Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  “Wh-whatever you think will look nice, I’ll try it.”

  An hour later, with layers of tin foil sprouting out of her head, Emily regretted her impetuousness. “I didn’t realize there w-was so much involved.”

  Kate laughed and used the pointed end of her comb to separate another chunk of hair. Soon, she set down her tools and pulled the apron off over her head.

  “We need to let that sit for a bit.”

  Bending low, s opened the cabinet of her styling station and retrieved a large cloth bag from inside her oversized purse. With a yank on the zipper, she unfolded the bag and laid it open across the counter.

  She smiled at Emily. “What do you think?”

  Emily stared at the bag, stuffed to overflowing with makeup of every shape and shade. She’d never seen some of the utensils contained within the bag’s multiple clear pouches.

  She looked at Kate. “I don’t w-wear makeup very often.”

  “Want me to show you how?”

  Emily gulped. “Uh… okay?”

  Kate squealed and dove for the bag.

  For the next half hour, Emily submitted to Kate’s treatment of her in silence. She didn’t even protest when Kate removed the tweezers from her little bag of torture devices and attacked Emily’s eyebrows.

  A brush in hand, she stepped back and studied Emily a moment. “This is too good. I’m going to turn you around and wait to show you the whole look when your hair is done.”

  After makeup, Kate took Emily to the sinks and yanked the foils from her head. The blow dryer and round hairbrush came out again, and then Kate tugged and twisted at her hair for some time before flitting around her head, wielding a curling iron.

  Just when Emily had worked up the nerve to complain, Kate stepped back, a huge grin on her faultless face. “You ready?”

  Emily’s mouth went dry. With light hair, dark eyes, and pale, freckled skin, she was not an attractive woman. Objectively, she knew that. Certainly, she looked like a fool, having done so much to conceal her average appearance.

  The chair whirled.

  For several long moments, Emily stared at the reflection in the mirror. Her reflection. Except, it didn’t look like her. This girl, Emily didn’t know.

  This girl was pretty.

  The makeup made her skin glow and highlighted the delicate lines of her nose and mouth. A smoky shadow and liner made her eyes appear large and almond-shaped, and a soft light shined from their dark centers.

  The warm blonde strands of her hair intermixed with the deep red undertones, like spun gold threaded through molten fire, which Kate had twisted into an intricate chignon at her nape.

  Tears pushed to the surface. Most of her life, she’d wanted to be somebody else, anybody else, but in that moment, she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone. She was perfectly content to be herself, a pretty girl blessed with unique coloring and well-sculpted features. Her tears pooled.

  Kate paled. “Omigod, you hate it.” She snatched three tissues from the box and lunged at Emily. “We can fix it. Don’t cry. I’ll just—”

  Emily shrank back. “No!”

  Kate froze with a wad of crumpled-up Kleenex in her fist.

  “Please,” Emily whispered. “Don’t ruin it.”

  The mirror ensnared Emily’s gaze again, and words she’d never once thought, not even privately, slipped out. “I’m so pretty.”

  The stone church sat atop a gentle hill overlooking Lake Michigan. The day was cool, though a bright sun took the edge off the chill and a crisp freshness infused the air.

  Having already changed into her dress, Emily left Mina and Vivian in the bridal chamber and snuck out to make one last check of the church.

  Sunlight streamed in through the deep-set stained glass windows and gleamed on the warm woodwork. She’d arrived early with the flowers, placing dark purple and ivory arrangements at the altar and hanging small bouquets with gossamer bows on the end of each pew.

  When the first guests began to arrive, Emily turned and headed for the brides’ room, only to be cut off by a broad-shouldered man stepping into her path.

  “Where’s Mina?”

  She pulled up at Noah’s abrupt manner, and then because of the way the sleek black tuxedo he wore intensified his good looks.

  Wow.

  Deep lines of worry bracketed his mouth and eyes. “She’s here. She’s getting dressed.”

