A Bride For Abel Greene (10 page)

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Authors: Cindy Gerard

BOOK: A Bride For Abel Greene
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Abel Greene could claim he didn’t care until the snow melted. For his sake she wasn’t going to buy it. His sake and hers and Mark’s. If for no other reason than that he was giving her brother back to her, she was going to make him see the light.
She brushed away a tear with her gloved finger. “You’re a melancholy sap, Kincaid,” she sputtered with a sniff, and refocused her thoughts. “And today you’ll become a wife.”
Bless J.D. and Maggie and Scarlett. As soon as Abel had given the nod, they’d sprinted into action, determined to make this a special, memorable occasion.
As Abel had complacently let them prepare the cabin for the ceremony, she’d gotten an even stronger sense that he wasn’t dreading it as much as he let on.
“At least the part that involves the marriage bed,” she whispered aloud, drawing in a deep breath of cold, bracing air.
She’d made some big promises that first morning in his kitchen. Promises that went far beyond what her limited sexual experience could fulfill. What if she disappointed him?
What if he disappointed her?
A nervous laugh burst out with thought, ringing softly through the forest. As if a man like that could possibly disappoint any woman.
“I can’t believe you can find anything to laugh about.”
She whipped around at the sound, her laughter drifting away at the defensive set of Mark’s shoulders and the darkness of his brooding scowl.
While he had come a long way she’d sensed his seesawing emotions during the wedding preparations of the past two days. She had been tempted to ask. But she’d also learned something about patience in dealing with her brother. Mark had come out here for a reason. If he wanted to talk about it, it was up to him to initiate the dialogue.
So she waited, instead of prodding him.
Finally, after looking at everything but her, he let it out. “You’re marrying him because of me.”
She stuffed her gloved hands deep into her pockets. “I’ve made worse bargains in my life.”
Tears filled his eyes. Tears he quickly blinked away with an angry jerk of his chin and enough determination to will the wind to stop. “You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to bargain because of me.”
“If not for you,” she said quietly, “then who should I bargain for?”
He hunched his shoulders and showed her his back.
“I love you Mark,” she added after a stretch of silence. “But I’d lost you and I wanted you back.”
Head down, he plodded to a jack pine and picked absently at the bark.
“I like it here.” His voice was choked with more guilt at the admission. “I don’t want to go back to L.A. If I was a man, I’d lie and tell you I did. I’d convince you I wanted to go back so you could go back to your life. And then you wouldn’t have to marry him.”
Her own eyes filled with tears as she walked up close beside him. “I thought you liked Abel.”
He sniffed and batted at the tree trunk with a booted foot. “I do. But you’re the one who has to marry him.”
She reached for him then, cupped his slim shoulders in her gloved palms and turned him to face her. “He’s a good man, Mark. I could do worse. Much worse. And here’s something else you need to know. I like him. I like him a lot.
“This is going to be good,” she assured him, responding to the turmoil in his eyes. “For all three of us.”
His look held so much guarded hope she threw caution to the wind and tugged him into her arms. The old Mark would have backed angrily away. The new one let her hold him.
“I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I think maybe Abel needs us as much as we need him.”
Her statement brought a snort from him and the last of his patience with her sisterly embrace. He pried himself out of her arms. “Abel doesn’t need anybody.”
The simple, straightforward words spoke of hero worship. She understood that. She also understood that Mark had just voiced her biggest fear where Abel Greene was concerned.
For the first time since coming outside, she felt a deep, worrisome chill. She prayed that Mark was wrong. She prayed that in the days, the weeks, the years to come, that the man she was going to marry would come to care about and need her as much as she did him.
“Come on,” Mackenzie said, pushing her concerns aside and heading for the cabin. “Let’s go see if everything’s ready up there.”
Including the bridegroom, she thought, pushing aside the fear that he might leave her standing at the altar.
Seven
T
hey’d turned the cabin into a cathedral. Maggie and Scarlett insisted that with its lofty ceilings and towering windows it hadn’t taken much effort. Mackenzie knew better.
Candles burned everywhere. Red candles. Green candles. Milky white candles. Long slim tapers were surrounded by holly and pinecones. Tiny votives floated in cranberry-studded crystal bowls. Thick, slow-burning house warmers were trimmed with ribbons and bells. Their soft light flickered in every windowsill, on the low accent tables and across the evergreen-draped mantel that was to be their altar.
The cabin was redolent with the scent of hot, spiced cider, cinnamon and evergreen. Poinsettias—vibrant red, mottled pink, speckled white—graced each step of the loft stairs and joined the candles on the mantel.
Yesterday, J.D., Mark and Casey had trooped into the woods, searched for and found the perfect Christmas tree, which they’d cut down and dragged home with the help of the team of Belgian horses.
Over twelve feet tall, the tree sat regally in a prominent corner of the living room, adorned in twinkling lights, glittering garland and sparkling ornaments that Scarlett had generously shared from the supply she used to decorate the rooms in the Crimson Falls Hotel.
