A Prior Engagement

by Karina Bliss

  “Dammit,” she said brokenly.

  “Jules.”

  “No, I can wing it.” She started to pace, three steps in each direction, palms pressed against her skirt.

  “I’ll listen,” he said, “but let’s get out of the wind.”

  He drew her to the sheltered side of the church to an ornate bench overlooking an ancient-looking graveyard. As he sat, she resumed her pacing on the gravel path. “You said you’re afraid you’ll hurt me, but this separation hurts me. And you won’t anyway—hurt me—and you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

  The words tumbled out, not in anything like the order she’d rehearsed. Raw. Disjointed. Real. The gravel crunched like sugar underfoot.

  “You expected me to marry you on faith after six weeks of dating and now it’s your turn to trust me. Keep listening to my voice telling you that giving up isn’t an option—no, don’t answer yet, I haven’t finished.”

  Unconsciously she steadied herself against an old headstone. His green eyes were starting to distract her.

  “I got a tattoo,” she blurted, “on my back. Because I wanted to show you how serious I am about this. From the day I met you you’ve been under my skin, so I figured I’d make it official.” It still felt like a bruise on the inside of her left shoulder blade when her cotton bodice tightened across it.

  His eyes seemed to grow warmer and warmer. She found herself drawing nearer. “The tattoo says, Semper et pepetuum, which is Latin for ‘always and forever.’” She stood in front of him. “So in conclusion...”

  Her voice trailed off as he stood. She lifted her gaze until she was looking up into his eyes, their bodies all but touching.

  “In conclusion,” she repeated, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Come home.”

  “Be sure,” he said. “While my therapist seems to think what happened with Mark will prove the exception rather than the rule, I can be so much closer to normal in a few more months. I have a job prospect with that kids’ camp you got me onto and—”

  “Stop making this complicated,” she interrupted, quoting words he’d spoken so many, many months ago. “Do you believe in us or not?”

  He cupped her face in his roughened hands. “I believe,” he said, then scooped her up and spun her around. And then they were kissing to the point where they either had to stop or get naked in a church graveyard.

  Five minutes later, Jules was sitting in Lee’s lap, her head on his shoulder, when Tilly poked her nose around the building. “Uncle Ross says you have to come back now.” She frowned as she took in Jules’s position.

  “Two more minutes,” Lee promised, stopping Jules from rising by tightening his hold. “I don’t suppose you brought the ring with you,” he said, and Jules laughed.

  “No more proposals,” she said. “Except mine.” She buried her face in his neck. “Marry me,” she whispered. “As soon as we can arrange it.”

  “You spontaneous romantic types never think things through.” His lips curved into a smile against her neck. “Not without a prenup... In fact...I’ve already started working on it.”

  Jules sat up. “You’re kidding.”

  Shifting her off his lap, Lee pulled an envelope out of his jacket and gave it to her. “Why I was late to rehearsal. I went to see a lawyer.”

  She opened it and started scanning the document.

  “That money you owe me,” he said. “I thought of a compromise. Sign over an equivalent share in your house. Once I’m earning again I’ll keep investing until I hit forty-eight percent.”

  “That’s brilliant.” Jules stared at him. “But don’t you mean fifty percent?”

  “No,” he said seriously, “because it needs to stay your house.”

  And she fell in love with him all over again.

  “Are you two trying to drive me crazy?” Ross, irate, stormed around the corner. “Did I not send my best lieutenant to fetch you ten minutes ago?”

  He scanned their faces and his scowl deepened. “Great that you’re happy, but can we make this about me?”

  Laughing, Jules stood and pulled Lee to his feet. Fingers intertwined, they followed the groom into the church.

  “I didn’t see any mention in this document of your conditions,” Jules said as they entered the vestibule.

  “Other than sighting that tattoo, I don’t have any.” He caught her around the waist, spun her into his arms and kissed her again, to a burst of applause from their friends. “All I ever wanted was you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE BRIDE WORE BLACK.

  Her groom took no offense. Ice’s eyes gleamed when he saw his flamboyant love in the strapless mermaid gown, black Chantilly lace over champagne satin. From her position up front with the other bridesmaids Jules heard him murmur, “Worth it.”

  Dark hair loose around her shoulders in contrast to her bridesmaids’ upswept styles, Vivien Jansen was fearless and beautiful. The perfect mate for Ice.

  Jules caught the middle groomsman’s eye and read Lee’s expression perfectly. Get a dress like that for our wedding. She looked forward to telling him it was another Vera Wang—Viv having been too busy to design her own. “It was either the dress or some honeymoon lingerie,” she’d confided at the hairdresser’s. “Unsurprisingly, the lingerie got Ross’s vote.”

  Lee’s gaze brushed like a kiss over the champagne-satin sheath hugging Jules, the expanse of thigh and stiletto heels. She shivered, her fingers tightening on the bouquet of blue hydrangeas, white roses and lilacs.

