Their Wicked Wedding (15 page)

“Is this some kind of prank?” I say. “You know how much I hate these things.” But I know Calder hates pranks, too. He’ll torture me with little games any day of the week, but he doesn’t play childish jokes or get a kick out of trying to scare me.

“Calder?” I’m ashamed by the slight quaver in my voice. With every passing moment, I’m doubting more and more that the man I saw through the window was him. You’d think I’d know my own fiancé, even at that distance, but maybe not.

Am I going crazy? Was there even anyone out here at all? Or am I just exhausted and hallucinating?

The glare of sunlight off of metal catches my eye, and when I look up I see flashes of a car coming toward the house, blinking in and out between the great oak trees that line the driveway.

Calder’s car.

I take one final look over my shoulder and then break into a run, darting across the grounds and around the house toward the spot where we park the cars. He’s already halfway to the house by the time I reach him. The garment bag with his tux is draped over one arm and he has several bags in his other hand. His eyes widen in alarm when he sees me darting toward him.

“What’s wrong?” he says, practically running the last few steps toward me.

I stumble to a stop in front of him, out of breath. When I started running, I only wanted to get as far away from the maze as fast as possible. Now that I’m here next to Calder, I don’t know what to say. What do I tell him?
Oh, I thought I saw you out in the garden, but it turns out it wasn’t you!
Or better yet,
I might be going insane and seeing random men out by the maze!

But Calder cuts in before I can decide what to say.

“Are you hurt?” he asks me, his gaze running over my body. “Or is it Louisa?”

Lou.
He doesn’t know about what’s happened with her yet.

“She was having abdominal pain,” I tell him. “Ward got worried and took her to the doctor.”

And suddenly Calder looks worried, too. “When did they leave? She’s not having the baby yet, is she?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. She said she was fine, but Ward insisted she go to the doctor.”

“The doctor? He should have taken her to the ER!”

“I know,” I say, placing my hand on his arm. “That’s what he wanted to do, but she was being stubborn. I’m sure he’ll do what’s best for her.”

“He better.” There are storm clouds in Calder’s eyes. “How long have they been gone?”

“Maybe just under an hour.”

He’s already pulling his phone out of his pocket. But I snatch it out of his hand before he can dial.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Ward can handle this,” I tell him.

“I have some serious doubts about that.”

“If you don’t trust him, then trust me,” I say. “
I
trust him. I know you’re not used to letting other people manage things, but believe me, that man will do anything to keep Lou safe. And I think you know that.”

His dark eyes bore into mine, and I can see him fighting back the urge to argue. Finally, he gives me a curt nod. “Very well.”

Convinced that he’s not about to go charging after them, I hand him back his phone. But I wait until his back is turned to smile. It’s actually really sweet how protective he is of his little sister. I don’t envy Ward in this whole situation, but from where I’m standing… Calder’s behavior is actually kind of a turn-on.

Not that I can do much about that right now, though.
I
might be eager to jump in the sack after that little display of familial concern, but I suspect Calder’s mind is elsewhere. I’m also fairly certain this is a bad time to discuss the possibility that I
might
have seen a reporter out in the gardens. I don’t want Calder to lose his shit and go on a rampage through the maze.

No, I’ll talk to Ward and Lou about some security measures once they’re back and we know everything is okay. For now, there’s nothing for any reporter or paparazzo to see, no scandals to witness or exclusive photographs to capture. As long as we handle this before the wedding, we should be okay. We can always figure things out in the morning.

Just in case, though, I make sure to lock and bolt the door behind us when we go inside.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CALDER

Lily tells me I owe Louisa’s man an apology.

I, on the other hand, say that there’s nothing wrong with expressing normal brotherly concern, and I refuse to apologize for questioning the methods of a man who hasn’t married the woman carrying his child. I have every reason to doubt him.

But I’ll give credit where credit is due—Ward has been handling this situation well, at least since he returned with Louisa last night. Both mother and child are fine, but the doctor recommended she take it easy for a few days, and Ward has insisted that she stay in bed this morning. I even saw him take breakfast up to her earlier.

Maybe there’s a good man hiding beneath that grubby exterior after all.

But that doesn’t mean I owe him an apology.

Besides, I have other things to handle today, like helping greet our guests. They’ve been arriving since noon, and we’ve been helping them get settled in their rooms. Lily’s currently leading her coworker Morgan and her husband up to their suite, so when a silver sedan pulls up in front of the house, I go out to welcome them.

When I get closer to the car, I see that it has a “Frazer Center for the Arts” bumper sticker. Ah, so Lily’s father has finally arrived.

“David,” I say, holding out my hand to the man as he climbs out of the car. “Welcome. I hope your drive was pleasant.”

He clasps my hand and smiles. “Pleasant as it could have been.”

