His Brother's Christmas Bride

by Aislinn Kearns

  He could wish them happiness, at least. He believed that much, even if his heart was breaking.

  “The main table will be up there?” Will asked, pointing to the bay windows at the back of the room.

  “That’s right.”

  “And the dance floor will be here,” he finished, indicating where he was standing. “So I know where to avoid.”

  She laughed, and the sound warmed him. He sure did like making her happy. “Don’t forget, I’ve seen you dance. You’re not bad.”

  “Please. Dancing to Christmas music is not the same as embarrassing myself in front of a hundred guests.”

  Molly shrugged. “Regardless, you better save at least one dance for me.”

  Will swallowed thickly at the sudden image of her in his arms. In a wedding dress, no less. He managed to nod, but he couldn’t risk saying anything for fear he’d blurt out something he couldn’t take back.

  “Anything you’d change in here?” she asked.

  The groom. “Nothing. Looks great.”

  “Yay!” She bounced on her feet in that way she had when she was extra excited. Christ, she was adorable. “I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  Her eyes were stricken as she stared up at him, practically begging for reassurance. Will stepped forward and cupped her shoulders, unable to resist the chance to touch her again.

  “Hey, it’ll be great. I promise. You’ve been on top of everything this whole time.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  “Yes. So, take a deep breath. You’ll get through this.” If Will was a worse man, he’d play on her insecurities, convince her to stop the ceremony. He could only be relieved that apparently he wasn’t that far gone—he wanted Molly and Peter’s happiness more than his own.

  Molly followed his advice, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Then, she nodded. “Okay, I’m better. Thank you. Sometimes when I get worked up about something, anxiety gets the best of me.”

  “No problem.” Reluctantly, he released her and stepped away.

  Molly turned to peer out the nearest window. “Now that the sun is all the way up, we’ll run through the ceremony in the glade. This will be the most important part, so we have to make sure it’s right.”

  Will nodded, though unease pooled in his gut at what that might entail.

  They dressed warmly. This time, Molly had her own coat, and Will hated the kick of disappointment in his gut at the sight. He liked her in his clothes. Liked her in his house, in his life. He’d like her even better in his bed.

  He was sick, that was all there was to it. He was a sick bastard. No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t get these thoughts out of his head.

  And the worst of it was, he wasn’t entirely certain Molly wasn’t feeling it, too. The way she watched him sometimes, with longing and heat, made him think he wasn’t alone.

  Which was far, far worse.

  He could deal with his own feelings, particularly if they were unrequited. Shove them as deep as they’d go and pretend they weren’t there until they eventually disappeared. But every time Molly gazed at him with that spark in her eyes and her lips slightly parted on a heavy breath, he was tempted all over again.

  If Eric had felt even a fraction of this for Ann, then Will could dredge up an ounce of sympathy for his former friend. Will still couldn’t forgive the man—he still could have chosen to control himself, as Will was doing—but it wasn’t necessarily as easy as Will had always believed.

  Will and Molly trudged through toward the woods, their footprints side-by-side in the snow. An image that made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

  His attraction to Molly could simply be loneliness. He hadn’t been around a woman for long periods of time since the divorce, and perhaps he’d simply latched onto her because of that.

  But, no. Deep down he knew it was this woman.

  She was everything he’d wanted. More perfect for him than Ann had ever been. And he thought he’d be good for her, too. She’d uplift him, while he’d ground her.

  He kicked at some snow, though the soft powder didn’t produce the solid hit he longed for to help him exorcise his frustrations. He hated this. Hated thinking this, hated believing that she and Peter wouldn’t work together. Why couldn’t they see that? And why couldn’t he simply be happy for them?

  “Hmmm, I’ll have to consider how I’ll get some of the less mobile guests into the glade. It’s only a five minute walk, but that can be a lot.”

  “Particularly when people are in their finery,” Will said, forcing his mind away from his self-pity.

  She nodded. “I’ll get the snow melted. Maybe hire a golf cart. I’ll figure something out.”

  Will admired her determination and flexibility. She was surprisingly good at planning a wedding for an interior designer. Though, she’d said it was a new business. Had she told him what she’d done before opening her company? He didn’t believe so, but it was possible it involved event planning.

  She opened her notebook and scribbled something. Will peered over her shoulder, only to see “GOLF CARTS???”, which gave him no clues as to what secrets that book kept.

  He opened his mouth to ask Molly about the names in the book, about what they meant, then snapped it shut again. Was it his place? Surely Peter should be the one to confront her, if she was conning him? And if that was the truth, what would her purpose be? She was clearly spending a lot on this wedding, so he doubted she could pocket much of Peter’s cash and then run before the ceremony if that had been her plan. And he hadn’t noticed any valuables missing in the house.

  He was missing something, and it ate at him.

  There wasn’t much he could do about it now. If he could make it through this last run through of the ceremony, then Peter would likely arrive. Will would simply take Peter aside, tell him his suspicions, show him the book, and let him make the call. That was sensible, right? If Peter didn’t believe him, at least Will would’ve tried.

