The Inconvenient Bride Series 1-3

by Sharon Ihle

  But there were drawbacks to accepting as well. Marrying the man would mean the end of her independence. She would have to play "wife" in every aspect imaginable, she supposed. Was ensuring her mother's acceptance worth the sacrifice she would have to make—the giving of herself, of her very life, to Dimitri? Weighed down with indecision, Shylo sighed.

  "You have doubts?" Dimitri asked. "Tell me what they are, and perhaps I can ease your fears."

  "Well..." She hedged, trying to find just the right way to express her concerns, then did what usually worked best for her. She came right out with it. "I was wondering exactly what's in it for me if I say yes."

  She was so very, very blunt. But he chuckled as he said, "For one thing, the respected Adonis name and the import business that goes with it." He considered telling her the financial difficulties the company was having but decided against it. He was trying to further his cause, not weaken it, and he doubted she'd be interested in a discussion about money in any case. Searching for added inducements, he recalled Shylo's reactions to his embrace on the train. He smiled deeply. "For another, I believe we are well suited to one another in at least one very important area."

  Before she could ask what he meant, Dimitri glanced around the hotel lobby to make sure no one could see them in their corner. The clerk at the cigar stand was reading a magazine, and other than that, the lobby was empty. Releasing the fingers he'd been caressing, he slid his hand along the side of her cheek, stroking the even softer skin there with the pad of his thumb. Then he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was gentle but brief, a lure, a promise of things to come. When Dimitri pulled away from her mouth and his gaze lingered there, Shylo's lips followed his automatically, hungry for more.

  Pleased by her reaction, not to mention his sudden and very intense response to the slick, satiny feel of her mouth beneath his own, Dimitri's voice plummeted to a low, dark whisper as he said, "We make a very good match, I would say. What do you say?"

  Her gaze riveted to his lips, to the deep, entrancing cleft of the upper one, she echoed, "A good match."

  "Then you have no further concerns about a marriage to me?"

  If she did, Shylo couldn't think of what they might be. She couldn't think at all. "I..." She shrugged.

  Dimitri was all set to pronounce them man and wife right there on the spot, but one other consideration crossed his mind. In all fairness he really had to give her some idea of the kind of life she would be living. Again he took her hand.

  "Before we strike an agreement, I think I should make it clear to you that I have no intention of running the family business once we return to Greece." If the idea of moving to another country shocked her, she gave no indication, so he went on. "My true calling is archaeology, and I plan to spend most of my time at the University of Athena. I hope that will not be a problem for you."

  This snapped her out of her fugue. "University? Are you going to college?"

  "Yes," he said with a laugh. "I have been going to school for some time now—most of my life, in fact. I expect to get my Ph.D. within six months, and after that, I plan to teach at the university."

  "When you say teach, you mean to say that you're gonna be a college professor?"

  "Yes. Through the doctorate program, I already teach a small group of students." Or at least that's what he should have been doing instead of crossing this strange country of America.

  Shylo was agog. Never in all her life had she known anyone smart enough to be a college professor, much less dreamed that a person of such great intelligence would ask her to be his wife. Her mind spinning with possibilities, she dared to put words to her second fondest dream.

  "If I was to marry you, do you think you could teach me like you do your students?"

  "You mean see that you get a college education?"

  She nodded enthusiastically, the hunger for knowledge shining bright in her eyes. Viewing Shylo this way, Dimitri found yet another reason to admire her, to think that perhaps, on a more personal level, this match wouldn't be such an ordeal after all. "But of course I will. If an education is what you want, I can promise right now that I'll do everything I can to see that you get the best one available."

  Shylo wouldn't have been surprised if she'd just spiraled right off the sofa and gone twirling across the floor like a whirligig gone wild. This was too good to be true. A marriage to a prestigious and handsome man who also intended to get her the education she craved—all without so much as blinking an eye?

