The aunts thought that was ridiculous. Pastels were for babies, not grown women.
So here she was in the most expensive dress she’d ever owned—bottle—green lace so fine it seemed to float on the breeze that soughed through the cracks in the old chapel windows. The neck was high, the sleeves were long, the skirt was down to the ground.
She had made only one request—that Jamey not marry her with his glove on, so when he put the ring on her finger, it was his scars that touched her.
And suddenly she was a married woman.
The party afterward spilled into all the first-floor rooms of the McLachlan house. She danced everything from waltzes to something called the Gay Gordon. Even Hamish’s boys were excellent dancers. Everyone seemed to be having a marvelous time, including Pat.
The music was a mix of Rom and Scottish that seemed to work, for no one showed signs of slowing down, much less going home.
Finally Jamey caught Vic’s hand on her way back downstairs from a trip to the bathroom. “They’ll be at it until morning and beyond,” he whispered.
“I know. We can’t just leave them, can we?”
“Damn right we can.”
“They’ll come bang on the bedroom door.”
“Ah. And we won’t be there, will we?”
“Where will we be?”
“Dress warm and meet me by the stable door. Five minutes.”
He waited astride his motorcycle with one helmet on his head and another in his hand. “I don’t take so many chances now that I’m a married man,” he said. “Climb on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Not much later he opened the gate of the yearling pasture, drove through and shut it behind him.
“The caravan! We’ll freeze.”
“No, we won’t. Tony’s got it all set up for us. See the smoke coming out of the chimney? I warned him if he told anybody, I’d give his wife an earful about some of our pub crawls.”
He held the door open for her.
“Oh, Jamey,” she breathed. The small room was full of yellow roses. Beside the bed sat a bottle of wine in an ice bucket, and the small table was set with a bowl of caviar, toast points and assorted other goodies. “Won’t people worry when they can’t find us?”
“They’ll never notice we’re gone.” He lay back on the bed and opened his arms to her. She climbed into them.
“I never knew until I met you what love was,” he murmured.
“We’re a pretty mismatched pair.” She bit his earlobe gently.
He kissed her.
“Ah, love, that runs in the family.”
ISBN : 978-1-4592-5356-8
MR. MIRACLE
Copyright © 1999 by Carolyn McSparren.
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Mr. Miracle (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 26