David Frazer and I have come to a friendly peace, though I’m fairly certain he hasn’t quite forgiven me for the way things began between me and his daughter. Still, we’ve both done our best to get along, for Lily’s sake, and I know he’s slowly but surely beginning to accept me as his son-in-law.

His date, on the other hand, requires no such careful treatment. David has been seeing Ms. Regina Lankford for several months now, and Lily and I have had dinner with them on several occasions. Regina seemed to love me from the start—at least if her friendliness is any indication.

“Regina,” I say, turning toward her and offering my hand.

“Oh, don’t you try that with me,” she says, slapping my hand away. “You can’t escape a hug that easily.”

Before I have the chance to stop her, she has thrown her arms around me and is squeezing me so tightly that I could probably count the pearls on the necklace trapped between us. Her titian hair smells strongly of strawberries. I abide the hug, even going so far as to place my arms around her in return. After all, she might be family too someday. When she finally pulls away, she manages to sneak a wet kiss on my cheek before releasing me.

“My, but you get handsomer every day,” she says, her eyes bright. “That Lily’s a lucky girl.” She hooks her arm through David’s and leans toward me conspiratorially. “I am too, but don’t tell him. He might get a big head.”

David shakes his head in response, but I notice his cheeks have reddened at his lady’s compliment.

“But my, look at this place!” says Regina. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but they just don’t do it justice, do they? It’s like a castle.”

“I’m sure we can arrange a tour later,” I say.

Her eyes grow three sizes. “Oh, I’d love that! Won’t that be wonderful, David?” She gives a little tug on his arm. But before he can answer her question, she’s waving her free hand in the air. “Oh, look! It’s Lily!”

Sure enough, when I turn I see Lily coming toward us down the steps from the house. She’s wearing a dark blue dress today, one of my favorites. I’ve always loved the way it clings to her thighs. Memories of these last couple of nights burn through my blood, and I’m beginning to hope that she and I might have the chance to sneak off for a little while this afternoon. I don’t think I can wait until tonight for another taste of her.

She must be thinking the same thing, because her eyes take on a special light when our gazes meet. She smiles at me as if we share a secret, and considering some of the things I did to her last night, I suppose we do. I mean to share a few more secrets with her before this day is over.

When she reaches us, however, she turns her attention to our guests.

“Dad,” she says, throwing herself into his arms. It hasn’t even been a week since she’s seen him last—after all, they work together at the Frazer Center—but this is about more than time or distance. Tomorrow, she’ll no longer bear his name. She’ll bear mine. Symbolically, she’ll no longer be David Frazer’s daughter, but rather Calder Cunningham’s wife. My wife. Just thinking those words sends a rush of pride through me, and it takes all of my restraint not to reach out and take her into my arms right here.

When she pulls away from her father, there are tears in her eyes, but she laughs as she flicks them away.

“Regina,” she says, turning to the other woman. “So good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see you, too, darling.” They squeeze each other for a moment—though I dare say Lily gets off much easier than I did. She manages to escape without a kiss on the cheek.

“Come on,” Lily says. “Let’s get your bags. I’ll show you to your room.”

When David and Regina go to the trunk to remove their suitcases, Lily turns to me. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me quickly but fiercely on the lips.

“I love you,” she says, her voice low. “I can’t remember if I’ve told you that yet today.”

“I love you, too,” I tell her. I slide my hands across her lower back. I need to get her alone soon.

But before I can get too many ideas, she’s slipped out of my grip again and skipped over to her father and Regina.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, taking Regina’s suitcase.

As soon as their backs are turned, I adjust my pants. As much as I’ll enjoy seeing all of our guests, it’s going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

Our guests continue to arrive over the next several hours. There aren’t many, I suppose, as far as weddings go—there will only be about thirty people in attendance—but I still find myself wishing for that time alone with Lily. We suddenly have far too many friends, coworkers, and family members to entertain.

But when a large white catering van pulls down the driveway, I find my mood lifting.

Martin is here.

I hurry down the front steps to greet him, surprising even myself with my enthusiasm. But I’m not ashamed to admit it—I’m excited to see the man who served as my family’s private chef for most of my life. Martin is roughly my father’s age—or the age my father would have been, if he were still alive—but he’s as energetic as ever. He insisted on catering the entire weekend for us, even when
I
insisted that I wanted him there as a
guest
, not a vendor. But Martin has always been most comfortable in his kitchen, and there’s no arguing with the man. I asked him once, back in those first few weeks after my father’s death, if he was considering retirement. But Martin told me that a true chef never retires. And sure enough, he’s been happily running the restaurant Ventine’s ever since.

“However will Ventine’s survive without you this weekend?” I say, clapping him on the back.

“They’ll manage, I’m sure,” he says, laughing. He takes me by the shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, getting a good look at me, and I humor him, even though it’s not like he doesn’t see me every other week when Lily and I dine at his restaurant.

