by Renee Roszel
“What if we got married?”
ENCHANTED BRIDES
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Copyright
“What if we got married?”
Pulling from Jack’s touch, Lucy could only stare at him. He shrugged at her lack of response. “Okay, maybe I don’t mean a real marriage. We can fake it. Get somebody to pretend to be a minister”
Feeling weak, Lucy attempted to dry swallow, and gawked at him as he lounged there on her bed, a very large, arresting presence in her small, drab room.
“Next Saturday night, then? You and me—holy wedlock?” Jack’s grin was crooked, teasing.
A strange fog seemed to engulf Lucy’s brain. She had known and loved lack for over fifteen years—like family. But suddenly he was her fake fiancé, whose erotic kiss she was trying hard to forget, and who had just announced their wedding date. Next week!
ENCHANTED BRIDES
The Myth
The stately D’Amour mansion stands majestically in the countryside, its absentee owner rumored to be living in Europe. Closed for years, this mansion has a charming myth surrounding it. Legend says that the mansion is enchanted and that “an unmarried woman who sleeps within its walls on her birthday, when the moon is full, will marry the first man she sees in the morning.”
Married By Mistake! is the second in Renee Roszel’s spellbinding Enchanted Brides trilogy. Look out for Elissa’s story in November 1998.
Also in the Enchanted Brides trilogy
To Marry a Stranger #3470
Renee Roszel can’t believe her good luck: she spends her days writing about the world’s most eligible, most exciting, most sensual men—and she has the power to orchestrate their every move!
She is also amazed by her good luck at having three heroes of her very own—her husband and two sons—who help directly with her research into heroic behavior.
Renee loves to hear from her fans. You may write to her at: Renee Roszel, P.O. Box 700154, Tulsa, Oklahoma, 74170, U.S.A.
Married By Mistake!
Renee Roszel
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN
MADRID • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
To Doug, my husband,
with whom I’ve shared more than half my life.
I love you.
CHAPTER ONE
“LUCY, darling, what—Oh, Lord! Twins!”
Lucy frowned and stretched, then winced as pain stabbed through her hip. What an odd dream. Jack was in it, and he sounded so—so troubled. It wasn’t like him to be troubled. He was an easygoing guy.
She felt another twinge in her hip, and her eyelids fluttered as she fought coming awake. She was so tired. Every fiber in her being cried out to be left alone. But something nagged at her brain, making her battle the urge to fall back to sleep.
As her eyes fully opened, she grimaced in confusion. Why was her head lolling on the seat cushion of an unfamiliar velvet sofa? And why were her legs cramped and twisted awkwardly on the cold, wood floor of—
She jerked up, shocked to discover that she’d dozed off. She couldn’t believe she had actually fallen asleep in such a scary situation. Swiping at her eyes, she cleared away the blur of exhaustion. The flicker of two dwindling candles on a dust-coated end table was her only light, but enough to make it clear that her little sister was no longer sleeping on the sofa. Lucy had been comforting her, holding her hand. But now, she was gone! Lucy jumped to her feet, her heart going to her throat. “Helen?”
In the dimness she could see the newborn baby girls, still on the velvet cushion—such a small, precious bundle—swaddled in her raincoat. Thank heaven for that. Pulling her sweater tighter around her, she began to panic. It was freezing in the old D’Amour mansion, and her sister had just given birth, prematurely, to twins. She was weak and cold, so where could she have gone? “Helen!” When her only answer was silence, fright clutched her by the throat. “Helen!” she cried in desperation. “Please—where are you?”
The sound of someone running filled her ears, and she spun toward the den’s entry in time to see a tall, dark figure appear at the door, just beyond the reaches of the candles’ illumination. With the intruder’s appearance, her heart stopped with dread. What was happening? She was so exhausted, so emotionally depleted, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Or was she hallucinating? Maybe, if she were very, very lucky, she was still asleep. Yes! Yes, that had to be it! She was asleep, and this massive, threatening figure was not there and Helen was dozing peacefully on the couch beside her babies.
Balling her fists, Lucy squeezed her eyes tight, pleading, “Please—please let me wake up from this nightmare !”
Footfalls that sounded all too real advanced across the gritty floorboards. Terror and helplessness surged through her. All she could think of to do was to fling herself across the babies in an effort to protect them.
As she was about to lunge toward the couch, she detected the most incongruous sound. A wry chuckle. At that same instant, gentle hands gripped her upper arms. “Lucy, Lucy...” Her name was spoken with soft urgency, and she felt herself being shaken slightly. “I know I’m not the man of your dreams, but a nightmare? Give me a break.”
That voice! She knew that voice! But it couldn’t be him. Couldn’t be Jack. He was spending the month in Bermuda. His last letter had been mailed from there.
She dropped her fists to her sides and opened her eyes. The first sight she saw was a cinnamon brown gaze, shimmering with melancholy humor. “Jack?” Though the candles were flickering low, their light feeble, she could never mistake those eyes. “Jack!” She grabbed at his shirtfront. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here. Helen’s missing. You have to help me find—”
“Calm down.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve already carried Helen to the car and notified Skaggs Hospital that we’re coming.”
