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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie (9 page)

BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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It was, all in all, a romantic, heart-softening book of memories. Seeing the damp eyes of the women who surrounded her, Brynn could tell they had been affected by the pictures. And for a moment it all seemed real—the courtship, the wedding, her relationship with Gregory, the new friends she was making.
From the corner of one misty eye, she spotted Matt. He lounged on the sidelines, but one look at his face told her he’d heard everything. In that same instant, her stomach clenched as she realized he hadn’t bought the story.
As the women crowded around her, Brynn took temporary refuge in the shield they provided. She guessed that by morning, she had better come up with some answers he would believe.
Chapter Six
H
aving learned Brynn’s habits, Matt staked out the patio. It was late afternoon and as he’d expected, she and her pets strolled outside.
“Give us a kiss,” Bossy ordered as the nearly sightless Snookems bumped into the high-handed bird.
Lancelot barked, but it was hard to tell whether in agreement or contradiction.
What a menagerie, he thought. He had learned the history of the odd trio from his younger siblings. He watched as Brynn paused at the table, seeing her eyes widen first at the assortment of pastries, finger sandwiches, and a pot of fragrant, newly brewed tea. Then they nearly doubled in size when she spotted the wedding album.
Her hand reached out to touch the cover, as though not certain whether to trust her eyes. “Have you heard news about Gregory?” Trepidation colored her tone, she wondered if this was his way of cushioning a blow.
But Matt shook his head. “Nothing like that. I called about an hour ago. Still nothing.”
She gestured to the elaborate spread. “What’s all this?”
“I thought we could go through the album,” Matt announced from the corner of the patio, seeing her head jerk upward in surprise. “Too many women around earlier for me to get a good look.”
She pulled her hand back as though the pictures might burn. “I’m sure you’ve seen them before.”
“I got a glance. But not with the narration.”
“There’s not that much to tell,” she evaded.
“From what I heard, there was plenty.”
well I...”
He gestured toward the spread on the table. “And with your Irish background, I thought you might like afternoon tea.”
Brynn looked at him, not certain whether he was being thoughtful or simply mocking her story. Nor was she certain whether it was Stephanie’s fire or her own she felt rekindling. “Actually, I love tea. And the animals would love a snack.”
Matt felt the quick prick of her subtle needling. Snacks fit not for her, but for her own little zoo. He didn’t let the aim of her well-placed barb show. Instead, he shrugged. “Everyone... and everything. . . gets hungry.”
Nervously she glanced around as though looking for an escape route. But he didn’t plan to let that happen. He knew his brother, and the tale she’d just told about their wedding defied everything Gregory embodied.
Matt pulled out one of the two chairs at the table.
Brynn didn’t look pleased, but she sat down.
Taking the other chair, Matt sat close enough to see the album clearly.
Brynn reached for the teapot. “Tea?”
“It probably won’t kill me,” he acknowledged. When her brows lifted, he shrugged sweater-clad shoulders. “Nothing like a hot drink to take away the late-afternoon chill.”
She poured the tea, taking an inordinately long time to fill the two cups.
“Sugar?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” He saw her pick up the lemon. “No lemon either.”
She passed the tiered plate. “Sandwich?”
At this rate, they’d get to the album in about eight hours. He picked out a few of the sissy, bite-size sandwiches and before she could retrieve the server, he took some pastries as well, hoping to shorten her drawn-out, stalling actions.
As she replaced the server, he opened the album. The first picture was benign enough. Simple individual portraits.
Then he turned to the photo of the country church. “Ireland, huh?”
“Yes,” she answered shortly.
“I can’t believe Gregory would agree to such a remote area.”
“It a beautiful spot,” she insisted.
“I can see that.” Glancing more closely at the photo he could see it was true. “It’s just not Gregory’s sort of place.”
“It’s mine,” she retorted.