  If Will did anything more than that, would he be acting out of jealousy, rather than with Peter’s best interest at heart? He didn’t want to sabotage Molly and Peter’s relationship out of envy, he really didn’t.

  They made it to the glade, and Will forcibly pulled his mind to the matter at hand. It was a beautiful spot with barely enough room for all the guests. Trees towered over them, and only a soft light peeked through the canopy. Snow dusted the higher branches, but not much had made its way to the forest floor. Instead, pine needles sat beneath his feet, and they combined with the rich, damp earth to create an intoxicating scent.

  It was magical in these shadows. No wonder that he, Peter, and Danny had often dreamt up stories where fairies and other magical creatures ruled beneath these boughs.

  Despite himself, Will could acknowledge this was the perfect spot for a wedding. Even his unromantic heart recognized that.

  “The chairs will be lined up on either side, here,” Molly said, indicating. Will nodded, picturing it. “Your arch will be here, so, if we time it right, the sun will set behind the happy couple as the vows are said. The photography will be beautiful.”

  Her voice was wistful and Will’s heart lurched. Hopefully, this ceremony would be everything she hoped for.

  She snapped herself out of her daydream. “Let’s switch places.”

  “Um, why?”

  “We’ll do a run through. I’ll be the bride, you’ll be the groom. Just quickly, to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  Before Will could refuse, and tell her what a horrible idea it was for him to pretend to marry her, because he was already struggling to separate fact from fiction, Molly grabbed his arm and dragged him into place.

  “Okay, you stand there, while everyone finds their seats. Then music, flower girl, bridesmaids, etcetera.”

  Will blinked rapidly, trying to process her slightly manic energy.

  “Then the music will change to Wagner’s Bridal Chorus.” She hummed a few bars of “H
ere Comes the Bride”, then raced off and stepped behind a tree. Will found himself standing where she’d left him, his hands crossed at his front in the traditional pose of anxious grooms the world over.

  His head was already spinning. But when Molly stepped from behind that tree, still humming the bridal march, his knees went weak. She walked in that slow, measured pace, as if she, too, was imagining herself as the bride. The long white dress, the veil.

  She reached Will and grinned up at him. He smiled at her, his heart full.

  “Dearly beloved,” she whispered, maintaining eye contact. “We are gathered here today, and so on.”

  “Some vows will be said. For better or for worse, that kind of thing.” His voice came out breathless.

  “Right. And then…” She paused for a moment and licked her lips. Her gaze still burned into his, and he swayed forward until he was only inches from her lips. “You may now kiss the bride.”

  He didn’t know what devil possessed him. Something about the romance of the moment, the woman, the look in her eyes.

  But Will did precisely what he swore he wouldn’t do. He kissed his brother’s fiancée.

  It was a soft brush of lips, tender and sweet. Part of his mind—his conscience—screamed at him to step away, to break the kiss. But he couldn’t bring himself to listen to it. Not when she tasted like a dream.

  He slid one hand around her back, pressing her closer. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek. She made a small sound of pleasure at the back of her throat, and he deepened the kiss in response, heat racing through his veins.

  God, he wanted her.

  “Will,” she whispered against his lips.

  The word was like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head. He immediately released her and stepped back, chest heaving.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, as horror washed over him. What the hell had he done? His lungs clenched tight, as if being gripped by a vise. He couldn’t undo this, or pretend it never happened. He’d kissed his brother’s fiancée.

  This was an utter nightmare.

  He’d become what he hated most.

  “Don’t be,” Molly said with a grin, and bafflement seized him. How could she be calm about this? How could she act like nothing had happened? As if they hadn’t destroyed everything?

  Before he could stop her, Molly grasped the lapels of his jacket and wrenched him down, planting her lips on his. For a brief, shining second, Will reveled in the sensation of their lips pressed together. It felt so right, was exactly where he wanted to be.

  But then he remembered.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, wrenching his mouth from hers.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  Molly blinked up at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? How can you say that? You know exactly what’s wrong.” His lungs were impossibly tight, now, and Will was concerned he might actually pass out from lack of oxygen.

  She frowned, hurt entering her eyes. “Um. No. I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

  “You know my history. And you still do this?” Panic rose, clawing at his throat. How would he tell Peter? How could he tell the brother he owed everything that he’d betrayed him?

  “I’m still confused. You definitely kissed me first.”

  “Yes. And that was a giant mistake, wouldn’t you say?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Well, I wouldn’t have until now, no.”

  Why was she acting like this wasn’t a massive deal? She was about to marry his brother, and they’d kissed. As in, cheated.

  “I need to go,” he said, more to himself than her. He had to get out of there. Had to clear his spinning mind, figure out how to tell Peter.

  “Why are you being such an asshole?” Molly ground out from behind him.

  Will whipped around. “We shouldn’t have done that, Molly. I’ve lost all respect for myself. And I’ve lost all respect for you.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “Because of a kiss? Between two consenting adults?” The wobble in her voice almost broke him. But Will straightened his spine, shoring up his immunity to her. He couldn’t cave now. Not when he still had an ounce of self-respect left. No matter how much it hurt him to see her like that.

