Authors: Mary Margret Daughtridge

SEALed with a Ring (19 page)

"I'm glad." Bronwyn touched white lace set into the dress's sheer georgette sleeve with reverent fingers. "But this pantsuit," she indicated her gray slacks and jacket, the pants darker from the knees down where her raincoat's protection from the downpour had ended, "is the fanciest thing I own."

Mary Cole, elegant in a street-length dress in one of the silvery fabrics she wore so well, came up in time to hear Bronwyn's protest. "You must be Bronwyn. Don't worry about a thing. My daughters raided their closets and sent dresses they thought would work, but really now that I see your dark red hair, I think the emerald green silk will be perfect. Come upstairs with me now, and we'll get you changed. Give us twenty minutes," she told JJ over her shoulder.

JJ watched as her friend was borne away up the curv ing staircase garlanded with white satin ribbon and caught up at intervals with nosegays of burgundy and tealight roses and white baby's breath—the work of an army of florists who had arrived at 6 a.m. A jeweler had arrived last night with a selection of rings. It was amazing what a few phone calls and enough money could accomplish.

Her eye was caught by an unaccustomed sparkle on her finger. David had surprised her last night with his mother's diamond ring—a gesture more sensitive and sentimental than she would have thought him likely to make.

"I don't know if you'd like to wear this. It was my mother's engagement ring from her first marriage—to my father. She said the stone is small but good quality."

"Oh…!" She'd done her best to hang on to the notion that the marriage was a contract. She'd congratulated herself that she'd found a man who, if he was marrying her for her money, at least wasn't doing so out of greed and who expected no more from the marriage than she did. JJ fought her thudding heart and thickening throat. "Uh—no—I—you shouldn't—I can't take this."

He turned her hand palm up and placed the shabby but obviously treasured little box in it. "She always said it was for my bride. You're my bride."

JJ detected a flicker of pain in the clear depths of his eyes. "Please don't get the wrong idea. I didn't mean to reject the ring. It's only that, well, don't you want to wait?"

"For what?"

"Wait until it's real. What if you find the perfect woman? Someone you want to be with forever. You don't want to give her a ring that's used."

"What if this is as real as it gets?" he countered. "What if you're the only wife I'll ever have? I have knocked on the doors of heaven. They are closer than anyone thinks. When my number's up, I have to know I did all I could. That I gave everything I had. I have a ring. For my bride."

"I feel like I'm stealing something—something pre cious. I ought to call this off now. If I had any other option, I would."

"If you don't want it, you don't have to wear it. It doesn't look like much compared to rings you have."

"It isn't that. But shouldn't it go to your sister or your brothers?"

"This is mine. It's the ring my father gave to my mother. When Mom remarried, she put it away for me. It's just about the only thing I have to give you."

"It's beautiful. I'll treasure it. And if you ever want it back—"

His face went grim. "Don't say it."

"All right, but…" JJ made a mental note to call her law yer Monday and have him add a codicil to her will, leaving the ring to David's sister in the event of JJ's death.

"Don't say 'but' either. If you don't count Mrs. Gutierrez, my kindergarten teacher; my aunt Katherine; and Serena Brancuzzi in the fourth grade, I've never proposed before."

"You asked that many before you were—what, nine?"

"I didn't exactly understand that you're supposed to ask—at least not my kindergarten teacher and Aunt Katherine."

"How about Serena?"

"Her, I asked."

She was being charmed and maneuvered. It was im possible not to know it but equally impossible not to smile. "What happened?"

"She slugged me. I took that as a 'no.'"

"Oh, I don't know about that. It might have meant she really liked you."

"Doesn't matter. She taught me not to go for girls who could hit harder than I could. It was about then that I began to see that girls had more going for them than a solid right hook. But I learned not to take a girl by surprise with a thing like marriage. Would you mind if I propose now?"

"Propose? Marriage?"

"It sort of goes with the ring—if you know what I mean." He carefully extracted the ring, a diamond soli taire in a simple Tiffany setting, and holding it out, went down on one knee. "I've always wanted to do this. I'm not going to miss my chance. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will."