“Uh-huh.” And when had Gregory ever bent to another person’s wishes so completely? “How’d you ever talk Gregory into eloping? I can’t believe he’d give up a networking opportunity like that. Gregory always took self-promotion seriously. That’s what made him a corporate vice-president before he was thirty. He could have gotten a lot of miles out of a big splashy wedding in the city.”
“That’s not the kind of wedding we wanted,” she protested stubbornly.
“We? Doesn’t look like the kind of wedding Gregory would want. The only time he goes anywhere that remote, it’s because his company has business there, like the South American deal that got him kidnapped. I don’t remember hearing that there’s a plant being built in the British Isles.”
“The place isn’t important,” she replied tightly.
“No, but who you invite is. Gregory has been dedicated to his career since he graduated from business school. Why else does anyone go to Harvard School of Business?”
Brynn’s expression was defensive. “Perhaps because you want to be the best at what you do.”
“Exactly. And for Gregory that means networking. Constantly. And photo ops. What better combination than a high-profile wedding? One he could parlay into a spread in
Town and Country
. I can’t believe Gregory would give up an opportunity like that.”
Two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks and her brilliant blue eyes were lit with a fevered intensity. “When you’re in love, people compromise. And they do things simply because they love you. It doesn’t have to make sense, or fall into predictable patterns. That’s not what love’s about.”
Matt fiddled with the unwanted cup of tea, quieted by her fervent declaration. Apparently love could change even Gregory. “So you had your dream wedding?”
Her color didn’t fade. Instead she clutched the teacup closer. “Yes. Even though it doesn’t meet with your approval.”
He pushed frustrated fingers through his hair. From her wounded expression, it was clear his questions had hurt her, and that hadn’t been his intent. He’d only wanted to discover why nothing about Brynn and her relationship with Gregory made sense. He still had dozens of questions, and an unresolved feeling that he couldn’t identify.
But he sensed it was time to back off. The last thing he needed was his brother’s bride in tears. “Actually, a casual wedding would meet my approval—it suits me. I never have seen the reason to fill a church with so many people that the bride and groom nearly get lost in the crush. But, then, I don’t think much like Gregory.”
She took a sandwich, then lowered it to her plate without tasting it. “I suspected it might upset your family that we...that there wasn’t a big wedding for them to see.”
“As long as it’s what makes you and Gregory happy, I don’t think anybody cares about missing the show.” He thought for a moment. “It might have bothered my mother—you know how they are about sentimental stuff.” A sudden thought struck him. “What about your family? Weren’t they upset about missing the wedding?”
Brynn felt a sudden constriction. Her mother wouldn’t be upset to miss her wedding. Even the real thing. She cleared her throat. “It’s just my mother, and she’s very...understanding.”
“You’re lucky, then. I thought the mother-of-the-bride thing was a pretty big deal.”
Brynn thought of her mother who tried to pretend she didn’t have a twenty-six-year-old daughter because it brought her age into view. “We’re not a real traditional family, so she wasn’t that surprised by my choice.” Brynn wondered why she hadn’t been struck by lightning with all the lies she’d been telling. While she got caught up in Stephanie’s daring, she was also caught in a mounting dose of guilt.
“You always do the unusual?” he asked, enjoying the soft play of emotions crossing her face. He had the urge to reach out and remove her glasses, to see her huge eyes without the barrier of oversize lenses and heavy rims, to monitor their reactions.
She pushed at those glasses, ducking her head a bit. “I’m not sure you could say that.”
“No? You don’t consider eloping to an isolated spot in Ireland unusual?”
“I guess that depends on your idea of unusual,” she replied.
“Coming from a long line of Magees, I’m surprised you didn’t fill the church with relatives.”
“As I said, my family’s small. The only true Magee I knew was my grandmother.” Brynn’s voice softened as truth overtook fantasy. “She was wonderful...kind, always having lots of time for me, telling me incredible stories, encouraging my dreams—even my silly daydreams.”
“Your father died young, then?”
She paused. “No. He and my mother divorced when I was very young. He moved to Australia and we didn’t see him, or hear from him. But, my grandmother Magee insisted on taking care of me. I think she felt guilty because my father disappeared and she tried to make it up to me.”
