Rebecca York - Bridal Jeopardy

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You were attacked.”

“How do you know?”

He hesitated for just a second before saying, “I was calling to say hello, and Claire answered the phone. She sounded upset, so I asked her some questions. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“She says two men came into the shop and threatened you. Then a stranger came to your rescue.”

“Yes.”

“I assume you got his name.”

“He’s Craig Brady,” she said, using the false name that he’d given to Claire.

“And you never met him before?”

She wondered what the right answer was, then decided and said, “I didn’t meet him, but he was at that charity reception the other night.”

“The guy who was watching you?”

She winced. “I guess. I didn’t really pay much attention,” she lied.

John kept his gaze on her, and she worked to keep her expression neutral. She knew he’d noticed Craig at the plantation house. And done what? Maybe had his guys make a move on him?

“So what about the men who attacked you?” John asked. “Had you ever seen them before?”

“No.”

John continued his interrogation. “And what did they want?”

“I never found out.”

His eyes narrowed. “But I suspect you think it has something to do with your father.”

Her mouth had gone dry, but she managed to answer, “Yes.”

“He’s gambling again?”

“I...don’t know for sure.”

“You’d better tell him to behave himself. I’m not a bottomless well of money.”

“I understand.”

“I hate it that he’s responsible for bad stuff happening to you,” he said, the tone of his voice changing. She knew that change. He was feeling tender toward her, and amorous.

He reached out and took her in his arms, cradling her against himself, and she fought to keep the stiffness out of her body. She didn’t want him to hold her, but she could hardly object to her fiancé comforting her after a frightening experience.

He crooked one hand under her chin and tipped her face up as he lowered his mouth. His lips touched down on hers, settled, then began to move with the skill of a man who had made love to many women.

Stephanie tried to relax and kiss him back, when all she wanted to do was duck out of his arms and flee the room.

He was an experienced lover, and she’d convinced herself that marrying him wouldn’t be a personal disaster for her, yet, as he kissed her, she couldn’t stop herself from comparing her feelings now to the sensations and emotions that had threatened to swamp her when Craig had held her in his arms.

Then she’d been aroused. Hot and pliable and ready for sex. Now she was only tolerating the attentions of the man whose bed she would share in a few months.

She hoped he didn’t realize what she was really feeling. And when he drew back, she felt relief and shame warring inside her. If she were honest, she would tell John Reynard that she couldn’t marry him, but she knew that was as impossible as her flying off to Oz in a hot-air balloon.

At least he hadn’t forced her to make love with him. She’d told him that she couldn’t do that until they were married, and he’d grumbled about the edict. But he’d respected her wishes. She wondered if he thought she was a virgin. Probably not. Probably he’d investigated her background enough to know that she’d been intimate with a few men, but the relationships had never gone very far. Maybe he was thinking that he’d wait until marriage so she didn’t have a chance to walk away when she was disappointed.

He looked down at her. “I guess you’re still upset by what happened.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I should let you rest.” The edge in his voice made her grasp his arm. “I’m sorry. I just can’t...” She let her voice trail off rather than try to explain any further.

“I’m going to have some of my men protect you,” he said.

Her gaze shot to his face. “What do you mean?”

“They’ll be watching over you.”

“You mean they’re coming here?”

“They won’t bother you, but they’ll be around.”

“Yes, thank you,” she managed to say, when she really wanted to scream at him to leave her alone.

He left the house then, and she collapsed into a chair, glad to be alone. Yet at the same time she was terrified by what had just happened. She’d never wanted to marry this man. Now she understood just how bad a decision it would be.

Would be? Was she still thinking that she had a choice?

* * *

FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS, Craig had been following Stephanie around. Now it was more important than ever for him to keep up the surveillance—not just for himself but for her. But as he rounded the corner at the end of her block, he saw John Reynard leaving her house.

He stopped short, ducking back around the corner, fighting a spurt of jealousy that stabbed through him. That bastard had access to Stephanie, and Craig did not. She was engaged to the man, but she was never going to marry him. Craig would make sure of that. The depth of his emotions shocked him. He hadn’t felt this strongly about anything since Sam’s death. Then he’d been filled with despair. But also determination, he acknowledged.

The determination was just as strong now, along with an excitement that coursed through his veins and made his heart pound.

He had to pry Stephanie away from John Reynard, but he couldn’t exactly pull out a gun and shoot the man. He had to get something on him—something that would stop him in his tracks. Evidence from Sam’s murder? He’d been prepared to play a long game getting that kind of information. But now the time frame had changed. It would be much better if it was something more recent that they could take to the cops.

They? Was he already thinking Stephanie was on his side?

He pulled himself up short. Take it a step at a time, he warned himself. You just met her. You can’t change her world in a couple of hours.

Still, he did feel a small measure of victory. Reynard had come running over to Stephanie’s house after the incident. Probably he’d thought he could comfort her—like in the bedroom. But now he was on his way out the front door. Hopefully because Stephanie hadn’t wanted him there.

How could she, after the connection she and Craig had made in the shop?

John left the house, but before he drove away, he glanced toward two men sitting in a car across the street from her house.

The men who had attacked her in the shop?

What would it mean that Reynard knew they were here?

Craig waited with his heart pounding until Reynard had finished his conversation with Stephanie and driven away. He ached to stride down the block and confront the watchers, but caution made him walk back in the other direction, then take the alley in back of the houses across the street from Stephanie’s. They were typical French Quarter dwellings, many of them built butting up against one another or with enclosed courtyards, but there were passageways between some, and he took one that would bring him almost up to the car where the men were sitting.

He stayed in the shadows, noting that they were both turned toward Stephanie’s house. He recognized them. They weren’t the thugs who had come into her shop. They were the men who had followed him around at the charity reception. John Reynard’s bodyguards. Apparently, after the disturbing incident in the shop, he’d assigned them to watch over his fiancée.

In a way, that was a good move on Reynard’s part. And it argued that Reynard had nothing to do with the attack at the dress shop, but it created a problem for Craig. He needed to get close to her again, and he’d have to make sure the men didn’t spot him. For a couple of reasons—chief of which was that it would put Stephanie at risk.