The overall effect was beautiful. And remarkably, Mackenzie actually felt that she was worthy of being a part of the picture. She caught her reflection in the tall living room windows as she emerged from the bedroom and hall... and allowed herself a secret smile.
With Maggie and Scarlett’s enthusiastic assistance, she’d been transformed from plain Mackenzie Jane Kincaid into a passably acceptable bride.
When Maggie had insisted on taking her to town to shop for a dress yesterday, Mackenzie had been in a quandary about how to tell her that she didn’t have the money. Finally she’d just blurted it out.
“Not a problem,” Maggie had said easily, and bundled her into their four-wheel-drive Jeep and peeled out of the lane. “Abel said to get you anything you needed and he’d take care of it.”
She’d had to chew on that for a while, but finally decided she wouldn’t fight it. Abel had said he’d provide for her. He was simply keeping his word. She felt even better when Maggie added, “He knows this is awkward for you, and he wants to make it as pleasant as possible.”
Pleasant
didn’t begin to describe how she felt, dressed in the emerald green wedding dress.
Glowing
came closer, though she would never before have thought in a million millennia that that adjective could ever apply to her.
True, it wasn’t the traditional white silk and lace. But then this wasn’t a traditional wedding.
They’d already purchased her new coat when her gaze had snagged and held on the silky soft wool crepe in a surprisingly upscale dress shop in Bordertown.
“Try it on,” Maggie had suggested with an encouraging smile.
When she’d stepped self-consciously out of the dressing room and was met by Maggie’s sparkling eyes and her adamantly whispered “Yes,” she knew she’d made her choice.
Mackenzie touched a hand to her hair, which Scarlett’s clever hands had fluffed and styled. Delicate sprigs of baby’s breath—an impromptu offering from Casey—had been tucked artfully among the soft curls in place of a veil.
Smiling at the whimsical effect, she trailed her hand down to the softness of the gently draping drop neckline of the dress. The sleeves were long, drifting over the backs of her hands in soft folds to mirror the neckline. The skirt fell away in flowing lines across her hips, ending midway between her knee and ankle.
She’d never felt so feminine or so vulnerable, she realized, as she pried her gaze away from her image to meet the dark, unreadable eyes of her bridegroom.
Her breath caught. Her chest filled. Her heart erupted as she took in the sight of him standing there.
She’d seen him savage. She’d seen him sullen. She’d never seen him tamed. A suit—as dark as the hair he’d tied at his nape with a thin black ribbon—both confined and defined the hard edges of his warrior’s body. His civilized white shirt only served to emphasize the stunning contrast of his bronze skin against it.
But it was his eyes that relayed the true measure of the man waiting for her at the altar. Behind those eyes was a man of honor. A kind and caring man, who needed her to help him find the way.
His eyes weren’t fooling her any longer. Once, she’d thought they were unreadable. They spoke volumes to her today. And what they said made her heart sing with hope.
Clutching her bouquet of holly berries, winter white carnations and red roses, she walked unerringly toward him.
Oblivious to anything but the man waiting for her, she passed J.D. and Maggie where they stood sharing a loose embrace and soft, indulgent smiles. Unaware of Scarlett’s and Casey’s grins as she passed, she approached the altar. Cognizant of Mark’s searching gaze, she reassured him with a quick smile and slipped to Abel’s side.
He took her hand. And though she hadn’t been prepared to, she gave him her heart.
 
In a blur of velvet black eyes, flickering candles and murmured responses, Mackenzie Kincaid became Mrs. Abel Greene.
In a marathon of champagne toasts, warm hugs and laughing congratulations, she was enveloped in his circle of friends.
And finally, in a haze of nervous anticipation, she watched as J.D. and Maggie, along with the minister, pulled out of the snow-packed lane.
“You don’t have to worry about Mark.”
Abel’s dark eyes were hooded as he watched her face.
Scarlett and Casey had left just ahead of the Hazzards. Insisting that the newlyweds needed some time alone, they’d taken Mark to the hotel with them to spend the next few days.
“This time of year we’ve got more empty rooms than J.D. has one-liners,” Scarlett had said, grinning as J.D. made a stab at looking wounded. “School’s out until after Christmas vacation, so Casey will be at loose ends, anyway. She can show Mark the lake—maybe even introduce him to some of her friends so he won’t start the semester completely in the dark.”
Mackenzie had recognized Mark’s initial response as what he’d felt was an obligatory grumble—and maybe a little protective concern for her—before he’d shrugged and mumbled, “Whatever.”
“I’m not worried about him.” She turned back to the window. “I’m a little concerned for Scarlett and Casey, though,” she added with a small smile.
“They can handle him.”
But can I handle you?
she wondered. She wished she didn’t feel so skittish as her husband loosened his tie and tugged it slowly from his collar.
Her husband.
The prewedding jitters had just kicked in—and only about two hours too late, she thought with irony.
Story of my life.