  Perhaps, Shylo thought, tossing a little cold water on her joy, it was too good to be true. If she did agree to become Dimitri's wife, she really ought to let him know that she had no ties to the president. It wouldn't be fair to him otherwise. But if she did confess the truth, would his offer still hold? He had admitted that her connection to the White House was a factor in his decision to propose.

  If he did withdraw the offer to marry her, she had to assume that he would also withdraw his services as escort, leaving her and Cassie penniless in Winslow, Arizona. Even if she and her sister boarded the train tomorrow and went on to San Diego alone, they had no way of letting a room, feeding themselves, or, most important of all, impressing their mother, a woman to whom impressions were everything.

  Almost certain now of what she had to do, Shylo looked into Dimitri's eyes again. He wanted her. It could be that simple. So where was the harm in not telling him who she really was—at least until she established herself on firm ground with her mother? It would serve him right after all the rotten things he'd said to her yesterday.

  He would be angry when he found out that she'd lied, of course, but he'd get over it. Besides, other than the social prestige she assumed it would bring, just how much could being related to the president of the United States matter to Dimitri, anyway? This was a business arrangement, like he said. It wasn't as if she'd be breaking his heart when he found she'd been less than truthful.

  Her confidence restored, Shylo offered her hand. "I think we have ourselves a deal."

  "Splendid." With a dimpled smile on his face, Dimitri accepted her handshake. Then he broached a subject so sensitive that he hadn't dared mention it until he'd struck a bargain with her. "There is one more thing we need to talk about. As you know, Ari and I are pretty much without funds right now, and will be until we reach San Diego, where I directed the bank to wire my money. I noticed that the bandits allowed Miss McBride to keep her valise. I don't suppose they were kind enough to leave your money in her care as well? We could certainly use the train fare you owe us."

  It was all she could do to keep from groaning out loud. Would he never forget about that damn money? No wonder he was so blasted wealthy. If there was one thing she'd learned from Mr. Anderson during her years on the farm, it was that rich folks got that way by hanging on to their money so tight, they practically squeezed the feathers right off their Indian-head pennies. This fiancé of hers could probably stuff a mattress with the feathers he'd squeezed from his coins—a bad habit she would have to work on changing the minute they were wed.

  Doing her best to look dejected, not vexed, Shylo said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid they took every cent."

  "In that case, I suppose we can wait until after the wedding to put our finances in order." He stood up from the couch, extended his hand, and pulled Shylo to her feet. "In the meantime, if we're going to accomplish everything we must and still make that train to San Diego tomorrow, we don't have a moment to waste."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand. Are we going somewhere?"

  "Yes, we are." Laughing softly, Dimitri chucked her under the chin. "To a wedding, I believe. Before I went to collect you from your room, I took the liberty of asking the marshal to help me find a preacher. I engaged one who is prepared to marry us within the hour. Will that be enough time for you to make your preparations?"

  Chapter 10

  "Hold still a minute. I'm almost finished," said Cassie to her fidgety sister as she snipped off the thread holding the new la
ce polonaise to the yellow lawn gown. Once Cassie got over her shock at hearing Shylo's news, she'd dashed off to the mercantile with the last of their money and bought enough lace to turn the simple day dress into something resembling a wedding costume. After tying the tails of the flimsy material at the back of the gown, then draping them over Shylo's bustles as a makeshift "train," she stood back to admire her handiwork.

  "You look"—Cassie burst into tears—"b-beautiful."

  Trying to ignore this latest round of sobs—her sister had been alternating between bouts of weeping and hysterical joy since hearing about the upcoming wedding—Shylo reached for the sunbonnet Dimitri had purchased for her. Cassie had covered the crown of the hat with a wide strip of lace, leaving the ends extra long to use as ties. She fit the bonnet over her hastily arranged coiffure, tied the lace ends into a large bow beneath her chin, and then stepped in front of the full-length mirror.

  "Good Lord," she said over her sister's wails. "I look like Little Bo-Peep. All I need is a staff."

  "Don't say that." Cassie blew her nose. "You really are beautiful, Shylo, a lovely bride. I—I'm so jealous."