“You look well,” he says with a smile. “As you should. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on that girl that she was the one for you.”

He’s told me that many times since that first night when he served me and Lily dinner here at the estate. I wonder what he saw that made him so sure, because by my own recollection Lily still hated me at that point. But here we are, so I suppose Martin was right after all.

“I’m going to get everything set up,” he says, jerking his thumb at the half dozen members of his crew who are already unloading the contents of the van onto carts.

“I’ll come with you,” I say. “Assuming I won’t be underfoot. I have a feeling this might be our only opportunity to chat this weekend.”

Martin laughs. “Right you are, I suspect. This might be your last chance to
breathe
this weekend. Just remind yourself during the chaos that it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

I help him and his crew transport their equipment and supplies down to the kitchen, and Martin regales me with stories from Ventine’s. He always did have an excellent sense of humor, and soon he has me laughing as well.

“But don’t think you’re getting away from me without answering a few questions,” he says finally. “Tell me, how is the family? Little Lou is due soon, isn’t she? I still have trouble believing it. In my head she’s still a little squirt.”

I force myself to smile. “She’s doing fine. We had a bit of a scare yesterday, but the doctor said she’s just been pushing herself too hard.”

Martin’s eyebrow rises. “It’s nothing serious, I hope? She’s okay?”

“Everything’s all right. She’s on strict orders to spend the day in bed, though, so you probably won’t see her until later.”

He nods, apparently understanding. “Well, it’s good that she has people to look out for her. I assume she’s well enough otherwise? She’s happy?”

In spite of some of my reservations about the way she and Ward have decided to handle their relationship, I’m forced to nod.

“She’s happy,” I say. “But
I
will be happier when those two are married.”

“I suspect you will. But I’m not sure your happiness is the priority in their case. If they’re not married, I’m sure they have their reasons. And they might be very important reasons.”

“What’s not important about ensuring that their baby has a father? And a home?”

“Ah, is that what this is about? This place?” Martin’s eyes drift upward, as if indicating the entire house above us.

“It’s not about the estate,” I insist. “It’s about my sister and her security.”

“Not every relationship is the same,” he counters. “If Lou is happy, that’s the important thing, right?”

I exhale. “Perhaps.”

“Not perhaps.” Martin smiles. “Tell me, has it given you any ideas? Are you and Lily planning to have kids of your own soon?”

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, old man,” I say. “The wedding hasn’t even officially started.”

“But you’ve discussed it?” He smiles at me. “And forgive an ‘old man’, but you must understand that I’ve spent most of my life working for this family. Is it really a wonder that I’m happy to see it continue, especially after everything that’s happened these past couple of years? That I’m looking forward to seeing little Cunningham children again? It’s been too long since these halls were filled with laughter.”

I don’t remind him that none of
my
children will be laughing in these halls—except, I suppose, on the occasions where Lily and I are once again the guests of my sister and Ward Brannon. But Martin’s question has reminded me of another issue.

I’ve been relatively successful at keeping my mind off of the Taran Harker issue these past few days. When my phone buzzed in my pocket earlier, I ignored it, even though I suspected it was Mr. Harker calling me once again. He’s called me four times in the past two days and left me as many messages. I’ve deleted all of them without listening. I won’t tolerate threats from anyone. But I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing. My mind keeps going back to that photo of the dark-haired baby.

“Martin,” I say, “you probably knew my father better than anyone, wouldn’t you say?”

Both of his white eyebrows go up. “I knew him well, yes. Hard not to when you cook three meals a day for someone.”

“So you know how he was with my mother,” I say.

Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he nods. “They were an affectionate pair, the two of them. Wish you could’ve seen it.” He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “You and Lily remind me of them. You look at each other the same way they did.”

I’m not sure whether that makes me feel better or worse.

“So my father never… you never knew him to stray, did you?”

A look of shock crosses Martin’s face. “You’re asking if he cheated? Wait—” His voice drops. “Have you cheated on Lily?”

“No! God, no.” The very thought is repulsive. I rush on, trying to rectify whatever conclusions Martin is forming right now. “I was approached by a man named Taran Harker. He claims to be my father’s son. According to the timeline he suggests, if he’s telling the truth, my father would have had to have been unfaithful.”

Now Martin is frowning. “Does this man have proof?”

I certainly didn’t give Mr. Harker any time to show me his “proof,” if indeed there is any. Maybe I should have. But I can’t change the past.

“I hired a private detective to look into the matter,” I say. “And I have one of my father’s old journals from around that time, but I’m not sure how much useful information it contains.” I think of the journal entry I have yet to finish reading, but even that might ultimately be inconclusive. “I’m sure we won’t be able to prove anything one way or another without a DNA test.”