For all of her earlier confidence, the reality of being married to this man finally sank in. He’d seen to everything with a quiet confidence and authority—from acquiring the marriage license to selecting the ring she now wore. She hugged her fingers around the solid gold band, stroked its shining warmth and knew that the identical ring he wore held the heat of his body, too.
Suddenly she didn’t know what to do with her eyes, or her hands, or for that matter with herself.
Aware that he was watching her, she walked on stiff legs to the fire, drawing on its hypnotizing warmth to sooth her.
“I’m not going to jump you.”
The darkness in his voice startled her. His eyes were even darker when she whirled around to search his face.
Breathless, she watched him drape his tie over the back of a chair and loosen the top two buttons of his shirt.
“It...it didn’t occur to me that you would.”
In truth, she hadn’t let herself think about this moment. When she’d pictured them together—and she had, numerous times—they’d been far beyond this preliminary dance where all the right steps seemed to elude her.
In her fantasies, she’d said “I do.”
The camera faded to black. Next scene: Soft light. Flickering candles. Big bed. A man and a woman entwined in each other’s arms—naked, needy and with carnal knowledge of all the secrets and pleasures she’d been so anxious to learn.
“Would you like some more champagne? J.D. would be disappointed if he thought it was going to waste.”
She forced a smile and told herself to settle down. “He was pretty proud of himself for finding it.”
He nodded. “A resourceful man.”
“And a good friend,” she prompted; searching for some level ground, when each step felt like an uphill climb.
The silence lengthened, and she realized he was still watching and waiting for her answer.
The problem was, she’d forgotten the question.
He lifted the bottle. Tilted his head.
“Oh. Sure. If you’re having some.”
He considered, then poured them each a glass.
Walking slowly to the fire beside her, he extended the sparkling champagne.
With a trembling hand she lifted it to her mouth, then almost dropped the glass when he said her name.
“Mackenzie.”
His voice was as soft as the candlelight. Her name on his tongue like a velvet caress.
“The dress is nice. It matches your eyes.”
His words surprised her so, she felt a flush that had nothing to do with the fire’s heat spread across her cheeks.
Where was her smart mouth when she needed it? Mackenzie Kincaid, who had a one-liner for everything, couldn’t think of a single thing to say, while Abel Greene who spoke only when provoked, seemed to have no such problem now.
“You look very pretty today.”
The man was a complete and total enigma. He claimed he was incapable of emotions, but he knew how to melt her heart with pretty words and haunted eyes. And a solid gold band.
She lowered her lashes and groped for composure.
“Is it that hard...accepting a compliment from me?”
The edge in his voice brought her head up. The look on his face gave her pause.
“No. Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I just...I didn’t expect it. And the truth is...I haven’t had much practice fielding...compliments.”
Embarrassed by the wistfulness of her confession, she felt herself flush again. She took a long sip of champagne, then, prompted by the protracted silence, braved a glance his way.
She lifted a shoulder in a self-conscious little shrug. “I’ve never thought of myself as pretty.”
Exposing her fears and her feelings to a man who professed to have none heightened her sense of vulnerability.
“Thank you,” she said belatedly, then gave in to the demands of her pride. “But you didn’t have to say it. In case it’s slipped your mind...” She held up her left hand reminding him of the solid gold band on her ring finger. “I’m a sure thing.”
He didn’t say anything as she stood there embarrassed by her smart mouth and feeling more exposed by the moment. Instead, he touched a hand to her hair and gently tugged a sprig of baby’s breath free.
“As you’ve pointed out,” he said, studying the tiny white flowers that looked even smaller and more delicate in his big hand. “I’m a man of few words. I don’t waste them on statements I don’t mean.”
His words couldn’t have been more effective if he’d told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Something inside Mackenzie’s breast throbbed to an awakening fullness, a rich, consuming confidence.
He thought she was pretty. For herself, as well as for him, she wanted to think so, too.
“Are you a virgin, Mackenzie?”
She hadn’t thought he could shock her again. At least not this soon. Once past it, she considered his question logically. It was frank and it was necessary.
“I’m not a virgin. But my...relationships have been minimal. I...I’ve been careful. You don’t have to worry about—”
The gentle pressure of his thumb on her lips stopped more than her explanation. Her heart quit beating. Her breath evaporated.
“That wasn’t my concern.”
“No?” she whispered, the sound more sigh than substance.
“No.”
The touch of his hand, the scent and heat of his skin, filled her with a blistering awareness and an aching need.
“My concern was for your experience—or lack of it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Abel saw the moment when the full implication of his statements finally dawned on her. She knew she’d been found out. And those telling eyes of hers relayed that she was hovering somewhere between mortification and relief.
If he’d had a sense of humor, he would have smiled. If he’d had a heart, it would have melted.
She’d thought she’d passed herself off as a woman of experience that morning in his kitchen. She’d coiled onto his lap like a kitten begging to be petted—and she’d been scared down to her pretty bare toes the entire time.

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