Their Wicked Wedding (8 page)

She doesn’t wait for me to respond, just marches down the stairs. And frankly, I don’t know what to say.

Well, I know what she wants me to say. But the words die in my throat.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LILY

I don’t look back. I stride down the steps and out the door without even a glance over my shoulder to see if he follows.

He doesn’t.

Only when I’m outside do I break into a run. My feet crunch over the gravel paths through the gardens. The cool night air whips at my face. I’m sure there are garden lamps out here somewhere, but no one bothered to turn them on tonight. My only light is that of the moon, but it’s enough to get me across the grounds to the hedge maze.

I pause next to the dark, high walls of the maze. The hedges rustle in the breeze, but otherwise there’s no sound. No footsteps behind me. No one calling my name, asking me to come back to the house and talk things out like two rational adults.

I’m not sure when I started crying, but there are tears on my cheeks. Am I overreacting? Completely misreading Calder? I remind myself of Lou’s words:
People deal with that stress in different ways.
But it’s not wedding stress that’s bothering Calder. I know it isn’t. What is he afraid to tell me?

Without another look back at the house, I step into the maze.

What drew me here, of all places, I can’t say. But there’s something soothing about the great walls of green all around me, something comforting in the idea of losing myself in here for a little while. I keep one hand against the living wall as I walk deeper into the labyrinth.

Why is he being so strange?
The question comes back to me again and again. Calder’s secrecy isn’t that of a man planning a surprise for his future wife. And in spite of what Lou said, I can’t bring myself to believe that it’s just nerves, either. He’s actively keeping secrets. And I can’t stand it. This isn’t how things are supposed to be between us.

This isn’t the first time we’ve had trust issues, but I thought we were past all of that. I thought we were in a better place—one where he didn’t try to hide his true feelings. How am I supposed to marry someone who won’t communicate with me? Emotion rushes through me, and I lurch to a stop. My fingers grip at the leaves of the wall as I sink down to my knees, the tears overtaking me.

This isn’t us. This isn’t how we’re supposed to be…

We’ve been through so much together. We’ve worked through family issues and misunderstandings. We’ve learned to listen to each other, to make room for patience and communication.

Am I in the wrong?
Should I just trust him when he tells me that everything is fine? Turn a blind eye to the truth I see written in his face? Respect his wishes to leave it alone and let him come to me when he’s ready? I know Calder. He’s as stubborn as I am, and sometimes he lets his pride get in the way of his sense. He’s never liked to ask for help. Has he failed to realize that his pain hurts me as deeply as my own? I can’t bear to see him suffering, to watch him silently fight some secret battle by himself. He suggested we elope. After everything he’s said these past few months about the importance of sharing our wedding day with family. I thought this was what he wanted—to share these traditions and to celebrate our new lives with those we hold dear. Something has changed in him this week, and I don’t know what. Or why.

I have to be patient. I have to trust him.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I say those things to myself. There’s still a knot in my stomach. And the tears don’t stop.

Slowly, I drag myself to my feet. I force myself to keep walking, to keep going deeper into the maze. It doesn’t matter where I end up. I just need to keep moving before I completely fall apart. I wander for some time, stumbling through the maze until I’m thoroughly lost. The March air is growing chillier by the minute, and my tears have gone cold on my cheeks, but I just wrap my arms around myself and press on. I’m not ready to go back. I don’t think I can face Calder right now or I might say something I’ll regret.

My inner thighs are still wet from Calder’s attentions on the stairs. Any other time, that slick evidence of our erotic encounter would make me warm from head to toe, but right now, it only makes me feel colder. In my mind, I hear his entreaties:
Spend the night with me.
He was practically begging me. Part of me wishes I’d given in to him, but a greater part can’t get over how
wrong
everything was. That’s exactly the word—
wrong.
For all the hunger in his touch, for all the passion in his tongue, it was wrong, wrong,
wrong.

I stop again. My tears have started to dry, and now I feel hollow and tired. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to get back out of the maze.

And I’m not sure I care.

My feet keep moving. There’s nothing else to do out here. After a while, I find my way to a small courtyard—or clearing, or whatever you call the open places in a maze like this. All I know is that the hedge walls have fallen back to reveal a round patch of ground featuring a small bench and a fountain shaped to look like a large, leaping fish. I’ve been to the center of the maze before, but this space is smaller, cozier.

I walk over to the edge of the fountain. It’s not running—it’s too early in the year for that—but there are a couple of inches of water in the bottom of the basin. Tiny leaves from the neighboring hedges float on the surface.

Something about this place calms me a little. I go over to the bench and sink down. My hands rise to my face, and I wipe any remaining wetness from my cheeks, then lean back.

I have to trust him.
I don’t want to go into this marriage questioning every word out of Calder’s mouth. At the end of the day, I have a choice: to take him at his word, or to argue with him every step of the way.

I just wish he’d make it a little easier on me.

I close my eyes and listen to the wind moving through the maze. It makes the hedges whisper against each other, and it’s strangely comforting, being around the soft, normal sounds of nature on a night like this. I place my hands on either side of me on the bench, spreading my fingers against the cool stone and thinking of the first time I was in this maze. It was… well… like a dream. A beautiful, romantic, deliciously wicked dream, and I let myself sink into the memory. My toes curl as I remember the way Calder held me, the way he kissed me, the sweet things he murmured into my ear after we made love.

In spite of everything, I find myself smiling. Even if Calder’s being a stubborn ass, he still gets my blood going. If he hadn’t surprised me back there on the stairs by suggesting we elope, I might even now be naked in his bed. Sleeping in separate rooms was never about torturing him—though admittedly, I still find some amusement in that—but about making our wedding even more special. But I should have known better. Calder knows me too well, and he’s an expert at seduction.

