A Bride for a Day Page 3

  She took a sip of tea and then reached for her fork. She deserved a little “me time,” as the Americans would say.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Her brownie untouched, she heaved a sigh and put the fork down, turning toward Bridget. Her sister stood framed in the doorway of the parlor. A flyer was clutched in her hand. She was dressed casually in pressed jeans, an oversized white sweater, and leg-hugging boots. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, and her blue eyes looked like they were about to ignite.

  Lady Roselyn took another fortifying sip of tea. “Yes, I’m probably crazy; we all are, a little. Why else would we be matchmakers? But to what exactly are you referring?”

  Marching over to Lady Roselyn, Bridget threw the flyer onto the table in front of her. “Do you remember our conversation in which I said we should skip the New Year’s Eve party this year? We’ll never be ready in time. We’re still unpacking. And that’s another thing. On Christmas Eve you said we were going to take a vacation. Somewhere warm. The old family home in Scotland, in the dead of winter, hardly qualifies.”

  Lady Roselyn drummed her fingers on the table as Bridget sat down opposite her. She could almost hear their mother’s voice cautioning her to be patient with her younger sister. It was obvious that something else was bothering her. Pulling together matchmaking events on short notice was their specialty. Plus, Bridget loved the Highlands as much as they all did. One thing was certain. Bridget was itching for a fight. But why?

  Carefully, Lady Roselyn picked up the flyer her sister had thrown on top of her chocolate brownie and scraped the frosting off with her napkin. Such a waste. “Yes, I remember all your objections when I announced the party. Did you hear any of the reasons why we had no choice in the matter? Starting with the most important one: Our family has held a New Year’s Eve celebration for hundreds of years, and I will not be the first generation to break the tradition.” She licked frosting off her fingers, envying those of her friends who were only children. “But I can understand why you didn’t hear what was being said. You and Fiona were too busy arguing. There will be a New Year’s Eve celebration tonight. This is the one event where we’re not concerned with matching couples. The whole purpose is for people to have fun. Out with the old and in with the new. A chance to make a fresh start.” She paused. “Our guests will be arriving soon, so I suggest you get dressed.”

  Bridget leaned across the table and placed both hands on the lace cloth. “No matchmaking, you say? Someone should have let Fiona know. William called and said our dear sister agreed to hold a wedding here this afternoon.”

  “That’s a lovely idea. But a wedding hardly qualifies as a matchmaking event. The couple in question are getting married. They’ve already committed to each other. You’re on edge for no reason. Please sit down and have some of my brownie.”

  Bridget obliged her sister and broke off a corner of the brownie and took a bite. The chocolate seemed to calm her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I overreacted.”

  Lady Roselyn reached over to take Bridget’s hand, hoping she was wrong about the real reason Bridget was a bundle of nerves these days. “Nonsense. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, which is why we all love you. Moving so quickly was frustrating for us all, and so it’s only natural that we are a little on edge. But I felt it best for us to leave Stirling Castle and its access to the thirteenth century. There’s something going on with Fiona, and I’m worried that the castle’s Brigadoon-like enchantment had something to do with it.”

  Bridget took another bite. “She doesn’t want to marry Liam.”

  There was something in the tone of Bridget’s voice when she mentioned Liam’s name. The man quickened the blood, that was for sure. It was the rare woman who could remain immune to his easy smile and broad shoulders. But Lady Roselyn didn’t believe Bridget was infatuated with the lad. The concern was that Fiona and Liam were constantly fighting, which was the reason their wedding had been delayed so many times. Bridget and Liam, however, got along wonderfully well. They agreed on everything, with never a cross word. If only Liam’s parents had betrothed him to Bridget instead of Fiona. But what was done was done. Tradition decreed that when there were three daughters, the oldest and youngest would be married, while the middle child remained single. Bridget was the middle child.

  Over the years there’d been pockets of rebellion, but their family had always upheld the old ways, and she wasn’t about to be the first to break the chain. She added a heaping spoonful of sugar to her tea. “Is that what you argued with Fiona about? Her marriage to Liam?”

  Bridget wiped her mouth on a linen napkin. “Not this time. Fiona was concerned we hadn’t installed the right doors.” Bridget took another bite. “This brownie is delicious. Did you make it?”

  Lady Roselyn nodded slowly as she gazed out the window at the mist-shrouded day. The sun was doing its best to break through the thin cloud layer. Time would tell which was going to win. Time. She leaned closer to the window, feeling the cold air seep through the glass panes.

  She and her sisters had a unique matchmaking system. Long ago, when the system had first been developed, their family believed that it wasn’t enough to place two attractive people together and hope for the best. The real test of a lasting relationship was how a couple worked together when they were faced with conflict. Lady Roselyn was still not sure how the enchantment worked. Or how their clan had been gifted with it in the first place. That secret was entrusted to William, and his ancestors, and he was sworn to secrecy.

  The doors were of various sizes and shapes, and had once been in castles, manor houses, and places all over the globe. Once installed, they could open to the place and date etched or painted on the door. The enchanted doors she and her sisters had inherited played a major role. It was intriguing that Fiona had been so concerned about which ones were installed.

