Page 82 of Brutal Vows
Barely moving his lips, he murmurs, “Aye? As solid as you were last night during dinner when you were acting like a mute gorilla? Or as solid as you’ve been all morning, wearing a face like you’ve got a date with a firing squad?”
Through gritted teeth, I say, “Stop worrying about me.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s your blood pressure. You’re wired to the moon, and your head’s about to explode. I don’t want brains all over my tux.”
From Declan’s other side, Kieran leans in and whispers, “Ye do look a wee bit frightful, lad. Like maybe there’s ants in yer pants, nibblin’ on yer willy.”
“Thank you. Arsehole.”
The organ music sounds tinny and grating in my ears. The smell of flowers and women’s perfume is overpowering. I’m sweating in my tux, there’s a metallic taste on my tongue, and I could really use a stiff nip of scotch to settle my stomach.
I just have to get through the ceremony. Then I’ll be better. Then I can stop regretting the fuck out of this god-awful decision and get on with my bloody life.
Like every other man who gets married.
Except Declan. He doesn’t regret it for a second. He’d marry Sloane every day if he could, the mad bastard. She’s sitting in the front row on the groom’s side, beautiful and beaming like one of Raphael’s Madonnas, making all the other women around her look like dowdy pensioners.
Only Reyna could eclipse her.
Reyna with her scarlet lips and acid tongue and body that men and gods would gladly die for. Reyna with her tender heart and easy lies.
Reyna whoI’m not fucking thinking about.
Again.
Forcing the thought of her from my mind, I concentrate on the row of stained-glass windows lining one side of the sanctuary. It immediately makes me think of the stained-glass windows at Reyna’s house, so I change my focus to the restless crowd.
My gaze lands on an unfamiliar woman sitting on the aisle about half a dozen rows back. She’s wearing a navy blue dress with a pattern of pretty flowers that are the exact pale greenish-gray shade of Reyna’s mermaid eyes.
I’m so fucked.
When the music changes to the bride’s processional, I’m relieved at the distraction.
My relief lasts about two seconds, until Declan says, “Why are they playing this? It’s the wrong music. The matron of honor is supposed to come down before the bride.”
He’s right. That’s how we rehearsed it last night. Reyna should walk down the aisle before Lili and Gianni and take her place opposite the groom and groomsmen on the steps of the altar. Then “Here Comes the Bride” starts, which is everyone’s signal to stand. Then the bride comes down the aisle, arm in arm with her father.
But there’s no Reyna. And there’s no Gianni.
Instead, walking slowly out alone from the narthex, is Lili. Wearing a lovely white gown and holding a bouquet of white flowers. A long lace veil obscures her face.
My first thought is that something bad has happened to Reyna. I know bloody well she’d never disappoint Lili by not showing up for the wedding, so whatever’s happened, it’s major.
My blooming panic stalls when Kieran whispers in confusion, “Is it just me, or did the wee lass grow a whopping pair of melons overnight?”
I peer more closely at the slowly approaching figure.
He’s right.
Those aren’t Lili’s tits.
That’s not her nipped waist, either, or her generous hips.
Lili has a girl’s figure. The person walking down the aisle has the full, dangerous curves of a woman.
My heart makes one final, painful squeeze inside my chest, then drops dead.
Declan says, “Sweet Mother Mary. Looks like there’s been a change of plans.”