  “Have you talked to her?” He glanced over his shoulder. “How is she?”

  “She’s fine,” Emily said carefully. “Is something w-wrong?”

  Noah’s worry turned to irritation. “She won’t let me in the room.”

  “W-Well, of course, not. It’s bad luck.”

  His teeth flashed in something resembling a smile. “Will you check on her for me? Make sure she’s okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll be r-right back.”

  He touched her arm as she moved by him. “By the way, you look amazing.”

  The blush of pleasure still warmed her cheeks when she ducked into the brides’ room. In her dress, Mina sat in a folding chair, her head in her hands.

  A shiver of worry passed through Emily. She’d heard of brides getting cold feet on their wedding day, but she’d never understood it. Not the fact a woman would get so far as the church before speaking up—Emily could totally understand how that might happen. It baffled her, a girl with so few prospects, how a woman might throw aside a man perfectly willing to get married after she’d gone through all that trouble.

  “M-Mina, are you all right?”

  Her cousin’s head came up, and at her pale complexion, Emily’s worry turned to alarm.

  Mina rubbed her forehead and pushed a sharp puff of air between her lips. Then she dropped her head into her hands. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

  Emily licked her dry lips. “You’re not… having doubts, are you?”

  Mina’s burst of bright bubbly laughter echoed around the small chamber. “No. Not even a little.” She flung herself back in the chair, the smile lingering on her white lips. “It’ll pass. I’m just nauseous.”

  “Nauseous? Are y-you nervous?”

  Mina shook her head. “I’m pregnant.”

  Emily sagged against the door. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to have to sneak you out the w-window. I’m not sure y-you noticed, but w-we’re awfully high up.”

  “Stop, you’re making me laugh.” Mina wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. “I have no idea how to redo my makeup.”

  “Have you told Noah?”

  Mina’s expression softened. “He knows.”

  “Good, because he’s about to beat down the door trying to get in here to see you.”

  “Do not let him in.”

  “I promise. Can I get you anything?” Emily asked. “Some water or juice?”

  Mina nodded. “Some juice might help. There’s this awful taste in my mouth that won’t go away. Do you have a breath mint?”

  Emily pushed away from the door. “Be right back.”

  She slipped through the door and retraced her steps through the church vestibule where guests had begun to gather. Near the altar, she spotted Luke with his brothers. The sight of four tall, great-looking men decked out in tuxedos caused Emily’s brain to freeze.

  Jack entertained the others with a vividly told tale while beside him, Shea, his light hair so at odds with his youthful face and lean, well-muscled physique, interjected with a point of clarification. Noah laughed.

  For his part, Luke wore a mean scowl as he glared down the aisle.

  At her.

  Her heart kicked painfully in her chest as she strode toward him.

  Tipped off by his fierce regard, one by one the others turned as she approached.

  Noah pounced. “How is she?”

  “Giddy w-with joy. It’s disgusting, really.”

  His smug smile teased a laugh from her.

  Then she noticed the soles of two tiny shoes perched on Luke’s shoulders. She t
ilted her head to one side to find the ring bearer hanging upside down, being held at the ankles by his uncle, Luke.

  “Crowd control?” She laughed.

  Luke didn’t.

  She swallowed her smile. “Do you have a p-p-piece of candy? It’s for M-M-Mina.”

  His hands on his shoulders, he angled toward her. “Inside pocket.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped her hand beneath the lapel of his tuxedo. His gaze fixated on her face, caressing every trait and imperfection, while her fingers danced over the hard plane of his abdomen, seeking.

  “Breast pocket.”

  “Oh.” She registered only warmth and his spicy scent.

  “Other side.”

  She found the pocket over his heart stuffed with hard candies.

  “Unca Uke, let me down!”

  Clutching a lemon drop in her fist, she risked one last peek at his dark expression before she retreated down the aisle.