  Like the groom, he wore a silver-gray tuxedo and a white dress shirt under a lavender vest and tie. The effect could have been effeminate; that it wasn’t testified to Viv’s flair and men comfortable enough in their masculinity not to wear it self-consciously. The result was magnificent; every woman got a little fluttery around them.

  Jules pressed her stomach as her own butterflies took flight. Lee’s weight gain over the past month had filled in the hollows in his face and fleshed out his frame. His charisma was fast regaining its former wattage and, today, the glow of newfound happiness made him as handsome as his buddies.

  I did that for him, she thought, giddy as a newlywed herself after last night. They’d left the wedding rehearsal and gone back to her hotel room, reaffirming their own vows by making love. This morning she’d been woken by Lee’s tuneless shower rendition of Johnny Farnham’s “When the War is Over.”

  Viv’s father kissed his daughter and retired. Radiant, she took Ross’s arm.

  “Dearly beloved,” intoned the priest, “we are gathered here...”

  Ice was dripping happiness all over the place and Jules didn’t dare to stand too close in case together they created a small lake.

  “...if anyone present knows of any reason why the couple should not be married speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  “I’m sorry but...” From the second pew, Jo rose, her face white.

  Jules snapped out of her reverie. Everyone gaped at Jo.

  Slapping both hands over her mouth, Jo stumbled into the aisle and ran for the exit.

  Dan strode after his wife, realized he was the best man and stopped, glancing over his shoulder at the bridal couple.

  Ross was being supported by his laughing bride. “Talk to your wife about her timing,” he said weakly.

  Viv waved her brother away. “We’ll wait...chat amongst yourselves for ten minutes,” she told the congregation cheerfully and started fa
nning her groom.

  “Remind me to apologize to Ross later,” Jules murmured to Claire. “I thought that was a setup.”

  Viv heard her. “Oh, it was,” she said. “But Jo’s afternoon sickness gave us a real excuse.”

  “Wait, you were in on this, too?”

  Everyone within earshot laughed, including the priest and the bride’s parents and her twin, who was disconcerting enough just by being identical to the bride. “I needed that,” Ross said, chuckling. “Jules, this woman taught me everything I know about returning things to their rightful places. Why do you think she’s called Hurricane?”

  That made no sense but apparently the bride understood because she said, “God, I adore you,” and kissed him.

  “Slightly out of sequence,” said the priest, “but your groomsmen said you need the practice.” He’d clearly been a family friend a long time.

  Five minutes later, Jo returned on the arm of her husband, her pallor replaced by a blush of mortification. “I’m so sorry,” she began again, and was drawn into a bear hug by the groom.

  “Let’s put it this way,” he said fondly, “now neither of us gets to tell cute anecdotes about this wedding.”

  “Deal,” Jo agreed with a sigh and returned to her pew.

  The bride pricked up her ears. “What’s this?”

  Ross turned her toward the altar. “Vows,” he said firmly. “Now, Father, if you please.”

  The congregation hushed as the clergyman found his place. “I, Ross Coltrane,” he began.

  “I, Ross Coltrane.”

  “Take you, Vivien Jansen...”

  “Take you, Vivien Jansen.”

  As she listened to the sincerity in Ross’s voice, Jules felt strangely moved. That was crazy because she was a cynic. This stuff didn’t affect her.

  “Promise to be true to you in good times and in bad...”

  Instinctively her gaze sought Lee’s. She found him already watching her.

  “In good times and in bad...” Lee mouthed the words silently. “I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

  Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked rapidly.

  “I, Vivien Jansen, take thee, Ross Coltrane.”

  Jules looked at her feet, in satin shoes that matched her dress. She frowned fiercely. The glossy tip of one shoe darkened where a tear had fallen.

  Honestly, she never cried at weddings. This was ridiculous. Her nose started to run. With no handkerchief, she tried to sniff quietly, conscious that she stood exposed in front of the congregation. Maybe it was an allergy to the bouquet?

  “Vivien, take this ring,” said Ross, “as a sign of my love and fidelity.”

  A sob escaped Jules and she tried to turn it into a cough, darting a glance at the bride and groom to see if they’d noticed.

  Fortunately they were lost in each other. She did see a row of grinning groomsmen, which should have been enough to...

  “Ross, take this ring,” Viv began.

  Another sob escaped her. It was just so damn beautiful.

  Dimly she was aware of Claire and Lee swapping places. A neatly folded lavender handkerchief was pressed into her palm. She took it gratefully, fumbling with her free hand for Lee’s. His fingers intertwined with hers, strong, solid and warm.

  The priest said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  And Jules started blubbering in earnest.

  * * *

  BOTH SHE AND Jo came in for a lot of ribbing later, after the wine had flowed freely. With the cake cut, the speeches made and the first dance over, a band was rocking the silk-lined marquee that took up most of the paddock in front of the farmhouse. The wedding party had congregated outside for a brief respite from the noise and dancing. Overhead the stars were beginning to appear as the sky faded from pale blue to a velvety deep violet.

