Joan Kilby - When Love Is True

Daniel’s gaze dropped to Chloe’s stomach, which was hidden by a bouquet of freesias and white roses. “Who gets married these days just because the girl is pregnant?” Rob, his brother and best man, had asked.

Daniel’s answer had been simple, “I do.”

How was it possible to love a woman as much as he loved Chloe, when she didn’t love him back? He hadn’t been looking for a wife; he was just a carpenter working on the construction of new homes, without a thought for the future. He’d taken his dirty clothes to the Laundromat and there she’d been, weeping over another man’s dirty shirt.

Rob thought he was a sap for getting involved with a woman on the rebound, but Daniel didn’t care. Chloe’s relationship with Evan was over—she’d told him so. Daniel had never met anyone like her. Small and bright, lively and graceful, she reminded him of a robin, vivid red against a snow-covered fence, a sure sign that spring was on its way.

He hadn’t intended to drink quite so much that first night. He’d simply tagged along to look out for her while she drowned her sorrows, but she’d insisted he match her glass for glass. Even then, it had been she who had pulled him into bed—not that he’d put up any resistance.

Daniel glanced around the packed church, which was filled with smiling, happy people. Dozens of his relatives were there, and Chloe had also invited numerous friends. Guests who couldn’t find seats stood in a throng behind the back pew. There, a blond man with a three-day beard and rumpled black shirt caught Daniel’s eye. Alone, among the many guests, this man was scowling.

Daniel’s uneasy gaze moved back to Chloe. She was almost at the head of the aisle, gripping her father’s arm with white knuckles. Then she took her place beside Daniel. Daniel’s fingers curled into his palms, but he kept his smile steady and his gaze loving. No one was forcing her to marry him. Sure, she had doubts; that was understandable. That’s why she needed him to be strong, certain.

The ceremony was brief, but to Daniel at least it was full of meaning. The solemn words and religious ritual sanctified their union, assured him that this marriage was meant to be. The legal bond gave him rights. The child gave him responsibilities. Chloe gave him…Well, Chloe had given him herself. And he intended to keep her.

“I do.” She smiled at him, her voice tremulous but sincere.

“I do.” His fingers shook as he slid the wedding band onto her finger.

Daniel kissed his bride. It was brief but, oh, so sweet. A surge of love and a fierce desire to protect and cherish her welled up in Daniel as he smiled into her eyes. Then they turned as one and walked down the aisle. The flowers decorating the pews gave off a heady scent. Chloe’s hand felt small and cold nestled inside Daniel’s, like a wounded bird seeking refuge.

He glanced sideways at her clean, sharp profile and his heart soared. The baby would complete the job the ceremony had begun and bind them with love and purpose.

Then he became aware of movement among the guests to his left. The blond man in the black shirt was edging his way to the front. Chloe noticed him a split second later. Daniel felt her hand tighten in his, heard her faint gasp. Evan, her ex-lover. Chloe’s step faltered. Daniel supported her elbow and bore her out the door and down the steps. Away, he had to get her away.

They had almost reached the waiting limo when she glanced over her shoulder. Her entire being strained backward and Daniel read the terrible truth in Chloe’s eyes, as a blizzard of confetti swirled around them.

She still loved Evan. He wondered if she always would.

Evan prowled the perimeter of the reception hall like a wolf circling a rival’s territory. He was the un-invited guest and he felt like howling. He’d come straight from the airport—his unpacked suitcase was still in the trunk of his rental car. His fingers rubbed against the stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t even taken time to shave.

Chloe and her new husband were seated at the brightly lit head table, looking as stiff as the plastic figurines atop the wedding cake. Chloe’s eyes followed Evan’s progress around the room, tethering him to the hall with her longing. The groom was aware of Evan, too, and his dark eyes smoldered with anger and resentment.

Why had she tied herself to this doltish lumberjack of a man, Evan wondered. She’d moved toward that altar as if she were a virgin on her way to be sacrificed. Her nearly illegible note, dashed off in haste and smudged with her tears, had explained that she was pregnant. Whose baby was it?

Evan picked a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. Was theirs a once-in-a-lifetime love, as Chloe had maintained? Certainly his feelings for her were strong enough to make him catch the first flight out of Khartoum after receiving her letter. That had surprised even him but, then, he was always prepared, physically and mentally, for a quick departure.

The happy couple were getting up to dance the first waltz together. Evan tilted back his champagne, downing it in a long swallow that made his nose burn. Traditional claptrap, this had to be the groom’s doing. Chloe was a free spirit.

A hand slid over Evan’s forearm and he turned to see an attractive brunette in a red dress. “I’m Valerie,” the woman said. “Would you like to dance?”

Evan started to decline—he wasn’t fit company for anyone tonight. Then he glanced toward the dance floor again and set his glass on the nearest table. “It would be my pleasure.”

He remembered to smile at his partner and tried to reply to her small talk, but his gaze kept drifting to Chloe. Her face, with its fine bones and eyes the color of the summer sky at twilight, was more memorable than beautiful. Although she was small, she held her back straight and her head fiercely upright. Her steps were deliberate and graceful. Her eyes were puffy, however, as if she’d been crying.

Two dances later, Evan thanked Valerie and turned to face Chloe. With a self-mocking smile and a stiff bow, he said, “My best wishes to the happy couple.”

“You weren’t invited…” the big man began.

“Oh, but I was,” Evan said, his voice grating slightly with the effort of being civil. “Chloe sent me a letter.”

“Daniel,” Chloe said, holding his arm. “This is Evan.”

“Who cares?” Daniel growled.

“I don’t expect you to,” Evan replied evenly. Then he turned to Chloe and asked, “May I have this dance?”

Daniel glared at him and touched Chloe on the elbow, a gesture that was both possessive and protective. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay, Daniel,” Chloe said, taking a deep breath as if to calm herself. “I’ll see you back at the table.”

By sheer coincidence, the next song was a ballad that Evan and Chloe had first heard together. Evan drew her into his arms and pressed his lips against her temple, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought.

“Evan, don’t,” she said, resisting his embrace.

“Chloe, love,” he murmured. “What have you done?”

She leaned away from him to search his face. “I thought you weren’t going to come.” Her voice broke. “You came too late.”

There was no point now in hurting her. Evan had watched the entire ceremony, including the part where the minister had asked if there was any reason why Chloe and Daniel shouldn’t be joined together. The impulse to speak had been there, but only fleetingly. Evan had told her before he’d left for Sudan that he’d be back when his stint was up—and probably that would have been true. But they’d known each other a mere six weeks and he was only twenty-eight; he had a whole world to explore before he settled down.

“I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.” He cupped her chin with his long fingers and lifted it so he could search her eyes. “Is the baby mine?”