  With juice and candy, some of Mina’s color returned. Just in time, too. As Emily helped pin a cream magnolia into her auburn hair, Isobel poked her head inside the door to let them know it was time to begin the ceremony.

  A small crowd of forty people gathered in the pews, their necks craned to see the procession. Before the altar, Noah and three of his brothers stood shoulder to shoulder. Joyous music cued Emily to begin the walk down the aisle.

  As she made her way to the altar, Luke’s cold green eyes bored into her. What was wrong with him? She couldn’t think of a single thing she might’ve done to warrant his ire. He unnerved, so much so, that by the time she took her place across the aisle from him, her hands trembled.

  Father John, an uncle and father figure to the brothers, presided over the ceremony, and though it took her a moment to catch the rhythm of his thick Irish accent, once she did, she enjoyed both his eloquence and calming presence.

  From her place at Mina’s side, Emily watched Noah, unable to take his eyes off his bride. Love and affection poured from him, and at the sight, an unexpected pang struck Emily beneath her breastbone.

  When the time came to declare their devotion to one another, Mina’s voice trembled and Noah’s filled with emotion. They cried, and so did she.

  The ceremony ended with joyous music and a beaming couple, who led the partygoers out of the church and into the cool fall air.

  As Mina was about to climb into Noah’s car, she turned back and gripped Emily’s arm. “Can you grab my bag for me? I left it in the bridal room.”

  Emily didn’t wait to see the couple off, but scurried up the porch stairs, eager to retrieve Mina’s belongings and be on her way. She wanted to make a quick stop en route to the inn to pick up a bottle of nonalcoholic champagne.

  But as she neared the church doors, she slowed her steps.

  Luke stood beneath the archway, blocking her path.

  “Your hair is sparkling.” He made it sound like an accusation.

  “Kate did it for me.”

  His gaze caressed her face, lingering on her mouth, before snapping back to her eyes. “What did she do to your face?”

  Emily sucked in a sharp hiss of air. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go to hell, but the words jumbled and cluttered and lodged in her throat with no hope of ever getting out.

  With exaggerated calm, she drew herself up and looked him squarely in the eye. “She fixed it.”

  She sidestepped him and ducked inside the church. When she reappeared a few minutes later, he was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fires blazed in the twin marble fireplaces located at either end of the inn’s ballroom and soft light cascaded down from crystal chandeliers. A massive dining table with enough seating for forty or so people ran the length of the room while flickering candles and white pumpkins stuffed with purple flowers decorated the expansive tabletop.

  When he’d first learned his brother planned to marry Mina on Halloween, he’d thought they were crazy. Now, if he weren’t so annoyed, the clever pumpkins and warm ambience would’ve brought a smile to his face.

  Instead, his gaze combed the dimly lit ballroom until he spotted her, propping up the far wall. He circled the room, careful not to let her catch sight of him.

  What the hell had Kate done to her? At first, he hadn’t recognized her. Her bright hair seemed darker, duller, and its soft strands didn’t dance about her head and shoulders as usual. The makeup, heavy and arresting, blotted out her freckles and muted the color of her pure white skin. It concealed everything that was special and different about her. The dress was all right, he supposed. It pushed her breasts up to her chin, which caused his cock to stand with painful vigor, and while it was a nice change from the pajamas she usually wore, it was so unlike her, all glitzy and made for show, he resented it, too.

  Her transformation was both striking and complete, and he hated everything about it.

  Still, he’d been an unmitigated ass to her at the church. He couldn’t explain it, but the moment he saw her, a rage overcame him. Rage that a laid-back guy like him never experienced. Rage that the world wanted her changed.

  Winding his way across the room, he slipped along the wall to stand beside her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She stiffened and snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye. “The drinks are free.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s funny.”

  A frown tugged at the curves of her luscious mouth.

  Her scent teased his nostrils and bit back a curse. She even smelled different. Perfume-y. Not at all like Emily.

  “You know, some women would be flattered by that pickup line.”

