Carolyn Greene - Marrying Mr. Right

“Do you want to marry him as much as your parents want you to?” “Do you want to marry him as much as your parents want you to?” Christina felt her face grow warm. Jerking her hand away from Greg’s grasp, she busied herself with clearing the table. “Of course I want to many him. Why would you ask such a thing?” “Because you’re still married to me.” Greg followed Christina as she took the dishes into the kitchen. “After all these years, you’ve never made a move to get a divorce. And I’d venture a guess that you’re still a virgin.” “I don’t think that’s any of your business!” The dishes clattered into the sink “Ah, but It’s true, isn’t it? Because you’re not the kind of woman who would cheat on her husband, no matter how long he’s been gone.” Christina glared at him. “For your information, I take my vows very seriously.” “Those vows also said ‘until death do us part,” he reminded her “A marriage isn’t dead until the last bit of love is gone.” He moved closer and took her in his arms. “And last time I looked it was still alive and breathing....” Title Page Marrying Mr. Right Carolyn Greene www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication To Bonnie Pega, flower lady extraordinaire. And to Ernest Irby, my favorite magistrate. PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN EPILOGUE Copyright

“Do you want to marry him as much as your parents want you to?”

Christina felt her face grow warm. Jerking her hand away from Greg’s grasp, she busied herself with clearing the table. “Of course I want to many him. Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Because you’re still married to me.” Greg followed Christina as she took the dishes into the kitchen. “After all these years, you’ve never made a move to get a divorce. And I’d venture a guess that you’re still a virgin.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business!” The dishes clattered into the sink

“Ah, but It’s true, isn’t it? Because you’re not the kind of woman who would cheat on her husband, no matter how long he’s been gone.”

Christina glared at him. “For your information, I take my vows very seriously.”

“Those vows also said ‘until death do us part,” he reminded her “A marriage isn’t dead until the last bit of love is gone.” He moved closer and took her in his arms. “And last time I looked it was still alive and breathing....”

True love is worth waiting for...

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another book in our miniseries WHITE

WEDDINGS.

Everyone loves a wedding, with all the excitement of the big day: flowers, champagne and the thrill of the happy couple exchanging vows.... Over the next few months, some of your favorite authors will bring you all this and more in a series of very special romances.

You’ll meet blushing brides and gorgeous grooms, all with one thing in common: for better or worse, they’re determined the bride should wear white on her wedding day...which means keeping passions in check! Because for these couples, true love waits—until the wedding night...

Happy Reading!

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Bonnie Pega, flower lady extraordinaire.

And to Ernest Irby, my favorite magistrate.

PROLOGUE

“WE’RE here to be married.”

Greg’s voice was deeper than most eighteen-year-olds’, giving him an air of authority that some men twice his age didn’t possess. Christina sighed as the warm, vibrant tones surrounded her and melted any fragments of doubt that lingered in her subconscious.

The magistrate flashed a cynical frown at his secretary who passed him the forms they’d filled out earlier. Then he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the cluttered mahogany desk. “Manied, eh? I would’ve figured you for a traffic violation or vandalism.”

The man turned to Christina and studied her carefully.

Christina self-consciously pushed back a windblown tendril of blond hair and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress. She’d chosen to wear the white sundress because its color fit the occasion, but now she realized it only served to accentuate the differences between her and Greg.

With his deep-set dark eyes and disreputable-looking biker clothes, it was easy to see why he’d earned the nickname, “The Italian Rapscallion.” Greg slid his arm around her waist, and for the thousandth time that day—and the millionth time since she’d met him—she felt her heart thudding against her ribs.

As for Christina, with her light hair, fair complexion and eyelet-lace ruffles, she knew she must look every bit the sheriff’s daughter. And the homemade rag doll she was holding must have only added to her aura of innocence. She dropped her arm so that the doll hung more discreetly by her side.

Mr. Terby took off his glasses and laid them on their marriage papers. “Do your parents know where you are, little girl?”

She straightened and clutched the doll tighter. “I’m not a little girl,” she said, fully aware of the contradiction between her words and the image she was presenting. “I’m eighteen years and one month old, which is legal marriying age in Virginia.”

“So it is,” he said, putting the glasses back on and straightening papers. “But, as a father myself, I feel it’s my civic duty to see that young people don’t rush into a decision they may later regret.” This time he stared over his half glasses at both of them. “How long have you been engaged?”

Greg looked at his watch. “Two hours.” His attitude said, Wanna make Something of it?

Not a word was spoken for a full minute as each male refused to back down from the other. As always, Christina was amazed at how casually Greg dared to defy someone in such a high position of authority. And she knew from having seen him glare down the school principal and assorted teachers that polyester stretch pants would come in style before Greg would buckle. His refusal to back down from any challenge was one of the many reasons Christina found herself attracted to him.

Finally, Mr. Terby turned back to Christina with a resigned sigh. “If you and your baby doll are ready—”

“It’s not a baby doll.” Although her words were barely more than a whisper, they captured the magistrate’s attention. Now she wasn’t sure how to explain why it was so important to include in the wedding ceremony the rag doll she and Greg had made in class. The doll they sewed themselves and were assigned to “raise” as their child in the Family Life course at school had sentimental value in their relationship, which was why she’d brought it along for this big event.

Mr. Terby raised one graying eyebrow.

“It’s our son, Murdock,” Greg said without a hint of embarrassment. He didn’t bother to elaborate further, even though it was clear he’d snagged the older man’s curiosity with his statement.

Greg slanted his gaze at Christina and flashed her a mischievous wink. The simple gesture assured her that—unlike Mr. Terby—he didn’t think she was silly or overly sentimental for bringing the memento to their wedding. Although they were as different as two people could. be, Christina knew she’d found a kindred spirit in Greg.

Mr. Terby heaved another sigh. “Very well. Let’s get on with it.” He stood and walked around his desk to a filing cabinet, where he retrieved a thin booklet bound with a narrow gold cord. Then he turned and, grabbing a crocheted loop that dangled high on the wall, pulled down a screen covered with a painted backdrop of a rose-covered trellis. Taking his position in front of it, he palmed his hair to smooth it, then beckoned them to join him.