A Bride Worth Fighting For (11 page)

“I came to you because you were waiting for me.” Her stomach churned. The Rowans wouldn’t have set them up without his cooperation. She couldn’t bear to think he’d taken her out of pity because she’d thrown herself at him.

“I was minding my own business and trying my damnedest to keep away from you. Sex wasn’t supposed to happen, and it won’t happen again.” He stormed through the clearing, turned down the path, and disappeared into the trees.

“We didn’t have sex. We made love,” she shouted after him. Tossing back the covers, she exposed her bare legs. The morning air chilled her, but she didn’t care about the cold as she threw on her clothes.

Once she returned to her room, she could lock herself inside and cry and scream. Confusion, loss, and betrayal consumed her until she wanted to rage at the world. Dressed, she ran up the path to the Haus. In the lobby, a crowd of people stood waiting for the elevator.

No, she couldn’t share an elevator. She couldn’t be that close to another person. She searched frantically for an escape. Myron’s place behind the check-in desk was empty, the geometric design of the screen saver whirling on the computer.

She needed answers. Her fiancé’s refusal to give them to her would no longer stop her from uncovering the truth. Opening the browser, she typed, “Gwen Fairfax engagement.”

The first result, unsurprisingly, was an engagement announcement in a newspaper. Holding her breath, she clicked on the link. A picture of a couple appeared. She stood, smiling for the camera, her arms around a man…who wasn’t Tucker.

Pain sliced through her forehead. No. God, no. Just because something’s on the Internet doesn’t make it true.

Clinging to that hope, she blinked away the black dots in her vision to read the accompanying article. “Gwen Fairfax and John Wilde are pleased to announce their engagement. John is the son of Stanley and the late Jeanie Wilde, stepson of Darlene Wilde.”

She’d been engaged to Tucker’s little brother? Her stomach turned a slow, queasy flip. And she’d cheated on her real fiancé with his older brother.

As she read the rest of the dry announcement, vague memories—too little, too late—of the man she was supposed to marry stirred to life. He’d promised to help her turn the rundown house on the lake she’d inherited from her maiden aunt into the resort of her dreams. And she’d been so lonely and lost after her mother’s death, she’d latched on to the first person who offered her any semblance of a family connection.

She looked up from the computer. Tucker loomed over her, his expression hard. Damn it, he had no right to be angry. She ought to be furious with him. He’d known she’d been engaged to his brother, not him.

“How could we have betrayed your brother like this?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “How could you let me think I was engaged to you instead of him?”

He covered her hand on the mouse. Unable to deal with the contact, she yanked her hand out from under his, but apparently he only wanted the mouse, not to touch her, because with a series of clicks, he returned to the original search page and opened a link to a society blog.

“John left you at the altar, in the middle of the ceremony rather than marry you and let you use him for his money and land-development connections,” Tucker spat out. “He nearly killed you, trying to drive away while your dress was stuck in his car door.”

Bullets of blinding pain shot through her skull, and she brushed her fingers over the scar on the center of her forehead.

“Read all about it here, if you don’t believe me.” He gestured at the computer screen. “Instead of turning on me, maybe you should ask yourself how you could use people like my brother and if you have a good reason not to want to remember the person you used to be.”

He stormed away. Other guests scrambled out of his path as he headed for the front door. He shoved it open with such force it ricocheted off the outside wall of the building.

How could the truth be so different from what she’d believed the entire time she’d been in his company? Every memory she’d created at the Wiccan Haus had been based on lies. Last night had meant nothing, other than a way for him to screw her over for the way she’d apparently screwed over his family.

She swallowed and forced her attention on the computer monitor. Unlike Tucker’s assessment, the article portrayed her as a tragic, innocent victim of John’s defection and him by default as a first-class asshole. Technically, she hadn’t cheated on anyone when she slept with Tucker. She hadn’t been engaged because her fiancé had run out on her, killing her plans for her dream resort.