  Although they'd already used up the hour Dimitri had given them, Shylo turned to her sister and gave her a hug. "You don't have anything to be jealous of, sis. Just keep looking for that prince of yours to come riding up on his big white horse. He's bound to show up one of these days."

  She'd meant to calm Cassie enough to get her down the stairs, not stir her up even more, but for some reason her words brought about a regular downpour. Cassie wept even harder than before, soaking the bodice of Shylo's thin dress, and there wasn't a thing to be done about it until she'd cried herself dry.

  At last Cassie backed away and blew her nose again. "S-sorry," she said through a hiccup. "I guess I'm too danged sentimental to be anyone's maid of honor. Maybe you ought to just go on without me so's I won't ruin your wedding."

  "Don't be ridiculous. If you won't come with me, then I'm not getting married at all."

  "I don't know why you'd say that. Look at me. My eyes are all swollen and red, I got dirt ground into the back of your pretty blue dress, and I can't even think about you getting married without blubbering all over the place. Why would you want a big ole baby like me at the ceremony?"

  "That's easy enough. I love you." She pinched Cassie's cheek, then went over to the bed and picked up the huge black bonnet. "Now no more talk about staying behind. If we don't hurry and get over there, the groom might change his mind." She reached up to place the hat on her sister's head, but Cassie ducked out of the way.

  "Please don't ask me to wear that bonnet. I can hardly breathe with my head stuffed into it, and besides that, it's too damn ugly to wear at a wedding." She set her chin and pushed out her bottom lip. "I've pretty much decided that I ain't gonna wear it anywhere else again, neither."

  This surprised Shylo, for Cassie's locks, while no longer purple, were still far from their natural color. "But we don't have anything else big enough to cover your head. You have to wear it if you expect to keep your hair hidden."

  "I don't expect to do that again, neither." A secretive smile drifted across her face. "Some folks actually like pink hair. I figure those that don't can just keep their eyes off of me."

  Because it had taken nearly a full day to convince Cassie to go outside at all when her hair had first turned out purple, even wearing the bonnet, Shylo could hardly try to talk her out of her new attitude. In fact, she took it as a sign that her baby sister might even be growing up.

  "Damn right," she said. "And just for the record, I think you're the prettiest maid of honor a bride ever had, swollen eyes, stained dress, pink hair, and all. Now let's go get me a husband. We were supposed to be there twenty minutes ago."

  As they crossed the railroad tracks and headed toward the marshal's office, Shylo realized that so far during their stay in Winslow, she had yet to see a church. Was that why Dimitri had asked her to meet him at the marshal's office? she wondered, continuing on her way. Surely if there was no church in Winslow, he could have found a better place for their wedding than a jailhouse.

  When she and Cassie reached the marshal's little log cabin, Shylo was prepared to insist that her fiancé find a more suitable spot for the ceremony, but Dimitri lit into her the minute she crossed the threshold, robbing her of the chance.

  "You're late. Have you no concept of time, woman? I am waiting, and the preacher, too."

  Laughter from a booming voice in the corner plugged Dimitri's tirade. "Now don't go getting yourselves frothed up over nothing. It's not like y'all are keeping me from anything else."

  Shylo turned toward the big y'alling Texan and saw that he was stretched out between two chairs, his backside planted firmly on one, his boots propped on the other. As she stared at him, her mouth agape, he kicked the chair out from under his feet, stood up, and came toward her. He was tall, at least as tall as Dimitri, but probably eighty pounds lighter, his black frock coat hanging down from his body as if from a wire hanger, his flat-brimmed hat riding low on his long forehead.

  "My dear lady," he said, bowing slightly as he approached her, "would I be correct in assuming that y'all are the bride-to-be?"

  "Yes, she is," said Dimitri, his impatience still ruling his tongue. "Shylo, this is the waiting Reverend Bill Tucker, our preacher. He is the one who travels on something of a circuit—"

  "I know what a circuit preacher is." Vexed over the way he'd greeted her at the door, Shylo cut Dimitri off, then ignored him in favor of the preacher. "Nice to meet you, Reverend. This"—she turned toward Cassie—"is my maid of honor, Cassandra McBride."

