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One of Christine’s eyes opened a crack. “Intimidating?”
“He’s very…male.”
“Ah.”
“Eloquent comment.”
“It covered a lot of ground. What did you expect at—” she stopped to peer at her watch “—one o’clock in the morning? Shakespearean sonnets?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock here.”
“My body may be here, but my spirit is on Eastern Daylight Time. Good night, or good morning, whichever the case may be.”
Laughing, Madelyn let Christine crash in peace. She got ready for bed herself, then lay awake until almost dawn, both mind and body tense.
THE DRESS SHE had bought for the wedding was old-fashioned in design, almost to her ankles, with eyelet lace around the hem and neckline. She pinned up her hair in a modified Gibson girl, and put on white lace hosiery and wh
ite shoes. Even though it was just going to be a civil ceremony, she was determined to look like a bride. Now that the day had actually arrived she felt calm, and her hands were steady as she applied her makeup. Maybe she had finally gotten too tired for nervousness.
“You look gorgeous,” said Christine, who looked pretty good herself in an ice-blue dress that did wonders for her olive complexion. “Cool and old-fashioned and fragile.”
Fragile was a word Madelyn had never used to describe herself, and she turned to Christine in disbelief.
“I didn’t say you were fragile, I said you looked fragile, which is just the way you’re supposed to look on your wedding day.”
“You have some interesting ideas. I know the something borrowed, something blue routine, but I always thought a bride was supposed to look radiant, not fragile.”
“Pooh. Radiance is easy. Just a few whisks with a blusher brush. Fragile is much harder to achieve. I’ll bet you stayed up nights perfecting it.”
Madelyn sighed and looked at herself in the mirror again. “I didn’t think it showed.”
“Did you sleep any?”
“An hour or so.”
“It shows.”
When Reese knocked on the door, Madelyn froze. She knew it was Reese, and not Robert. Her heart began that slow, heavy beat as she crossed the room to open the door.
Reese looked down at her, his expression shadowed by his gray dress Stetson. With his boots on he stood over six-four, closer to six-five, and he filled the doorway. Behind her Madelyn heard Christine gasp, but Reese didn’t even glance at her; he kept his eyes on Madelyn. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m completely packed.”
“I’ll put your suitcases in the car.”
He was wearing a charcoal pin-striped suit with a spotlessly white shirt. Madelyn recognized both the cut and fabric as being expensive, and knew this must be a suit he’d had before his divorce. He was breathtaking in it. She glanced at Christine, who still wasn’t breathing.
“Christine, this is Reese Duncan. Reese, my best friend, Christine Rizzotto.”
Reese gave Christine a half smile and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
She was still ogling him, but she managed a weak, “And you, Mr. Duncan.”
He picked up two of Madelyn’s suitcases, nodded to Christine, and carried them out. Christine’s breath escaped her with a whoosh. “That man is…is potent,” she half gasped. “Now I understand.”
Madelyn knew how she felt, and fingered the string of pearls around her neck. The nervousness was coming back.
Robert’s pale eyes were cool when he was introduced to Reese, which bothered Reese not at all. They were polite to each other. Madelyn hadn’t hoped for anything more. Their personalities were both too strong to allow for easy companionship.