If she'd had a choice, JJ didn't believe she would have said no.

"Someone put flowers on the stairs," David's brother Riley jerked JJ from her reverie of rings and SEALs and the first real marriage proposal she'd ever received.

"Were you speaking to me?" she asked the teen. It wasn't always easy to tell since Riley rarely made eye contact.

"Yes, I was," speaking in his oddly precise way, Riley answered. "No one can hear me when I do not speak aloud."

Though there was a shapeliness about his stripling build that spoke of working out, his clothes seemed to fit him oddly. His gray slacks sat too high at his waist. His white dress shirt, buttoned at wrist and throat, was too large in the neck. His military-short hair was the same light brown as the twins'. She had been stand ing in the middle of the entry, lost in thought. She had neither seen nor heard him come into the soaring two story space.

"Okay. What about the flowers?"

"Flowers do not go on balustrades. They were not there yesterday," he added as if that clinched his argument.

JJ
had
been staring into space, in the direction of the broad, curving flight of steps. Maybe he had interpreted her bemusement as disapproval. People with Asperger's had difficulty reading body language and often mistook others' intentions. "They're meant to be pretty," she cor rected gently. "The florist came this morning and put them there."

"Why?"

"They're decorations for the wedding."

He looked up and down at her dress as if he'd just taken in its significance. "Are you the bride?"

"Didn't anyone tell you your brother and I are getting married this afternoon?"

"Yes." Riley shambled away in his uncoordinated gait.

JJ shook her head at the strangeness of the encounter. His brothers and sister said Riley had a genius IQ, but he seemed to her to lack even common sense, as well as being what most people would take as rude. As the baby, according to them, he'd been spoiled by their mother and allowed to get his way with tantrums. Recognizing he did better in a more structured environment and thinking he needed a man's discipline, his mother had enrolled him in Dempsey Hall, a quasi-military school in North Carolina's Piedmont Region. The twins would return him there in the morning on their way back to Charlottesville, Virginia.

This was the teenager she'd agreed to be the guardian of if anything happened to David. Well, thank God there was a school that seemed to know what to do with him. She was fairly sure she didn't.

"David, take Jane Jessup's right hand and repeat after me, 'I, David Christopher, take you Jane Jessup…'"

David's warm, hard fingers closed around her icy ones and tugged JJ back to reality. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she had no idea where they were in the service. Was it time for her to say something?

"I, David Christopher, take you, Jane Jessup, to be my lawful wedded wife…" she heard David say. She was okay then. In her moment of inattention she hadn't flubbed anything. She forced herself to focus and found herself wondering how the shade of brown of his eyes would be described. Liquid chocolate, maybe. The trouble was that no color described how warm and sparkly they were. Was there such a thing as a merry shade of brown?

His eyes had drawn her from the beginning. In a face so perfect it almost looked artificial, his eyes had laughed at the huge joke of it all and sparkled in carefree anticipation of the next adventure.

"To have and to hold from this day forward…"

"For richer or for poorer…"

"To love and to cherish…"

The joking twinkle disappeared. My God, he looked serious. Why hadn't she remembered she would have to promise to love and cherish him?

JJ made as many empty promises and told as many so cial lies as the next person, but her word meant something to her. She had always been proud that her customers knew her personal integrity stood behind Caruthers, and her dedication to the stewardship of family business had always been the central pillar of her integrity. To save the business, to marry David, she had to say words she didn't mean. The monstrous wrongness filled her throat.

Until this moment, Caruthers had never required more than she was willing to give. She should have found another way to save the dealership. She should stop this farce right now. She was no child to cross her fingers behind her back.

She had been so focused on what the business would gain that she had given no thought to what she would lose. The pounding of her heart shook her entire body. For the first time in her life, JJ thought she might collapse.

"This is my solemn vow," David finished. His left hand came up to cover her hand where he held it, as if he sought to warm her icy fingers before he let them go.