  Cassie sniffed back a tear. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Reverend Tucker."

  "'Reverend Bill' is what most folks call me, little lady." With an incredulous gaze pinned to her head, he gave her a broad smile. "My, my—that's a very... interesting shade a hair y'all got there. Were you brought into the world that way, little lady, or were you struck down by lightning?"

  Dimitri, who'd barely noticed that Cassie had walked in the door along with Shylo, let out an audible groan as he took a good look at her. Why had she'd chosen today of all days to leave her hat behind, exposing hair that was no longer purple, but pink? Pink!

  Shylo replied stiffly, "Cassie had a little... accident with some dye, is all. Her hair will be back to its normal blond color in no time."

  "Accident," the preacher echoed. "Yes, I would certainly say so." He looked to Dimitri. "If we're all here now, I think we'd best get started."

  "Yes, of course." He glanced at the lawman, who was keeping a lazy eye on the proceedings from his desk. "Deputy Moss? Would you mind collecting the best man for us?"

  He yawned, then said, "I expect not."

  Moss rose from his desk, lifted the keys from their peg, then unlocked the door to the back room and disappeared inside it. A moment later, and much to Shylo's surprise, out stepped a battered-looking Ari.

  His suit was rumpled, his nose was swollen, and he sported two black eyes. She couldn't help but notice that he also wore a shiny pair of handcuffs and that the barrel of Deputy Moss's .45 was pressed firmly against the center of his back.

  Stunned by the sight, Shylo whispered to Dimitri, "My God. What happened to him, and why is he still under arrest?"

  Unable to look her in the eye, he shrugged and said, "He had a little trouble with some gamblers. It is nothing to worry about now. We'll work on getting him released after the wedding."

  But Shylo wasn't so easily put off. How could he call it "nothing"? She glanced back to Ari and the marshal. The lawman hadn't relaxed the position of his pistol an inch and was looking as if he'd just as soon pull the trigger and blow a hole through Ari as not. Why hadn't Dimitri thought this development important enough to mention to her before now? Or hadn't he known when he proposed? In either case, should she still go through with the wedding as planned?

  Unaware the bride was having second thoughts, Reverend Bill took Shylo by t
he shoulders. "Now then. Since I b'lieve we're ready to begin, I'd like you to stand here." He moved her a few feet to his right, then directed Dimitri to stand beside her on the left. "Let's have the maid of honor come right up alongside the bride, if y'all please, and Marshal, you fetch the best man up next to the groom's elbow."

  When he was satisfied the wedding party was in proper alignment, Reverend Bill began the ceremony. "Dearly b'loved. We-all gathered here today to bring these two fine folks together in holy matrimony."

  Cassie began to sob, drowning out the considerable resonance of the preacher's voice.

  Reverend Bill leaned in toward Shylo and said, "What's the matter with her?"

  "She's, ah... happy for me."

  "I see." He stepped back, frowning at the still sobbing Cassie, but went on with the ceremony. "If y'all don't mind my saying so, it seems fitting that I make mention of the fact that this wedding has all the earmarks of becoming one of the most... unusual of my long career. Not only is this one decidedly more colorful," he said, directing a meaningful gaze Cassie's way, "but while I have officiated at a fair share of weddings where the bridegroom and... ah, a shotgun were featured, I do b'lieve this is the first ceremony I've performed where the best man was being held at gunpoint."

  Ari, whose nose had started to bleed, held a handkerchief to it as he looked at Shylo and said, "Sorry for the trouble."

  She shrugged but gave Dimitri a narrow, sidelong glance. He shifted his feet restlessly and continually folded and unfolded his arms, but he did not hazard a look in her direction or say one word in his uncle's defense. She was missing something, she decided, some little detail or secret between the Greeks that was purposefully being kept from her. How could she go through with the wedding while suspicions such as these were running through her mind?