Shooting pains blasted through her skull, blinding her, the pain as unbearable as before she’d come to the island. If death was the only way to stop the pain, she’d take it. Dropping her head between her knees, she fell to the floor and curled into a ball, unable to speak, save for moans of agony.

Hurried footsteps and urgent voices surrounded her, but the commotion meant nothing. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead as someone rolled her onto her back. Then something metallic and bitter dripped into her mouth, and the world turned blessedly black.

***

Gwen awoke in the bed in her room. She opened her eyes to Sarka and Cyrus staring down at her and Cemil fidgeting between them. Sage sat on the edge of the bed, holding some sort of cool, damp cloth to her forehead. Blinding pain. That was all she remembered. She flinched at the memory. Then she recalled more, something truly terrifying.

“Why are you all here? Was I having a nightmare? Please tell me I had a nightmare. Something about remembering everything and Tucker hating me.” She shuddered. “He isn’t my fiancé. He was just pretending.”

The Rowans didn’t glance away from her or at each other, but their stoic faces frightened her more.

“Please say it was a nightmare.” Her voice rose with a panic she couldn’t control. “Tell me it’s not true. Please.”

Cemil grasped her hand, looking like he might burst into tears along with her. “The facts are true. But don’t judge your past intentions or Tucker’s intentions simply from the facts. Give your mind some time to let all the information sink in. Then you can start to analyze these new memories.”

Like she could trust any of her thoughts or memories again. To test herself, she tried to remember first laying eyes on her resort. Immediately, the sense of coming home, the feel of her feet on the gravel driveway, and the concern that she might fall through the rotted front steps all came back to her. First meeting John? Yes, she remembered his polite greeting and formal handshake.

The blank spaces and fuzziness that had overlaid her memories were gone, save for the time from when she’d hit her head until she awoke in the hospital.

“Drink this.” Sage held out another of her infamous yellow-green shakes. “When you finish it, your bath will be ready. Soak as long as you need. Then come out on the lawn for meditation.”

She nodded. Like when she’d first stepped off the ferry, she was grateful for someone to tell her what to do. Thinking for herself proved too draining.

The bath and meditation cleared her mind, allowing her to delve into her memories without flinching.

She hadn’t been in love with Tucker’s brother, but she’d liked him. And he’d been the one to suggest the marriage to help her achieve her dreams for the resort, selling her on the promise of a cozy, family-run establishment, rather than a business arrangement that only cared about the corporate bottom line. Because she’d accepted his offer, she fit the literal definition of a gold digger, but she hadn’t manipulated John and connived behind his back as Tucker had insinuated.

At the end of meditation, she struck up a conversation with some of the other guests. A couple on their honeymoon, Justin and Holly Lawson, invited her to join them for dinner, and she accepted, thankful not to have to sit across from Tucker and endure his censure for an entire meal.

She’d come to the Wiccan Haus to regain her memory. If someone had offered her the option, she’d gladly return to a life of amnesia.

For the first time, nature failed him. Tucker tried to immerse himself in studying plants, but no matter how unusual, exotic, or rare, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he watched from across the lawn as Gwen spent what seemed hours in trance-like meditation. Afterward, she sat with a couple who were obviously in love, not glancing at “their” table where he ignored the parade of staff that dropped by to fill her seat and keep him company.

Flying off the handle with accusations had been a terrible course of action. But their lovemaking had terrified him with its intensity, making him want her in his life forever, the same forever deal he’d been pretending was real.

With the truth bearing down on them, he’d focused on her impending rejection of him and her fury over his deception. Going on the offensive with his own anger to cover his fear had been easier. So he had, ensuring she wouldn’t guess how much his heart ached.

He might have saved himself emotionally, but he’d blown his chance for a rational discussion about the impact of her resort on the natural areas he wanted to preserve. Instead of working together and exploring the compromise ideas she’d tossed around earlier in the week, he’d turned her into an enemy who wouldn’t be willing to give him any benefit or consideration.

Yeah, he was stewing over the resort and the fragile plant life. Not his heart. Not the future they could have had together.

Shit. He couldn’t fool himself.

