by JoAnn Ross
When the musicians broke into the wedding march, the assembled guests all turned to view the brides. They were all beautiful, as brides are supposed to be on their wedding day. Cait’s flamboyant, fiery coloring, Lily’s deceptively fragile pale blondness, and Blythe’s sultry dark gypsy looks, provided attractive foils for one another.
Cait looked even more stunning than usual in a full-skirted silk gown with a sheer illusion back that rustled enticingly with each step. Her green eyes were clear, her stride long and self-assured. The only sign of nerves was the splash of bright color on her high cheekbones.
Following her, a beatific Lily walked in beauty up the white satin runner, her long, strapless white organza gown topped by a sheer, silk chiffon jacket. She was carrying a simple nosegay of sweet peas. The guests breathed a soft sigh, in unison, as she paused and pressed a brief kiss atop her baby’s blond head.
For her aborted wedding to Alan Sturgess, Blythe had chosen a simple, sophisticated dress that had caused Cait to complain at the time that a wedding gown should be more romantic.
Today’s dress definitely fit that criteria. The off-the-shoulder fantasy gown was a froth of white lace and seed pearls, fit for a fairy-tale princess.
One look at Gage’s uncharacteristically stunned expression assured Blythe she’d chosen well.
As she reached his side, Blythe smiled up at this man with whom she’d already shared so much. Together, they’d cleared the name of an innocent man. And solved a sixty-year-old murder. Like all detectives, Michael Connelly had kept a notebook of his investigation. That notebook, which had arrived by courier without any accompanying letter, provided Sloan with the ending for his screenplay. The accusation that Walter Stern had murdered his biggest star would, Blythe knew, hit Hollywood like a bombshell.
As for Alan, the police had written the physician’s seemingly aberrant behavior as yet another tragic case of a murderous lover scorned. Only Blythe and Gage knew the truth.
The words were simple. Complex. And timeless.
As she shared a look more eloquent than words with this man she loved, Blythe knew they’d spoken these vows before. But today, as she repeated them, her voice ringing out strong and sure, she felt as if she were saying them for the very first time.
To love. Honor. Cherish.
For better or worse. Richer or poorer.
Forsaking all others.
Till death do us part.
Without taking his eyes from hers, Gage slipped the woven gold band onto her finger. Her hand, far steadier than her heart, then placed a gleaming symbol of promise on his finger. Having exchanged rings, they now exchanged smiles.
As Gage bent his head, Blythe knew that the vows had it wrong. A love as strong as theirs could never be constrained by mere physical limitations like life and death. Having been cruelly denied the lifetime together they’d pledged to one another so many years ago, they’d miraculously been given a second chance.
Their lips touched, their first kiss as husband and wife.
Then, as the musicians played and her mother wept, and the rest of the guests enthusiastically applauded the trio of newlyweds, Gage and Blythe turned and walked, hand in hand, down the white satin runner toward their future.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8628-3
Three Grooms and a Wedding
Copyright ©1995 by JoAnn Ross
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