Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
>
Monday Puzzler 12/05
date
newest »
newest »
Mod
Mod
Mod
Mod
The Devil Wears Tartan by Karen Ranney
Mod
Her gaze was on the front of the chapel, and he knew when she saw him. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and her footsteps slowed.
His solicitor had said she was pretty.
She wasn't.
His bride was radiant. Glorious. Perfect. There was color to her face, a flush that lent her pearlized skin a soft glow. Her auburn hair was riotous around her shoulders, a mass of tendrils held back from her face with tortoise shell combs. She looked like a Florentine Venus.
No, she was more than pretty. She was crafted alabaster and porcelain, with delicate pink lips and finely arched brows. He'd never actually thought about a woman's nose before, but hers was perfect. That chin was remarkably firm, however, hinting at stubbornness.
What color were her eyes? Surely not brown. They had to be some magnificent color to match her face.
Dear God, they were bluish green, the color of Bahamian seas.
He took a step forward and then stopped himself. He should remain here besides the alter and wait for her to travel to him. Wasn't that the way these ceremonies went? The bride walked slowly past friends and family, clad in her pristine white dress with its acres and acres of lace, demonstrating her courageous sacrifice to the monster.
He realized he didn't want to wait, and before his uncle could stop him, Hero took the two steps down to the aisle and advanced on Heroine.
She halted in the middle of the aisle, ten steps or so from the alter. She didn't flinch when he approached her. Nor did she look away.
Brave girl.
When he was close enough that their conversation couldn't be overheard, he spoke to her.
"You look terrified," he said.
Her brows drew together, but she didn't comment. Fascinated, he continued to stare at her. After a moment, he was surprised to see her blush. The faint color, oddly enough, detracted from her appearance rather than adding to it.
"You should never blush," he said.
She looked startled at his comment. "I normally do not. But then, I'm rarely married."
"Are you afraid?"
"A little," she admitted.
"Of me? Or marriage?"
She seemed to consider the question and as she did, he came to her side, turned, and extended his arm.
"Have you noticed that the entire chapel is filled with people staring at us as if we've lost our minds?" he asked.
Heroine smiled. "I suspect they're waiting for me to turn around and run down the aisle."
She placed her small bouquet of heather and white roses in her right hand, placed her left hand on his arm.
"Are you often given to such displays?"
"As often as I am married," she said.
How very odd that he felt like smiling.
She turned her head and regarded him somberly. "Of you, I think," she said, answering his earlier question. "And marriage. But more of you. You're called Devil, you know. Why?"
She was brave. No one else had ever come out and asked him that question, even though he was sure they thought it.
He wanted to reassure her, keep her with him somehow, which meant he wouldn't give her the whole truth.
"Why does anyone get a reputation? People are curious, and when they can't find anything to say, the invent stories."
In silence she considered him. He wondered what she thought, and then realized that such speculation was unwise. Did he really want to know what she thought of him?
Finally she spoke. "No one told me you were so handsome," she said. "They shouldn't call you Devil, unless you're like Lucifer. Are you as evil?"
Yes. That wasn't an answer he had any intention of giving her. Instead he only smiled and led her to the alter and her fate.