The next morning, he rolled out of bed and padded to the bedroom window. Below, a woman ran across the lawn wearing a bright-pink spandex shirt and matching black-and-pink knee-length pants. Her auburn ponytail bouncing, Gwen turned and jogged down the path to the lake.

He dressed and headed for the lobby, having no idea what he’d say when he caught up, but he had to say something. Whatever hurtful words he’d spewed at her, he didn’t believe she’d spent the week trying to deceive him. She’d been innocent and sweet, and he’d fallen for the woman with no memory.

She deserved to know he hadn’t slept with her to prove a point or to get back at her for the resort scheme. He’d slept with her because he liked her. No, he didn’t just like her. The root of his feelings went a lot deeper.

“Tucker,” Myron called to him from the front desk. Her name tag read
Vanessa
. “Your brother called and left what he considered an urgent message. We don’t always agree with what you might classify as urgent.”

Every cell inside him rebelled at the possibility of John reconsidering his defection and wanting Gwen back. But after sleeping with her and dumping her, Tucker didn’t deserve a say in what happened between them. “What’s the message?”

Instead of answering, Myron picked up the phone receiver and held it out to him. She pushed a couple buttons, and a recording of John’s voice played in his ear.

“Tucker, it’s John. Big changes are going down this week. I’m running Wilde Land Development now—the way Dad used to run it. But that’s irrelevant at the moment. Darlene’s plan is to personally partner with Gwen to get her to sign over her resort property. Darlene might promise to fund the resort and help her run it like a family business, but her master plan is to knock down the old building and parcel the land into subdivision strips. That’s why she wanted me to marry Gwen, you know, so she’d only be creating a family fight, not violating any legal contracts, by doing what she wanted with the property. Now that she’s lost control, she’s taking the power and connections she built through our company to create a competing land-development firm, and Gwen’s property is her all-or-nothing chance to prove herself.”

Replaying the message in his head, Tucker returned the phone receiver to its cradle. The scheme fit with what he knew of Darlene, although he’d never expected her to give up his father’s company without a fight, especially to John who’d proved with his almost marriage just how easily he could be manipulated by her.

“Your little brother’s not a kid anymore. He’s old enough to handle the company and your stepmother’s shit,” Myron said.

He had no idea how she knew anything about his brother beyond the message, but she delivered the commentary so confidently, he didn’t question her.

“Besides, you have your work cut out for you with Gwen.”

“What do you mean?” He had to question now to discover what he was up against.

“You accused her of manipulating and scheming when she’d done nothing of the sort. Now that her head injury is healed and she can think clearly, you’re too stubborn to give her the benefit of the doubt. You should be terrified she’ll look at you and dismiss you because you’re not worthy of her.”

He flinched, not from Myron’s tirade but from the truth of her assessment. John had called, not just to act in the company’s best interests. He was also looking out for Tucker’s conservation efforts and Gwen’s resort dreams, but, unlike Tucker, he’d gathered his facts before he went off half-cocked.

Tucker slammed out of the Haus again, this time running toward the path to the lake. He didn’t deserve a second chance to fix things, let alone a second glance. Yet, somehow, he needed to convince Gwen she should give him those things.

Not used to running, his knees had turned to rubber by the time the path ended at the sandy beach leading to the lake. Unlike the fake trucked-in sand of manmade beaches, the natural landscape before him teemed with sandy-soil vegetation.

The lake area appeared empty of human life, however. He paused, assessing which way she would have run. He’d have to follow her at a walk. He’d reached the end of his jogging endurance.

With another sweep of the landscape, he pinpointed her sitting on a rock along the shore, her bare feet dangling in the water. He walked toward her, stepping over her shoes and socks abandoned halfway up the beach. “You look like you’re thinking way too hard.”

She startled and slipped, falling forward into the water.

Tucker lunged for her and caught her before she dunked under.

She grasped his forearms. “Thanks. But you might want to rethink that decision. I would have been fine in two feet of water, and your work boots and jeans are now soaked.”