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After a brief exchange of greetings, Reverend Pattersby inquired, with an avidly interested glance at each of them, “Shall we begin?”
“Please.” Never in her life had Cat been so eager to get something over with as she was this. Anything to end this uneven thudding of her heart.
The minister opened his book, intoning the familiar words, “Dearly beloved…”
Facing him, with Logan standing close enough that their arms brushed, Cat knew why a bride normally carried a bouquet. It gave her something to do with her hands.
The problem was eliminated a moment later as her father stepped forward, asserting his right to give her in marriage and placing her hand in Logan’s, The warm, solid strength of Logan’s easy grip ignited new quivers of awareness.
When it came time to recite her vows, Cat made the mistake of looking up. “I, Cathleen Elizabeth Calder”—his compelling gray eyes wouldn’t let her look away—“take thee, Logan Andrew Echohawk…”
She hated the breathy quality of her voice, the suggestion of emotion in it. She blamed it on nerves and the strain of the moment. “…forsaking all others, till death do us part,” she finished and saw the quick, hard gleam of satisfaction darken his eyes.
It was his turn now, and his voice was strong with conviction as he made his vows to her. She could almost believe that he meant every word of them.
“Will there be an exchange of rings?” Reverend Pattersby asked in a soft undertone.
“Yes.” Logan produced a matching pair of plain gold bands from his suit pocket.
Cat stiffened in instant protest. More vows—she didn’t want to make any more meaningless vows. Tense with anger, she went through all the motions and said all the right words, then bowed her head in prayer, relieved that it was nearly finished.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the minister proclaimed, then added the usual encouragement, “You may kiss the bride.”
Trained to observe every small, subtle shift of expressions, Logan saw the flicker of resentment in Cat’s eyes before she moved to kiss him. He felt the cool impersonal brush of her closed lips and discovered a new meaning for the term lip service. Irritated by it, he cupped his hand behind her neck, not letting her draw back, and brought his mouth against hers with warm, nuzzling pressure.
Her lips softened under the coaxing stimulation of kiss. It was the response he’d been seeking. But he found he wanted more than that.
Before he could take the kiss deeper, the minister coughed delicately. Logan lifted his head and saw with satisfaction the dazed light in her eyes. Abruptly she turned her head from him, but not before he saw the glimmer of fear that replaced that look.
It stopped him. Fear was the last emotion he wanted to arouse in her.
During the brief, and slightly awkward, round of congratulations that followed, Logan spotted Quint, hanging back from the group. He called him forward and lifted him into his arms.
“Are we a family now?” Quint asked.
“We sure are,” Logan replied.
“Is that why you kissed her?”
Cat stiffened beside him. His glance slid over her, noting the smoothness of her expression. “It’s one of the reasons,” Logan replied.
As soon as the license was signed and witnessed, a light supper was served in the dining room. Reverend Pattersby did full justice to the fare that was offered, which was more than Cat was able to do. To her relief, he refused an after-dinner cup of coffee, insisting that he needed to be on his way. Seizing the excuse to escape, Cat offered to accompany him to the door. The quick lift of his eyebrow advised her that Reverend Pattersby regarded it as a highly unusual thing for a bride to do. The eyebrow fell when Logan came up behind her, seconding the offer.
Together they walked him to the door. Closing it behind him, Cat turned, sliding a glance off Logan. “At least, that’s over.”
He nodded a silent agreement. “Where are your suitcases? I might as well get them loaded in the truck.”
“My suitcases?” she repeated, then sighed in irritation. “Don’t you think a honeymoon is carrying this farce a little too far?”
“It would be, but that wasn’t my intention.” His gaze narrowed on her in sudden suspicion. “You haven’t packed, have you?”
“Why should I?” she countered.
“Because we’ll be going home shortly.”
“Home,” she echoed in shock. Even when she realized the meaning of his words, she resisted it. “This is home. I’ve already fixed up one of the guest rooms for you—”
“No.”