I’m lost
, I realize.
Whatever he does, whatever he’s hiding from me, it doesn’t matter. I’m too far gone. I’ll still love him with my entire heart.

I almost laugh out loud. Calder has me wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? One minute he has me panting with need for him, the next he has me sobbing in the garden. And no matter what happens, it always comes back to this: I want no other man. For every tear I’ve shed over him, he’s brought me a hundred times that in happiness. I’m his completely.

I lie back so I can look up at the stars. There’s something about this place. Not just the maze—though this labyrinth certainly holds its own special sort of power—but the entire estate. It’s in Calder’s blood. And Lou’s. And Ward’s, from what I’ve seen. And I’m beginning to think it’s in mine, too. It’s become a part of me in a way I can’t explain.

It’s part of my own fairy tale. And though my “happily ever after” is probably a little more complicated than most, I wouldn’t change a thing.

And with that thought, I lift my eyes and lose myself in the stars.

* * *

When I wake, it’s still dark.

I don’t know what time it is, and for a minute I don’t even remember where I am. I’m first aware of the stiffness in my back, and when I try to roll over and change positions, my neck cracks—and then I find myself falling forward. I land with a
thud
face down on the ground beneath the bench.

I groan. There’s gravel digging into my cheek and knees, and one of my hands is twisted awkwardly beneath my body. I yank it free and roll over onto my back. The moon is still high overhead. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but it couldn’t have been for that long. I wonder what woke me.

The answer to that comes quickly—in the form of a sound from the top of the courtyard. A footstep. The scuff of a shoe against the ground. I quickly scramble up to my knees.

“Calder?” I say, my heart leaping. He followed me after all.

But there’s no sound from the figure at the head of the courtyard. If there’s even a figure there at all. One moment I think I see someone, but when I squint, the shape is gone.

“Hello?” I say. “Anyone there?”

There’s no response. I get up—wincing at the stiffness in my neck and back—and walk to the place where I heard the footstep—but a quick search reveals that I’m completely alone. Maybe I’m more exhausted than I thought. There’s absolutely no one here but me.

I shiver, and this time it’s not from the cold. Maybe it’s time to go back to the house. I start back down the path, peering into the shadows on either side of me as I go, half expecting someone to leap out at me at any second. I see no one, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched, that there’s someone—or something—in here with me.

Twenty minutes later, I still haven’t found the entrance of the maze, and I start to get more nervous. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to wander aimlessly through this labyrinth. If I had my cell phone on me, I could just call for help, but I left it in my bedroom when I went down to dinner. Now I’m going to be stuck out here all night. Panic rises in my chest, but I fight it down. Freaking out won’t help anything. And that feeling of paranoia, that prickling sensation that I’m being watched—well, that’s just my imagination. This is just a maze. There aren’t any monsters out here.

The hedges are too high for me to see anything over the top. But I keep my eyes up anyway, just in case. My feet keep trying to break into a run, but I know that the moment I allow myself to give in to the nervousness is the moment I lose the last of my wits.

What’s wrong with you, Lily? There’s no one here but you.

Still, I can’t help myself but calling one more time, “Calder? Are you here?”

There’s no answer. I wrap my arms around my chest and keep going. And then my spirits lift—there, just ahead, the hedges part. I run forward, eager for freedom.

And then my heart sinks again. I haven’t found the exit. Instead, I’ve stumbled back into the same courtyard where I was before. And I swear, the stone fish on the fountain seems to be laughing at me.

Something moves behind me.

I jump, spinning and swinging my arm as if I might be able to defend myself against whoever it is with my bare hands. But my fist meets nothing but air. There’s no one there.

I close my eyes.
Deep breaths, Lily. You’re just exhausted. And walking in circles. There’s no reason to panic.

When my heartbeat has slowed to normal again, I open my eyes. I’m still alone, just as I’ve been this entire time. And I have two choices: to give up and resign myself to spending the night out here, or to keep searching for the exit.

It’s too cold to sit still, so I choose the second option.

I don’t know how long I wander. All I know is that I’m achy and exhausted and cold and scared. And I want Calder. I want to throw myself into his arms and let him warm and comfort me. I want to make up with him, to put our stupid argument behind us. Maybe he’s being stubborn and secretive, but I love him, and at the end of the day, if I have to make the choice—I’m going to trust him.

Assuming I find a way out of this fucking maze.

My feet are sore and my body is stiff. My fingers are numb from cold and my nose has started to drip from the chill. But I keep walking.

And then, just when I’m starting to give up hope again, I see it—a hazy bit of light above the top of one of the hedges. My steps quicken as I move toward it. I follow the hedge, keeping my eyes on the light. It’s dim, diffused, but I recognize it now for what it is—light pollution from the house. It’s not much, but out here at the estate, twenty minutes from Barberville or any other town, even the light from a couple of windows is noticeable. I keep the light in my sight and move toward it as much as I can, and then there—the exit looms in front of me. This time there’s no mistaking it. I can see the bare bushes of the rose garden on the other side.

I’m too exhausted to run toward it, but my feet are definitely lighter as I finally escape. A few minutes later, I’m back inside the warmth and safety of the house.

And there’s only one person I want to see right now.

I head straight to Calder’s room. I pause only briefly at his door, just long enough to run a hand through my hair. If I’m going to seduce forgiveness from my fiancé, I’d rather not look like I just spent a couple of hours running frantically through a maze like I had a murderer after me—however close to the truth that might be.