  She snorted. “That was a pickup line?”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  She tried to hide a smile.

  He shrugged. “Okay, fine, I’ll admit it. I’m out of practice. I don’t pick up women at bars or weddings anymore.”

  “Reformed, are you?”

  “Disillusioned. At our age, women tend to be either desperately insecure or shamelessly overconfident.” He shuddered. “Neither of which are the least bit enticing.”

  “Gee, thanks. Which am I? Old and desperate or old and ridiculous?”

  “You?” His gaze strayed to her mouth once more. “You’re the exception.”

  An attractive blush stained her cheeks. “Okay, now that’s a pickup line.”

  He smiled, pleased with himself. An easy silence fell between them.

  Until a tiny black-haired woman crashed into their clandestine space. “There you are. Come quick. It’s a disaster.”

  Emily’s dark eyes filled with panic. “Wh-wh-what happened?”

  “The salmon is too dry and the asparagus is undercooked and, oh my goodness, they want to serve a red wine. I don’t know what we’re going to do…”

  Emily scurried after the miniature pit bull, and for the next half hour, Luke remained in her clever hiding place. Honestly, no one noticed him in the shadows, and he had a prime view of all the action. Though none of it held his interest.

  Not the way she did. He tracked her movements as she played intermediary between the pit bull and the waitstaff, fussed with each and every stuffed-pumpkin flower arrangement, twice, and tinkered with the overhead lighting until he suspected she would wear out the wall switches.

  He might’ve laughed at her comical meticulousness, except he couldn’t find the humor in her search for perfection. Around her, guests mingled, laughing and talking and soaking up the ambience she obsessively tended.

  While no one noticed her. Their ignorance only seemed to spur her on. She worked faster, harder, pursuing perfection where it already existed. As though, if she missed some irrelevant detail or overlooked some miniscule nicety, if she tripped up, or stuttered, they’d deem her unworthy.

  Worthless.

  His heart gave a sharp pinch.

  When guests began to search out their seats, he strolled up one side of the table and located his place card between Jack and Isobel. The waitstaff ap
peared to deliver champagne flutes while across the room, Emily and Father John engaged in conversation.

  Her arm swung out to motion toward the chair at the head of the table. She started to turn away, but John stopped her. Leaning close, he made a brief comment before moving to take his seat.

  The color leached from her face as she watched him walk away.

  Luke stilled. He’d never seen someone not in shock turn so ghostly pale as Emily did just then.

  Noah and Mina took their seats in the center of the table across from Luke while Shea, as best man, filled the chair beside Noah. The seat next to Mina remained empty.

  With a quick scan, Luke located Emily hovering near the ballroom doors, as though she’d devised an escape plan and only awaited the exact right moment to execute it. More staff appeared with trays overflowing with plates of food.

  She was the last to sit, approaching that empty seat like a prisoner to the gallows.

  With everyone settled, Father John gave the blessing. After, he remained standing. “I want to thank ye all for being here. My nephew and his bride are grateful to have ye wit’ us to celebrate the start o’ their lives together as a married couple.”

  Luke appraised the contents of his plate, curious what was done to save the dry salmon.

  “You’ve heard enough from me today,” Father John continued. “And so now I’d like to turn things over to the rest of ye. First, our gracious host and lovely maid of honor would like to say a few words. Emily, take it away, me dear.”

  Luke’s head snapped up. Emily was going to speak? In front of everyone?

  One look at her stricken features told him all he needed to know. She was terrified. Her throat worked with a series of not-quite swallows and her dark eyes had filled with panic. Suddenly, she lurched to her feet.

  An apparent afterthought, she plucked her champagne flute off the table. “I w-w-w-want to w-w-w-w–”

  His heart, lodged somewhere near his throat, suffered a gash at the tortuous stammer.

  With a hard swallow, she began again. “To w-w-w-welcome y-y-y-you—”

  A ripple of unease ran around the table.