"Jane Jessup, take David's right hand and repeat after me…"

The fingers with which she took David's hand were shaking so badly, she closed her left hand over their joined hands lest she drop them. Through lips that felt frozen she spoke her vows.

Chapter 32

DAVID LET HIMSELF INTO JJ'S BEDROOM AND INHALED the subtly flowery, spicy smell he associated with her. He'd like to take the time to go through her things, but she probably wouldn't appreciate it. He went quickly to her huge walk-in closet, where clothes hung orga nized by season and category. She would need a coat. As predicted, the storm which had kept the coastal city a muggy sixty degrees was being chased by a cold front. He selected a ruby red, down-filled parka as the most likely to be comfortable and warm.

What else would she need? Most of the clothes she wore frequently were already at the house on Topsail. Her purse! Never separate a woman from her purse. He went to the bank of built-in drawers surround ing the three-way mirror. Aware of an illicit thrill, he opened one that was too shallow to hold purses. Oh man! Thongs. He wished he had time to look at them one by one. In the back of the drawer, a silken pouch, embroidered with "It's all about the ride," teased him to open the snap and explore its contents. Aware time was slipping away, reluctantly he replaced the pouch exactly as he had found it.

He opened a deep drawer near the bottom as more likely to contain what he was looking for and was re warded with more sizes, shapes, and colors of handbags than he had ever known existed. How was he to know which one she would need? He didn't. He'd seen her wallet and keys on a dresser in her bedroom. He'd just tuck them into the deep pockets of the parka. He was at the closet door when, on impulse, he turned back and went to the little drawer. It glided open as slickly and silently as before. He palmed the little silken pouch.

Back in the living room, David watched his bride cir culate among the wedding guests. His bride. God, she was beautiful.

A flare of elemental possessiveness heated his chest. In all the strange, out-of-sync confusion of the past months since his injury, this one thing he knew he'd done right. Peace, he'd always thought, was a lack of anything happening—something that had never seemed worth seeking. But he thought this feeling of rightness, this lack of shadow, might be a kind of peace.

He wasn't there yet though. Ceremony notwithstand ing, he wasn't sure she understood that she was his wife. She hadn't given herself to him, not
herself.
He knew he would never be satisfied and completely at peace until she did.

He'd made a start last night by giving her a ring. He thought he'd gotten to her with that. He'd seen how she lifted her hand from time to time and the soft expression of bemusement that came into her eyes as she looked at it. It was time for the next step.

"What do you mean we're leaving?" JJ protested when he'd lured her away from the crowd in the living room. Behind them, two of the caterer's staff worked quietly. "We can't leave."

He grinned. She said it the way you explain which way the earth turns, like it was an irrefutable fact. He admired her strength, her competence, her ability to take charge. He did. But he had areas of competence of his own, and she was about to meet up with them.

He slid an arm around her waist and moved her to ward the door to the garage. "I'm kidnapping you."

She stopped to search his face. "You're kidding."

He tilted his head. "You want me to get out the duct tape?"

"But I need to change out of this wedding dress. It's not mine."

He put her in motion again. "Change when we get to the cottage."

"It's not right to just go off and leave Lucas with all of those people to entertain—three of whom are your siblings, and we're just abandoning them!"

"He needs a challenge." In fact, when David had told him what he was going to do, Lucas had all but rubbed his hands in glee and offered him the keys to the Rover.

"And there's the clean-up."

David grinned inwardly. She was reaching if she pulled out that one. He gave her a warning look. "I have two words for you. Duct. Tape. Here's your coat."

"My purse."

"Wallet and keys are in the left pocket. Anything else?"

"I, at least, need to take leave of my guests."

He hoped she didn't think that prim tone would put him in his place. "You just got married, JJ. They will guess where you're off to." She was skittish, not used to going with the flow. Once they had made love, she'd be all right. It was just a matter of getting over the first hill. After that, they would have all the momentum they needed. "Now, do I have to carry you, or are you going to come quietly?"

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