Yvonne Lindsay - Vengeful Vows

“She looks like a princess,” Ellie said, loudly this time so that everyone in the room turned their heads and a collective gasp of awe filtered through the air.

“Let’s make her our queen, shall we?” Galen said and, still holding Ellie’s hand, he walked toward his bride.

As they drew closer, he noticed the flickering pulse in her neck. So perhaps she wasn’t quite as serene as she projected. That was fine by him. In a way, he’d have felt some reserve about marrying someone who wasn’t just a little rattled at the prospect of meeting their future life partner for the first time at the altar. And while he’d seen his brother and his cousin make successful matches that way, he’d never for a moment considered it for himself. Truth be told, he’d never even considered marriage before Ellie.

The woman’s eyes flared slightly, her bluish-gray irises almost consumed by her pupils in the candlelight.

“My groom, I presume?” she said in a voice that was a tiny bit husky and a whole lot of nervous.

“Galen Horvath, at your service,” he said, taking her free hand and lifting it to his lips.

Her skin was warm and lightly scented. Something sweet, with a hint of vanilla and a slightly headier spice. A slight tremor of her hand made him release his hold.

Never one to be shy, his best girl piped up. “And I’m Ellie. Will you marry us?”

A smile tweaked the woman’s lips. “Both of you? Now, there’s a bargain,” she said as her smile widened and her eyes sparkled with obvious delight. “The answer is yes. I’m Peyton Earnshaw, and I would be delighted to marry you.”

Galen felt something shift deep inside as he watched her. Her smile, her manner, her scent. It all coalesced into something powerful inside him. Lust, he told himself. Pure physical attraction; that was all it was. And it was far, far more than he’d anticipated experiencing on meeting his bride. The tension that had gripped him all day began to ease. This was going to be okay. They were going to be okay, he corrected himself.

* * *

Peyton had done a lot of things in the pursuit of investigative journalism, but she’d never gotten married before. When she’d decided to do an exposé on Alice Horvath she’d been delighted to discover an old college acquaintance among Alice’s staff. And when she’d learned the matriarch’s own grandson was searching for a bride, she’d called in an old debt and secured Michelle’s assistance gaming the system to match Peyton’s profile with the grandson’s. The fact that the matchmaking results could be manipulated like that lent weight to Peyton’s argument that Alice Horvath’s company was a complete fraud in the first place.

Peyton swallowed her nerves as, flanked by Galen Horvath and Ellie, she walked down the aisle toward the celebrant, who waited with a benevolent smile. She’d been prepared to do anything to achieve her goal—even marry a stranger—and now here she was.

Acutely aware of the warm strength of Galen’s hand holding hers, she tried to calm the unaccustomed racing of her heart. He was just a man. Seriously, her groom could have been anyone—but he wasn’t. He was one of Alice Horvath’s many grandchildren. He could have been short, tall, thin, full figured, hirsute. He was tall, more handsome than any star she’d seen at the movies lately, and he exuded a charisma that she felt pulling on her in ways she’d never expected. And his touch was doing weird things to her insides. Things that she prided herself on not feeling. Things she’d inured herself to—by choice. She wasn’t some naive creature full of unrealistic expectations. Oh sure, she knew you could fall in love, but she also knew the pain of a stupid decision made in the heat of the moment, and she wasn’t going to make that kind of mistake ever again.

“Everything okay?”

A soft whisper of breath caressed her ear as Galen leaned close to her.

“Just peachy,” she said with a bright smile that she was far from feeling.

His eyes met hers and he stared at her a moment before his face broke into a smile that literally stole the breath from her lungs. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. She was going to have to be careful around this guy, she told herself as she composed her features and faced the celebrant.

The service was simple. She’d have liked to have said it was honest but she was here under false pretenses. It gave her a moment’s pause when she considered that what she planned to do would not only affect the man she was marrying, but also the little girl, who looked up at him with trust and adoration. Well, she just wouldn’t let anyone, herself included, become too attached; that was all there was to it. And when her in-depth article exposing Alice Horvath for the manipulative and cruel woman she truly was hit the newsstands, no one would be hurt but the woman who’d destroyed Peyton’s father and, in turn, her entire family. Even the baby she’d been forced to give away.

Peyton blinked back the sudden burn in her eyes. Show no weakness. That had been her mantra then and it remained her mantra now.

“Congratulations!” the celebrant announced with warmth and enthusiasm—as if this was a real wedding and as if they were planning a real future together. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Oh, no.

Peyton froze as Galen took both her hands in his and leaned toward her. A sense of inevitability seeped through to her bones as she instinctively closed the final gap between them and allowed his lips to brush hers. Except it was more than a brush—it was an enticement. The gentle press of his mouth against hers sent her pulse thudding out of control, and when she parted her lips—to protest, she would tell herself later—he took advantage and tasted her with a practiced sweep of his tongue. She should have pulled back, she should have ended it, but she didn’t. Instead, like some sappy lovestruck teenager, she leaned even closer and kissed him back as if this was a real marriage and they’d been anticipating this moment for months.

When he withdrew she felt oddly bereft, even shaken. She looked up at him and saw the same kind of expression reflected back at her and instantly knew keeping Galen Horvath—her husband —at arm’s length was going to prove a great deal more challenging than she’d hoped.

“Yay, we’re a family!” Ellie said excitedly as she wrapped her skinny little arms around them both and gave them a big squeeze. “Nothing bad can happen now.”

“Nothing ba—” Peyton started.

“I’ll explain more later. Right now we have some celebrating to do.”

And they did. They took photos with their guests, including a few of her friends from college she’d kept in touch with. The Horvaths had been suitably sympathetic when she’d explained that her mother had died when she was a child and her father was unable to make it for the wedding.

After they were done with the formal photos, they toasted and ate and danced and toasted some more. And with every step perfectly in tune with her new partner, Peyton kept a smile on her face and acted as if this was exactly what she’d wanted all her life.

When the lights dimmed in the reception room and the music slowed to a dreamy romantic number, Galen took her back into his arms and led her out onto the dance floor.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Peyton teased. “You haven’t been allowed to sit down yet.”

He flashed a brief grin at her before his expression grew more serious. “I wanted to let you know what was behind Ellie’s statement earlier.”

“Do tell,” she encouraged when Galen fell silent.

If she wasn’t mistaken, a shimmer of moisture appeared in his eyes. He tilted his head back slightly and blinked hard before meeting her gaze again. Then he drew a deep breath and his words came in a rush.