  “A kiss is more than enough to ruin everything.” His voice was as rough as sandpaper.

  With that, he turned and strode toward the house, holding himself tall to stop himself from crumbling.

  Chapter Nine

  Will was already in his room when he heard angry footsteps and a door slamming. He winced, guilt piercing him. He’d been equally angry at both himself and her, but she’d taken the brunt of it.

  He might apologize later. But given her obliviousness, maybe he wouldn’t.

  How could she not have understood why what they’d done was wrong? Or she might, but her own moral compass didn’t see it as an issue. Or she was a con artist, and she was playing him and Peter off against each other.

  He had to know. He had to find out, once and for all, who this woman was. She was such a contradiction, and he was desperate to understand.

  Will yanked open the door to his room, fueled by curiosity and frustration and anger. He stormed to Molly’s door and pushed it open without knocking.

  “Seriously, what the hell—” He stopped, the words dying on his tongue.

  “Get out, Will,” Molly growled, and then sniffed, ruining the effect. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy. All her belongings were strewn across the bed, and she barely paused in shoving them into her suitcase to glare at him. “I’m serious, get out.”

  “You’re leaving?” he asked stupidly.

  “Of course I’m leaving,” she bit out. “I won’t stay in a house with a guy who treats me like dirt over a kiss, for God’s sake.”

  “Wait a minute…”

  “Forget it.”

  She hurriedly shoved more clothes into the suitcase, not bothering to fold them. Another suitcase lay open at the foot of the bed, holding fabric swatches, binders of images, different kinds of tapes, sewing kits, and all other kind of paraphernalia. It wasn’t precisely the kind of things he’d expect a bride to cart around with her. Where was the dress? The shoes?

  Before he could figure out what that meant, the sound of car tires on gravel reached him.

  He pushed into the room, ignoring Molly’s protest, and strode to the window.

  Peter’s car. Of course.

  “He’s here.”

  “Well, I’ll leave it to you to explain why I’m racing out of here early, shall I?” she sneered. She violently closed the zippers on her suitcases and lifted them with more strength than he’d expected from her.

  “Wait—”

  She hesitated for a brief second. “You know, I really liked you, Will. But clearly you’ve got way more issues than I believed. My advice? Get yourself sorted out.”

  With that, she strode from the room, head held high.

  Will stared after her, dumbfounded. This was his fault? Well, yes, he’d initiated the kiss. But that wasn’t what she’d been mad about. She’d been mad about his behavior afterward. But why?

  What the hell was going on?

  He shook himself out of his baffled stupor and raced out the door after her. She was already in the hall, about to step out the front door.

  “Molly, wait.”

  She glanced his way, and his heart broke at the miserable expression on her face. The, she turned and stepped out of the house.

  Cursing, Will raced down the steps. What did he intend to do? Stop her? Apologize? Kiss her again? He had no idea, only that he couldn’t let her leave, not until he understood what was going on.

  He reached the entrance way and burst outside, sucking air into his lungs. His eyes met Molly’s through the driver’s side window. She narrowed her gaze, and before he could call out, she threw the car into reverse and rocketed along the driveway.

  “Hello, Brother.”

  Will transferred his g
aze to his brother, where he was standing in the open driver’s door. “Peter.”

  “What on Earth did you do to Molly?”

  Will stared in the direction she’d gone, as if she might appear again. “I wish I knew.”

  Peter raised his eyebrows. “You expect me to believe she reacted like that and you don’t even have a suspicion?”

  Will eyed his brother for a long moment. His heart was begging him to run after Molly, to fix whatever had happened between them, or at least understand. She hadn’t reacted at all the way he’d expected, and it was making him question everything.

  But his head told him that he needed to fix what had happened with his brother, first.

  “We need to talk,” he said, dread replacing the adrenaline that had raced through his veins moments before.

  Peter blinked. “Well, that sounds ominous.” Peter made no move to follow Molly, either. Didn’t he want to check if his fiancée was okay?

  “Yeah.” He didn’t know how to sugar coat it. What he had to tell his brother would devastate him. It could change everything about their relationship.

  “Alright. But first, I want you to meet Nina.”

  Will blinked.

  Peter gestured across the car. The passenger side opened, and Will saw black heels with a red sole beneath the car door. And then Nina elegantly slid out. Tall, slender, blonde. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and pearl earrings dangled from her lobes.

  She wore a black dress that fit her like a glove and a coolly polite expression.

  This was the kind of woman he’d always imagined for Peter. Unease curled in his gut at the thought. Who was this woman?

  “You must be William,” she said, in a lightly accented voice. English? Swedish? Will couldn’t tell.

  He nodded dumbly.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Though I must ask…what on earth did you do to my wedding planner?”

  The words took a moment to penetrate. Will sat heavily on the entrance steps as his legs gave out. His head buzzed for a long moment, projecting white noise and nothing else. Finally, his mind came back in snatches, with only one thought front and center: Wedding planner? Molly was the wedding planner?