Elizabeth August - The Bride's Second Thought

Quickly Ellen feigned intense interest in the page in front of her. But again her mind didn’t focus on the words, instead the blue of her host’s eyes intrigued her. Charles’s eyes were blue as well, but they were more pale in color. Peter Whitley’s eyes reminded her of sky darkened just before a storm.

Admitting that trying to relax was useless, she put the book aside, rose and went to the window to look out. In the dim light of the porch lamp she could see the huge flakes still falling, and the sound of the wind told her the storm was continuing to rage. “Shouldn’t we call the nearest garage and make an appointment to have their wrecker come pull me out as soon as the storm subsides?” she asked, abruptly breaking the silence hanging over the room.

“I did that while you were washing the dishes,” Peter replied.

She assumed that, like before, he would immediately return his attention to his book, but a prickling on her neck suggested otherwise. She turned and was met by a pair of cool blue eyes. “Thanks.” That seemed, she thought, to be the major extent of her vocabulary since they’d met.

Hoping to rid himself of all temptation, Peter said, “If you’re anxious to get out of here because you want to make amends with your fiancé, you could call him.”

Her jaw tensed. “I can’t talk to him. Not yet, anyway.”

Her nervousness was making him edgy. Worse, though, was her moving around the room. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Deciding that, seated, she would be much less dangerous to his control, he said, “I apologize for not being a good host. If you’d like, we could play a game of chess or cards.”

His offer, she could tell, was genuine, but the thought of sitting made her legs ache. “What I’d really like to do is scream.”

“Go ahead. I’d be grateful for anything that would reduce the tension in this room.”

That her distress was affecting him surprised her. She’d been sure her presence was no more noticeable to him than one of the chairs or some other inanimate object. “I’m sorry.”

Peter found himself focusing on her lips and wondering how they would taste. He needed a diversion, something that would discourage such thoughts. Talking about her fiancé should do the trick. “I make it a rule never to pry into anyone else’s private life. However, if it would be helpful for you to talk about whatever sent you on this excursion, I’m willing to listen.”

The image of Charles wearing nothing but a bathrobe, caused Ellen’s anger to rekindle. “Being a man, you’ll probably think it’s amusing.”

He frowned at the implication that all men were insensitive clods. “I find nothing amusing about a person placing themself in danger.”

Realizing she’d lashed out unfairly at him, she flushed. “I apologize. It’s just that I trusted Charles. Now I’m wondering if I can trust any man.”

“No one is perfect.”

Too tense to remain in one place, she paced across the room. Coming to a halt behind the couch, she met his gaze squarely. “I never expected perfection. And I was perfectly willing to forget about any liaisons he’d had before we started dating. But once he’d declared his love for me and we became engaged, I did expect fidelity.” The anger in her eyes flared hotter. “Last night I caught him with another woman. I’m a mechanical engineer. He thought I was going to be at the plant all night working out a problem we were having with one of the robotic arms. But I solved it more quickly than I thought I would and stopped by his place with Chinese takeout. I figured we could have a late dinner together.”

Peter found himself thinking that Charles must be a real idiot. “He was probably having one last fling before he marched down the aisle. Some men feel that need.”

“You make it sound so frivolous, as if he’d done nothing worse than go out for a night with the guys.” She studied him coldly. “Are you men so shallow you don’t know the meaning of commitment?”

Again he bristled at being lumped into a single category with all other men. “I know the meaning of commitment. If I loved a woman, she wouldn’t have to worry about me straying.”

Ellen felt herself being drawn into the blue depths of his eyes. The purpose and resolve she saw there was so powerful it was akin to a physical force. Every instinct told her that this man meant what he said. As the blue of his eyes seemed to engulf her, the thought that he was what she’d waited all her life for flashed through her mind.

Peter was acutely aware of the way the brown of her eyes was softening. She’s in a vulnerable state right now. he reminded himself. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of her, and he’d always tried to do what was right. “Did you give him a chance to explain?” he asked curtly.

“Who? Explain...?” For a moment she’d forgotten about everyone and everything but her host. The intensity of the momentary, unexpected attraction she’d experienced shook her. His sudden aloofness suggested he’d been aware of her reaction and wasn’t pleased. An embarrassed tint reddened her cheeks.

“Charles,” Peter replied.

“Charles,” she repeated the name. Her fiancé’s image came sharply back to mind, and anger washed away her embarrassment. Her gaze became icy. “He tried to blame me. Can you believe that? He actually tried to blame me!”

“He tried to blame you for his affair?” Interesting ploy, Peter mused.

Her shoulders squared with dignity. “I suppose you’d consider me a throwback to another era, but I was saving myself for marriage.” She caught the glint of surprise in his eyes. “Yes, that’s right. Standing before you is a twenty-nine-year-old virgin. Bet you never thought you’d see one of those in this day and age.”

“I never really gave it much thought one way or the other.” Peter found himself thinking that she looked kind of cute when she was angry.

Her jaw tightened in proud defiance. “I figured it was a good path to follow. The consummation of my marriage would be special. In addition, I would also avoid the possibility of contracting AIDS and other undesirable diseases or ending up pregnant out of wedlock.” Her anger flared hotter. “And it hasn’t been easy. I’m not frigid. There have been times when I was tempted.”

Peter saw the flicker of hurt that passed over her features and knew that behind her anger was the pain of someone who felt betrayed. “A lot of people would consider your decision admirable.”

“If so, they’re keeping awfully quiet,” she retorted, pacing once again. “Newspapers, television and magazines have the soap box, and the majority of what I read and see wouldn’t support your view.” She breathed a tired sigh. Again approaching the couch, she rested her hands on its back and faced Peter levelly. “But then I’ve never let what anyone else thought determine my course of action. Even after we became engaged I insisted on waiting until our wedding night. I thought it would make the consummation of our love more important somehow.”

The bitter edge returned to her voice. “He claimed it simply made him frustrated. He said he was a healthy male and needed female companionship. He said it was my fault he had to seek out a different companion.” She straightened, indignation etching into her features. “And do you know who he chose? No, of course you don’t. Well, I’ll tell you. It was the twenty-two-year-old redheaded receptionist from the plant. I’d seen her flirting with Charles, but I trusted him.”

Peter found himself not liking the role, but he heard himself playing the devil’s advocate. “There is another way to look at this.”

She glared at him. “And what way is that?”

“Maybe he’s gotten his cheating out of his system. Better now than after the vows are said.”