Jean Barrett - White Wedding

Before Jack could object, Ronnie linked a proprietary arm through his. “Sit with me, and you can tell me all about these important fossils of yours.”

Lane watched an irritated Jack being hauled off to the second sleigh. She felt sorry for him. Almost.

Dan, falling in step beside Lane as the rest of them moved toward the sleighs, whispered in concern, “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, then offered a quick apology. “I’m sorry about that. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Riding with you? On the contrary, it’s my pleasure.” She could feel his curious gaze on her as they reached the end of the dock. “An old friend of yours?”

She knew he was referring to Jack. “Not exactly.” She hesitated. There was no reason he shouldn’t know. “Try an old husband. Now,” she added, just as buoyantly as she could, “would you like to suggest some graceful way to climb down from this dock and into that sleigh?”

* * *

THE HORSES WERE POWERFUL Belgians, able to draw the heavy sleighs over the fractured ice of the broad harbor with an effortless ease. The snow cover, thick in places, almost nonexistent in others, formed swirling patterns across the wrinkled surface. Through the brittle air the sleigh bells called to each other musically.

It should have been a pleasant experience, one that Lane could enjoy without reservation. Instead, she twisted in her seat to gaze back longingly at the receding village where a pair of white church steeples rose through the dark evergreens against the steep hillside. Those spires looked so solid and comforting, the ice beneath her so fearfully insecure.

“No need to be nervous,” her insightful companion assured her. “We don’t very often get safe ice on the bay this soon in the season, but it’s been an unusually early winter with a lot of hard freezes. And the Nordstrom brothers,” he added, referring to their drivers, “are experienced and know what they’re doing.”

Lane turned her head, managing a lopsided smile for Dan beside her. “That obvious, huh?”

“Your tension? Well, a little,” he conceded with a gentle smile.

She considered him, thinking how different he was from his cousin, Allison, with his relaxed manner and brown hair frosted with gray. He was the sort of person who prompted confidences, probably a good quality in a judge. She decided to share a confidence of her own.

“And I was hoping it wouldn’t show. But I really do have a good reason for minding so much. Bad memory.”

“Something traumatic?” he guessed.

“You could say that. When I was about eight or so a playmate and I went out skating where we had no business to be. The ice was rotten, and it collapsed under us. I was lucky. They managed to fish me out. She wasn’t. She was dragged under the ice. When they did get to her it was, well, too late.”

“Good Lord,” he murmured sympathetically, “then this crossing must be a real ordeal for you.”

Her laugh was shaky, and she knew it. “Let’s just say that when it comes to ice I prefer it in my drinks to having it under my feet. Uh, I’d appreciate it if my little confession was just between the two of us.”

“Done.”

“Thank you.”

Lane made another concentrated effort to enjoy the crossing. Or at least tolerate it. Not easy considering their present position. They had left the harbor behind them and were now on the open reaches of the great bay. The frozen sea, like a lunar landscape, was seamed with hazards around which the sleighs carefully detoured. The ice had faulted and folded in some past thaw—huge, upthrust slabs of it scraped head-high along a shoal. The stacked shards glittered like crystal under the winter sun.

Dan pointed to small, jerry-built shelters scattered across the surface. Some of them had small Christmas trees anchored to their roofs. “Fishing shanties,” he explained. “If it’s clear tomorrow, holiday or not, the ice fishers will drive out here in bunches in their trucks and spend most of the day.”

She knew he meant it as another encouragement. It didn’t work. She was too busy minding the alien ice. She could swear it was alive. She could actually hear it now creaking, snapping with the cold, rolling like drums in the distance. Awful.

“Have you and Allison been longtime friends?” he asked her.

Lane suspected that his question wasn’t motivated by curiosity but was actually a further attempt to distract her from the terrors of the ice. She was more than willing to accommodate him.

“Have I been kept a secret?” she teased.

“Well, we’re the only family each other has these days, but with Allison way off in Chicago most of the year, I’m afraid we don’t keep up with each other’s lives.”

“Then to answer your question, yes, we do go back a few years. Since our undergraduate days at Northwestern University, actually. And it was a pretty unlikely beginning. Our friendship, that is.”

“Why is that?”

“Well—” The sleigh runners struck a rough spot in the ice, jouncing them. Lane fought her anxiety and continued. “We were universes apart. I was fresh off the farm—Indiana, to be exact—and as green as they make them. I wouldn’t have been there at all if it hadn’t been for a generous scholarship. And here was Allison and her crowd with every advantage behind them.” She realized how that might sound to Dan. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

His small laugh interrupted her. “Don’t apologize. It’s Allison’s side of the family with all the money, not mine.”

“Anyway, I completely misunderstood her. I thought she was...oh, you know, the stereotypical spoiled heiress. And to be honest about it, I guess there is that side of her. But nobody minds it, do they? She’s too lovable and generous.”

“To a fault,” he agreed. “So the friendship was born?”

“As I remember, it had something to do with rescuing me from a lecherous quarterback. After that she more or less adopted me. I think Allison was convinced I was much too naive to survive on my own. She was probably right. So here we are, still friends—though long-distance friends now—and the relationship still amazes me.”

Northwestern University, Lane thought. It wasn’t just Allison she had met back then. Jack Donovan had been there, too, working on his doctorate and already making a reputation for himself in his field. If it was true that her connection with Allison had been improbable, then her bonding with Jack could be defined as incredible.

From the beginning, from their first encounter, in fact, the sexual attraction between them had been so powerful it had stunned both of them. But the miracle—and it had been just that—never stood a chance.

Not smart, she reminded herself. Not smart at all reliving her brief marriage, remembering how hard she had fallen for him and the heartache that had eventually resulted. But how could she avoid remembering? An absent Jack Donovan was hard enough to forget. But when he was actually here, only yards away in the next sleigh, the effort was impossible.

Though she had resisted riding with him, permitting Ronnie Bauer to inflict herself on the poor man, she couldn’t prevent her awareness of Jack. Even from here his Gaelic good looks were evident. It hurt just looking at him.

Why was he here, and how was she supposed to spend an entire weekend in the same house with him? And that unexplained warning of his back on the dock... What did that mean? Nothing, she tried to convince herself. Just a ploy to get her to ride with him. Then why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

Danger. There was an aura of danger here that intensified when Jack sensed her gaze on him. He swiveled in his seat, making eye contact with her across the ice that separated them. The hot challenge in his probing stare robbed her lungs of air. There was also a glowering accusation in his look. Jack was not prepared to forgive her for Ronnie. The woman, squeezed against him as tightly as decency permitted, was clearly aggravating him on every level.