“Sounds like you were close.”
“Very. She was everything to me. And her stories opened up a whole world for me.” Lost for a moment in those memories, Brynn forgot that she was sharing her most private thoughts with him—thoughts she hadn’t shared with anyone else.
“Having divorced parents isn’t unusual anymore. Sounds like you had a stable home life.”
Brynn laughed at the irony. Moving constantly from city to city, as her mother searched for an inexplicable happiness that constantly eluded her, had been anything but stable.
Shy to begin with, Brynn hadn’t lived anywhere long enough to form friendships. And that timidity had remained with her through adulthood, leaving her no confidantes for all the thoughts and emotions she had. As she had when she was a child, Brynn still turned to daydreams as her way of coping, a way of playing out her thoughts and desires. But that would change when Gregory returned. He would listen patiently to all her hopes and dreams. He would be friend, confidant...lover.
“Brynn,” Matt repeated, wondering where he’d lost her. “You were telling me about your home life.”
Jerked back to reality, rather than answering Matt’s question, she picked up the teapot. “More tea?”
He pointed to his still-full cup. “I’m not sure where you’d pour it.”
“Oh, I guess I wasn’t thinking,” she replied, flustered, Daydreaming again. It had often made her look and feel foolish.
“You looked like you were a few galaxies away,” he commented, not telling her that he’d enjoyed the unguarded expression, the dreamy look on her face. Since she hadn’t noticed, he’d taken the opportunity to study her translucent ivory skin—a true stamp of her Irish ancestry, along with her shiny black hair and remarkable blue eyes. Eyes that he suspected reflected the color of the Irish skies. Catching himself, Matt realized his thoughts were taking a distinctly unbrotherly turn.
Brynn drew her fingers over the rim of her cup. “I...I tend to have an overactive imagination—which helps me in drawing the strip—but it also takes me on flights of fancy.”
“Looked like a nice trip.”
For a moment her eyes met his. Even with her glasses between them he could see a new awareness—one he realized he shouldn’t be seeing; one that neither of them should be feeling.
Her smile was a quick, darting thing, a brief quiver. “I think Lancelot deserves a treat, don’t you?” Blindly she turned in the dog’s direction. “How about a sandwich, boy?”
Lancelot politely accepted the offer, gently taking part of the tiny sandwich she tore in half.
Watching her jittery movements, Matt wondered if her thoughts had also taken an unexpected turn. He shook his head. That was impossible. She’d just told him how much she loved Gregory, had fiercely defended their unusual elopement. He must have imagined that glint in her eye. It was too bad he hadn’t imagined his own.
 
MIRANDA AND BRYNN DUG through the trunks in the attic, searching for costume ideas for the upcoming Octoberfest
“Sorry I roped you into this.” Miranda spoke from the bottom of an ancient steamer trunk, her voice muffled. “But this morning’s telegram about Gregory put me in a good mood. I know there’s not any
new
news, but he’s alive and they’ve convinced Matt not to go off half-cocked—at least for now.”
Brynn nodded. “That’s how I felt and maybe next time there’ll be real news. I just wish I could
do
something.”
Miranda shook out an ostrich feather duster. “You are.”
Brynn picked up a dusty book. “This isn’t exactly what I meant, but actually, I like doing this. It’s kind of fun. We never had an attic. It’s like a treasure trove.”
Miranda. laughed. “Or a junk pile.” She pulled out another bowler hat and set it aside, muttering. “Can’t ever have enough of these.” Then she glanced at Brynn. “Never had an attic, did you?”
“No. We always lived in apartments. That’s why I like my place in Salt Lake. Since it’s a converted house it’s not so much like an apartment.”
“Most young people like slick high-rises. Gregory does. So whose place were you planning to settle in?”
Brynn scrabbled for an answer. This was getting to be a difficult game. “Well, we hadn’t exactly decided yet. Maybe neither place,” she fabricated. “A new place that’s both of ours.”
BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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