyes? he wondered. Why was she crying? Could it be that she knew she’d made the wrong choice?
“You shouldn’t cry on your wedding night,” he said softly. “You should be happy.”
“And so should you, my love. But you aren’t, are you?”
Ignoring her question, he pushed open the door. “Come inside, won’t you?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. Should I?”
“What do you mean? Of course, you should. We’re married now.”
“But do you love me, Hunter, or has this all been a dreadful mistake?”
His heart twisted into a tighter knot. She was about to tell him that it was over before it ever had a chance to begin. “Of course I love you, Larissa. I always have and I always will. I think I loved you long before we met in this life. And I’m sure I’ll love you if we live again.”
His strange declaration was not what Larissa wanted to hear. She longed for real words of love—words that would make her feel warm and comforted and sure that he needed her as much as she needed him right now.
He took her hand and drew her inside. A moment later, his arms were around her, crushing her against him. His lips moved over her face, kissing her mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks.
“Oh, Larissa,” he moaned. “No more talk. I don’t want to try to sort things out with words. I want to hold you and touch you and fill my eyes with the sight of you so that when I’m gone I have only to will it so and you’ll be there in my mind—in my heart.”
His words seemed so strange. What was it he didn’t want to talk about? Then Larissa realized what it must be. The brief conversation between the two brothers came back to mind. That had to be it.
“Jordy told you tonight, didn’t he.” It was not a question; she was that sure.
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter,” Hunter said, still kissing her neck, holding her close.
“How can you say that? We both know it’s wrong!”
He was tugging at her gown, fumbling at the tiny pearl buttons. “We can make it right, Larissa. Just you and I. We’ll forget about him.”
“How can you say you’ll forget about your own brother and what he’s done? We have to face this and figure out what we’re going to do about it.”
“I’m going to do something about it. I’m going to leave you with my son.”
Larissa failed to note the emphasis Hunter put on that one word. Nor could she think how leaving her pregnant would do anything to change Jordan’s mind about joining the Confederate army.
Soon they were in Hunter’s bed, but he was so different tonight. His lovemaking was neither slow nor tender. He went about it like a man in a frenzy, taking her over and over until Larissa begged him to let her rest for a time. Even as she drifted off to sleep, he continued stroking her breasts, touching her in tender places, nibbling at her shoulder.
Larissa had no i
dea how long she slept before the nightmare began. She only knew that it was horrible and that she woke up crying and screaming, “No! No! Please, no more!”
She realized something else, too, when she came fully awake. Her husband had entered her while she slept. He took her frantic cries personally and rolled away from her.
“Oh, Hunter, I didn’t mean to deny you,” she begged.
“But you couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
He rose from the bed and pulled on his clothes. “I think I’ll get some air.”
“Please, darling, You don’t understand. It’s just a bad dream.”
He looked at her, his expression dark with anger. “Well, at least now you admit it.”
And then he was gone. Larissa sat up all night waiting, but he never returned to their bed.
By suppertime the next evening, Hunter was still missing. He’d left a note downstairs saying that he had to spend his last day readying his troops for their departure. Larissa was disappointed by his absence, but she tried to take it in stride. He would be home before bedtime, she assured herself. After all, this would be their final night together.
Larissa was gowned and robed for bed by the time she heard Hunter enter downstairs. She perched at the vanity, hoping to make a pretty picture for her husband when he opened the door. But the velvet-covered stool grew hard and uncomfortable long before he came upstairs.
When he finally stumbled through the door, Larissa had given up and gone to bed alone. She sat up and smiled at him.
“Darling, I was worried,” she said. “But everything’s fine now that you’re home, safe and sound.”
She purposely failed to mention that, although safe and sound, he was obviously quite drunk.
He stared at her as if he were surprised to see her there in his bed. For a moment, she saw the old light of love kindle in his dark eyes. But the next instant he quickly masked all his emotions.
Once Upon Forever Page 4
