Dani Wade – A Bride's Tangled Vows (страница 1)
âAiden?â
The sudden silence must have become too much for her, because Christina moved forward as if to continue down the stairs.
The polite thing would have been to step aside, but the ache to feel that body against his once more kept him perversely still. She slowed within a hairâs breadth, tension mounting once more. âAiden?â
âSo youâre really willing to do this?â he asked, almost holding his breath as he awaited her answer. What delicious torture to spend the next year with this woman and keep his hands to himself. Could he?
âI donât know. I donât think I can, you know, share a bed with you.â
The way her voice trailed off told him how very uncomfortable she was, which only awakened images of making her very comfortable in a bed for two.
Maybe he could find a way to make this work.
* * *
A Brideâs Tangled Vows is part of the Mill Town Millionaires series.
A Brideâs
Tangled Vows
Dani Wade
DANI WADE astonished her local librarians as a teenager when she carried home ten books every weekâand actually read them all. Now she writes her own characters, who clamor for attention in the midst of the chaos that is her life. Residing in the southern United States with a husband, two kids, two dogs and one grumpy cat, she stays busy until she can closet herself away with her characters once more.
To the late Beverly Bartonâyou gave freely of your encouragement and advice the first time you read this story, and told me one day my time would come. Now that itâs here, I wish I could share it with you. But I know your gorgeous smile is lighting up heaven. I look forward to seeing you again â¦
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Extract
Aiden Blackstone suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the afternoon thunderstorm raging all around him. For a moment, he remained immobile, staring at the elaborate scrolls carved into the heavy oak door before him. A door heâd promised himself heâd never pass through againâat least, not while his grandfather was alive.
I should have come back here, Mother, only to see you.
But heâd sworn never to let himself be locked inside the walls of Blackstone Manor again. Heâd thought he had all the time he would need to make his absence up to his mother. In his youthful ignorance, he hadnât realized everything heâd be giving up to uphold his vow. Now he was back to honor another vowâa promise to see that his mother was taken care of.
The thought had his stomach roiling. Shaking it off, he reached for the old-fashioned iron knocker shaped like a bearâs head. The cab had already left. On a day plagued by steamy, ferocious southern thunderstorms, he certainly wouldnât be walking the ten miles back to Black Hills, no matter how much he dreaded this visit. His nausea eased as he reminded himself that he wouldnât be here for longâonly as long as necessary.
Knocking again, he listened intently for footsteps on the other side of the door. It wasnât really home if you had to wait for someone to answer. Heâd walked away with the surety that only comes with untried youth. Now he returned a different man, a success on his own terms. He just wouldnât have the satisfaction of rubbing his grandfatherâs nose in it.
Because James Blackstone was dead.
The knob rattled, then the door swung inward with a deep creak. A tall man, his posture still strong despite the gray hair disappearing from his head, blinked several times as if not sure his aging eyes were trustworthy. Though heâd left his childhood home on his eighteenth birthday, Aiden recognized Nolen, the family butler.
âAh, Master Aiden, weâve been expecting you,â the older man said.
âThank you,â Aiden returned with polite sincerity, stepping closer to look into the butlerâs faded blue eyes. Lightning cracked nearby and thunder almost immediately boomed with wall-rattling force, the storm a reflection of the upheaval deep in Aidenâs core.
Still studying his face, the older man opened the door wide enough for Aiden and his luggage. âOf course,â Nolen said, shutting out the pouring rain behind them. âItâs been a long time, Master Aiden.â
Aiden searched the other manâs voice for condemnation, but found none. âPlease leave your luggage here. Iâll take it up once Marie has your room ready,â Nolen instructed.
So the same housekeeperâthe one whoâd baked cookies for him and his brothers while they were grieving the loss of their fatherâwas still here, too. They said nothing ever changed in small towns. They were right.
Aiden swept a quick glance around the open foyer, finding it the same as when heâd left, too. The only anomaly was an absent portrait that captured a long-ago moment in timeâhis parents, himself at about fifteen and his younger twin brothers about a year before his fatherâs death.
Setting down his duffel and laptop case and shaking off the last drops of rain, he followed Nolenâs silent steps through the shadowy breezeway at the center of the house. The gallery, his mother had always called this space that opened around the central staircase. It granted visitors an unobstructed view of the elaborate rails and landings of the two upper floors. Before air-conditioning, the space had allowed a breeze through the house on hot, humid, South Carolina afternoons. Today the sounds of his steps echoed off the walls as if the place were empty, abandoned.
But his mother was somewhere. Still in her old rooms, probably. Aiden didnât want to think of her, of how helpless her condition rendered her. And him. It had been so long since heâd last heard her voice on the phone, right before her stroke two years ago. After the car accident made travel difficult for her, Aidenâs mother had called him once a weekâalways when James left the house. The last time heâd seen Blackstone Manorâs phone number on his caller ID, it had been his brother calling to tell him their mother had suffered a stroke, brought on by complications from her paralysis. Then silence ever since.
To Aidenâs surprise, Nolen went directly to the stairway, oak banister gleaming even in the dim light as if it had just been polished. Most formal meetings in the house were held in his grandfatherâs study, where Aiden had assumed heâd be meeting with the lawyer. Heâd just as soon get down to business.
âDid the lawyer give up on my arrival?â Aiden asked, curious about why he was being shown to his room first.
âI was told to bring you upstairs,â Nolen replied, not even glancing back. Did he view the prodigal son with suspicion, an unknown entity who would change life as Nolen had lived it for over forty years?
Damn straight. He had every intention of using his grandfatherâs money to move his mother closer to her sons and provide her with the best care for her condition, much better than he could give her personally. Heâd sell off everything, then hightail it back to his business in New York City. He had nothing more than a hard-won career waiting for him there, but at least it was something heâd built on his own. He wanted nothing to do with Blackstone Manor or the memories hidden within its walls.
Having followed blindly, he abruptly noticed Nolenâs direction. Uneasiness stirred low in Aidenâs gut. His and his brothersâ old rooms took up the third floor. To his knowledgeâdated though it wasâonly two sets of rooms occupied the second floor: his motherâs and his grandfatherâs suites. Neither of which was he ready to visit. His motherâsâafter heâd had time to prepare himself. His grandfatherâsânever.
The lawyer, Canton, had said James died last night. Aiden had been focused on packing and getting here since then. Heâd address what the future held after talking with Canton.
He directed his question to Nolenâs back as they neared the double doors to his grandfatherâs suite, his tone emerging huskier than he would have liked. âNolen, whatâs going on?â