  “Actually,” Viv confided from her position sitting on her new husband’s knee, “I would have been perfectly happy getting married in a registry office, but a wedding forces Mum and Dad together. I have high hopes of a reconciliation.”

  Everyone’s attention swung to Ross. Viv noticed. “What?”

  “We didn’t need to do the big wedding?” Ice said hoarsely. “I went through all this torture for nothing?”

  “No,” his bride returned serenely. “You went through it for me.... Let me tell you about my honeymoon lingerie.”

  Ross brightened. “Is it—”

  “No sexy talk with my sister,” Dan cut in. “I don’t care if you’re married.”

  Lifting Viv off his lap, Ross stood, a little unsteadily. “We need a toast since we’re all together, and I hid a bottle of vintage champagne in the kitchen. “Swannie—” he pulled Jo out of her chair “—I need someone sober to carry a tray of glasses.”

  “Lead on, Ice-cream.” Bickering fondly over nicknames, the two of them headed toward the house.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Jules said quietly to Nate, Claire and Dan while Lee traded banter with the bride. “Why he wasn’t killed by his captors.” This was probably her best opportunity to ask them.

  “Alive he had value as a negotiating tool if they needed it,” Nate said. “They still had seven fingers.”

  Jules and Claire shuddered.

  “And many of his captors would have been highly superstitious,” Dan added. “Murdering a guy who’s done the honorable thing who’d been given sanctuary is bad karma in any culture.”

  Lee tuned in and added, “I suspect Ajmal made his own threats.”

  Jules nestled against him. “What happened to Ajmal? Do you know?”

  Nate answered. “He and his immediate family are no longer at the village. That’s all the SAS were able to discover.”

  “I think he supplied the allies with my location,” Lee said. “My fear is that he was killed for it.”

  Jules tightened her grip around Lee’s waist. “What would prompt him to tip them off after all those months?”

  “His militant son was killed two weeks before Lee’s release,” Dan answered. “Perhaps that freed him to save his foster son.”

  Jules frowned. “If he’s as smart as Lee says,” she wondered aloud, “wouldn’t it make sense to relocate before making your tip-off?”

  Everyone stared at her. Then a slow smile curved Lee’s mouth.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It would.”

  “Why the hell didn’t we think of that?” Nate said.

  “You forget,” Jules said modestly, “I’m trained to look for loopholes.”

  A champagne cork smacked the tent wall behind them. Everyone ducked.

  “Oops.” Grinning, Ross carried a foaming bottle of Krug Grand Cuvée. Ignoring the flurry of good-natured curses from the guys, he bent to kiss his bride. “I missed you,” he said.

  Jules sighed.

  “Closet romantic,” Lee whispered in her ear and she feigned a scowl.

  “Your fault!”

  Jo passed out champagne flutes then swiped the bottle from a distracted Ross and filled them while there was still liquid in it. “What’s the toast, Ice-cream?”

  “There are a few.” Ross gestured everyone to their feet and toasted his bride. Then his expression sobered, “We all know who comes next.” He nodded to Nate, who raised his glass.

  “To Steve,” Nate said, looping his free arm around Claire.

  “May you rest in peace, my darling.” With a dignity that brought a lump to Jules’s throat, Claire toas
ted her late husband.

  Solemnly everyone clinked glasses and drank.

  Ross raised his glass again. “And to new beginnings,” he said to Claire and Nate.

  “To new beginnings.” Lee was the first to toast and it made Jules glad to see it.

  “Speaking of new beginnings,” Jo said carefully to Dan. “I just saw your parents making out on the love seat on our porch.”

  Viv whooped, but Dan groaned. “Isn’t it enough that my sister’s making out with my buddy?” He plucked the glass of orange juice from his laughing wife’s fingers. “If I can’t beat ’em.”

  Passing Jo’s flute to Ross, he swept his pregnant wife into a passionate embrace that made everyone turn away laughing.

  “Are they done yet?” Ice uncovered his eyes. “C’mon, Shep, it’s your turn for a toast.”

  “That’s easy.” One hand fanned over his wife’s belly, Dan held up his glass. “To a new life,” he said.

  Jules smiled at Lee. “We’ll drink to that...and on behalf of the women, here’s to a few good men.”

  Four glasses rang together. “To good men.”

  “And, in particular—” Jules raised her flute “—to a guy so selfless that he released an old man from his pledge and gave himself over to the Taliban, rather than continue to risk the lives of women and children. And so unassuming he didn’t tell his friends about it.”

  Slowly everyone turned to stare at Lee.

  “Is this true?” the bridegroom demanded.

  But Lee was staring at her. “Who told you...my C.O.?”

  “I worked it out.” She clinked her flute against his. “Remember? We’re soul mates.”

  His grin was like the sun coming out.

  “To soul mates,” he said.

  * * * * *

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