So relieved she couldn’t find words, she hugged him with all her strength. “What—what are you doing in Branson?”
“Oh, the usual.” He held her close, his breath warm against her hair. “You know. Slaying dragons. Rescuing damsels in distress.”
She relished the harbor of his embrace and the comforting sound of his voice more than she could have imagined. Unfortunately, before she was ready to relinquish him, he stepped away. With a nod, he indicated the couch where Lucy’s infant nieces were lying, wide-eyed, in their makeshift bedding. “What do you say we rescue these little damsels?”
She didn’t know how Jack managed it, but she actually felt good enough to smile.
She shivered. The mild March day had turned mean and cold around midnight. The worst possible timing, considering everything.
He must have seen her tremor, for he shrugged off his suit coat and draped it about her shoulders. His body warmth hovered in the fabric along with his pleasant, familiar scent. Gratefully, she slid her arms into the sleeves, hugging herself. The expensive garment swallowed her all the way past her fingertips, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember when she’d needed warmth so badly.
When she looked at him again, he had lifted the babies in his arms and turned to go. She scurried after him toward the front entrance. For some reason, she recalled her odd, coincidental dream about Jack and couldn’t help but ask, “Did you call me darling in th
ere?”
She thought she saw a slight hesitation in his step, then a sharp glance her way, but couldn’t be sure, even under the full moon. He began to lope down the steps, his chuckle rumbling through the night. “Sure,” he said. “I call all you Crosby girls darling. It keeps me from having to remember your names.”
She flushed, feeling ridiculous, and followed him down. “Sorry. I guess I was a little hysterical.”
“Forget it.” He settled the twins into Helen’s open arms, then helped Lucy into the back seat of his luxury rental car. She was startled when he leaned inside. His expression serious, he reached out, smoothing a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. “By the way, happy birthday, Luce.”
He’d ducked out and was in the driver’s seat before she could react. As he started the engine, she smiled shyly, focusing on her knees. She should have realized Jack wouldn’t forget.
One of the babies whimpered, and Lucy’s gaze shot to her little sister. “Helen? Is everything okay?”
The new mother glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Though she looked tired, her expression was happy. “In such good hands as yours and Jack’s, how could anything be wrong?”
Suddenly, Lucy found herself battling down an urge to burst into tears. It wasn’t until this moment—when the crisis was over—that she realized how out-of-her-mind stressed she’d been. Thank goodness the births had been normal.
Jack lifted the receiver of his car phone. “I’ll call the Branson police. Elissa went there to report you two missing.” When he hung up, he relayed the message that Elissa would meet them at the hospital.
Lucy sagged into the plush leather, grateful that Jack was here, handling everything.
A dark thought intruded—the other thing—the Stadler thing—and she bit her lip hard, preferring pain to remembering. This was no time to think nasty, bitter thoughts about heartbreak and betrayal. This was a time for positive thinking. Her glance shifted to Jack’s wide shoulders, then slid forward to scan his long, tanned fingers, curled around the steering wheel. Yes, Jack was a positive subject. She would think about Jack.
Jack had been their stepbrother fifteen years ago. Though he’d only lived in her father’s home for three years, and his mother, Rita Gallagher, had never allowed her dad to adopt him, the Crosby girls had refused to divorce Jack, even when his mother ran off with another man. Though he wasn’t truly a relative, he was very dear to them.
As he chewed up the ten miles to the hospital, Lucy found herself wondering how it was that he seemed to sense when the Crosby sisters needed him.
She marveled that he always seemed to be there.
Lucy accepted the paper cup of vending-machine coffee that Jack handed her. The Skaggs maternity wing was located in the newest hospital addition. Its waiting room was typical of waiting rooms everywhere, unadorned, antiseptic. The alcove was painted in restful hues of turquoise and mauve, with footstep-muffling carpet that seemed unnecessary in the predawn silence.
The furniture consisted of blond, wooden chairs butted armrest to armrest against the walls, the thinly padded seats of dark turquoise only comfortable enough for the most weary human being. But Lucy had no intention of going anywhere. She was that tired and that emotionally drained.
Yet she was also grateful. The doctor had reported that Helen and the babies were going to be fine.
“Where’s Elissa?” Jack sat down in the chair on her left.
“Oh, you know Elissa. She’s pacing somewhere.”
“That’s our Elissa. Little mother hen.” He placed a casual arm behind her. “How are you doing?”
She knew he was referring to Stadler, but she didn’t want to talk about that. The pain of his rejection was too raw, too new. Taking a stalling sip of the burning drink he’d brought her, she nodded. “I’m great. Now that I know Helen and the babies are no worse for the wear.”
“You did a good job.” He grinned down at her. The same, wonderful grin she’d found so comforting when she’d been a timid little girl, afraid of storms, creaking boards and barking dogs. Almost everything, really. Then big, strong Jack had come into their lives, apparently fearing nothing. Seven years her senior, he’d seemed quite grown-up when she’d been eight and he’d been fifteen. “You were smart to put that candle in the window, Luce.”
She couldn’t help but return his smile, though her effort was weak. His scent wafted around her, familiar and welcome. “Thanks. I had no idea you’d be the answer to my prayer.”
An enigmatic, almost pained, expression fleeted across his features. Lucy couldn’t imagine why, but whatever it meant, it was quickly gone. Probably fatigue. They were all reeling with exhaustion.
He cleared his throat. “So, you and your nieces share a birthday.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “I guess we do.” Her laughter bubbled, but lacked much humor. A yawn threatened and she covered her mouth with a hand. Peering up at the man beside her, she shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”
His smile, this time, was less visible. “Extremely. I got to the inn around midnight, after driving from the Springfield airport. When Elissa went to find you and Helen to tell you I was there, she discovered you’d never returned from your walk. We drove around looking for two hours before we split up and she went to the police station. That’s when I saw the candle in the mansion window.”
“It was an afterthought. Helen couldn’t be left alone. The second baby took her own sweet time deciding to be born. I had to do something.”
There was a long pause, and Lucy felt a little uncomfortable, unsure why. “Elissa told me about Stadler,” he finally said. “If you want, we can talk about it.”
At the reminder, her muscles tensed and her heart constricted. All she could do was shake her head. She supposed she’d known the subject would have to come up. After a few strained moments, she managed, “I can’t.” Jack’s face was blurry and she blinked her vision clear. “Not yet. But thanks.”
“No problem.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I can wait.” He pursed his lips as though working to change the subject, bless him. “Where’s Damien?”
Grateful to have something else to think about, Lucy sighed. “He’s in the Denver airport, snowed in. His book tour is just about over. Two more cities.” She took another sip of coffee, then smiled with recollection. “When I talked to him a half hour ago, he pretty much said the tour was over as far as he was concerned. To quote him, he said, ‘I don’t care if my book is number one on the New York Times bestseller’s list and my publisher drops dead from apoplexy. I’m damned sure going to be with Helen and my baby girls as soon as this snow lets up!’” She was happy for her little sister and the staunch supporter she had in her husband. “Damien’s a wonderful guy.”
She noticed that Jack was looking at her in his direct, serious way. His vivid gaze was contemplative. She took a quiet minute to stare back, filling her eyes and her heart with him. It was awfully good to have him there.
His thick brown hair tapered tidily to his starched white collar. His silk tie was loosened at the neck, making him look less like a successful restaurateur and more like the teenage rebel she’d first known.
He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing sturdy forearms. Strong, protective arms that had lifted her out of a tree when she’d gotten herself stuck. Arms that had held her down so that the doctor could stitch up a gash in her thigh after she’d fallen off her bike. She bit her lip at the memory of how she’d shouted at him, telling him she hated him and would despise him forever. Of course she hadn’t meant a word of it. He’d laughed at her, telling her she was crazy for him and she knew it.
She half smiled at the memory. She’d had a terrific crush on him back then. She supposed she hadn’t hidden it well. Running a restless hand through her eternally tousled hair, she had an urge to snuggle in his arms the way she had when she’d been a frightened child. She needed some good, old-fashioned comforting.
“The babies weren’t due until Apri
l, right?”
His question pulled her from her musing, and she flushed, wondering if he would be embarrassed to know she’d been thinking about his arms, of all things. She nodded. “April second. Two more weeks.” Her heart twisted and she had to blink back guilty tears. “Oh, Jack—the whole thing was my fault.”
He chuckled, showing a flash of teeth. “You got Helen pregnant?”
She did a double take, then couldn’t help but laugh at his joke. “Jack, your restaurants keep you too busy. You need to take a course in human sexuality.” She shook her head in mock incredulity, but felt less depressed because of his teasing. Still, as her thoughts returned to the events of the night, her buoyant mood faded. “Really, if I hadn’t been so—so upset, Helen wouldn’t have suggested we take a walk and we wouldn’t have been in the middle of nowhere when she went into labor.”
“Sometimes twins come early, I understand. Don’t blame yourself.”
She glanced at him again, and this time when her lips twitched upward, there was wistful gratitude there. “Did you take a course?”
A dark eyebrow rose. “You just told me I needed to.”
“Not that course.” She slipped into the crook of his arm, yawning again. “Another course—where you learned all the right things to say.”
His pleasant chuckle reverberated through her. Very vaguely, she sensed her coffee cup being lifted from her fingers as overwhelming exhaustion and Jack’s snug closeness ushered her into the land of Nod.
Lucy, Jack and Elissa visited Helen that afternoon after everybody had had a little rest. Just as visiting hours were ending, Damien Lord dashed in, rumpled, unshaven, the image of a man possessed. Lucy smiled at him as he rushed by. He was such a handsome man, eye patch, scars and all.