  She turned back to Bridget. “Did Fiona mention which door she was looking for?”

  Bridget reached across the table to take a sip of Lady Roselyn’s tea. “No, but she was pretty frantic. She was concerned that we might have left some of them behind. I told her that wouldn’t happen. I made the joke that William was our Keeper of the Doors and had them all catalogued. Leaving one behind for him would be like forgetting to pack one of his hats.”

  “What did she say?”

  Bridget stood. “She didn’t answer. She just stormed off. I should get dressed and check on the menu for tonight. If we’re going to have a wedding, we’ll need a cake. Again, I’m sorry for my outburst. I think you’re right. This matchmaking business makes us all a little crazy from time to time.”

  Lady Roselyn straightened the napkin on her lap. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Bridget nodded, turned to leave, but paused. “Oh, and thank you for the brownie.”

  Lady Roselyn glanced at the china plate. Only crumbs remained. Yes, there were days when she definitely envied her friends who were only children.

  Chapter Five

  Michael was admitted to the mansion’s library with the message that Tatiana had asked to speak with him. She must have been reading his mind. He’d felt they were growing apart for the past several months. Since she’d returned from her visit with her soon-to-be ex-husband, Darrell Grant, she’d been different. Or maybe Michael was the one who was different. He fully expected Tatiana to break off their engagement, with the classic line, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  As he entered, Tatiana was in the library facing a dark fireplace. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  He waited for her to turn around and face him. Her statement could mean anything from the latest marketing plan for her shoe company to a shopping spree with her mother. Ever since Tatiana had visited her husband over Thanksgiving she’d been distant. Michael had understood. Divorcing someone you’d been married to for five years couldn’t be easy.

  She turned around, and in the shadows it looked as though she’d bee
n crying. “I know I said I wanted to plan a big wedding.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “But we’ll get married as soon as my divorce is final.”

  Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets. He’d never seen Tatiana like this before. She rarely showed emotion, let alone tears. “What’s wrong?”

  She clutched the handkerchief in her hand. “My mother said Darrell is dating someone. Someone he wants to marry. My mother didn’t know her name, but I think it’s that model from New Zealand; Kiki is her name. Kiki actually told me once how jealous she was of me because I was married to a man like Darrell.”

  Michael wanted to point out that she and Darrell had been separated for almost two years and she herself was dating, after all. Tatiana had begun pacing across the room, almost wearing a pattern in the thick pile carpeting. Instinct told him that now wouldn’t be the time to point out those little details.

  She came to an abrupt stop and burst out, “I’m pregnant.”

  Michael felt a blast of heat hit him as though he’d walked into a furnace room. His first impulse was to grab her and tell her how happy he was. She didn’t look happy, though. She looked prickly. Annoyed.

  He moved toward her cautiously, as though she were a frightened animal that might run if he moved too fast. “All the more reason we should get married right away.”

  She wrung her hands together. “Don’t you see? Darrell will never give me a divorce now. We said things. We did…” She flopped down on the sofa. “You and C.C. getting married is the only way. He’s being stubborn. I told him I wanted the seaside cottage we lived in when we were first married. I can’t stand the idea of Kiki sleeping in our bed. That’s where we planned…where we hoped…”

  Michael sat down beside her, and reached for her hand. “Do you still want a divorce?”

  She sprang from the sofa. “What an odd thing to say! Didn’t you hear what I was saying? Of course I want a divorce from Darrell. I know him. He won’t meet my demands as long as you and I are dating. He said as much at Thanksgiving. He’s crazy jealous of you. His contract wasn’t renewed, and he has few options after two shoulder surgeries. Your career is on the rise.” Her voice rose to a high pitch. “Don’t you see? He won’t give me what I want as long as we’re together. That’s why it has to look as though you’ve moved on and are married to someone else.” She frowned. “He’ll love the idea that you broke my heart.”

  This wasn’t the first time Tatiana had accused Darrell of seeing other women. Her mother kept Tatiana well informed. It wasn’t Michael’s business, but it never made sense. True, Darrell was a competitor on the football field, but Michael liked the guy. If anything, it was rumored that Darrell still loved Tatiana and hadn’t seen anyone since their breakup. That was the real reason Darrell was jealous of him and was being so stubborn.

  “It’s just a cottage,” Michael said. “We can buy another one.”

  He knew the moment he’d said the words that they were the wrong ones to say. Her shoulders slumped forward as she buried her face in her hands. He’d heard that pregnant women sometimes were more emotional than normal. If this was what she wanted, then this was what he would help her get.

  Michael rose and put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. There was more going on than a cottage. He knew that without asking. Tatiana had never known the identity of her father. In Michael’s case, his deadbeat dad had fled the moment he’d learned Michael’s mother was pregnant. “Do you really think this fake marriage will work?”

  She tilted her face to his. It was tearstained, and smudged with makeup. “Thank you. I’ll have to make a scene at the wedding. Pretend like I’m hurt.”

  “I know.”

  He gathered her closer. It hit him that he’d entered into the realm of pretense. Everyone was pretending. Tatiana would pretend that she was outraged that Michael was getting married. He and C.C. would pretend to get married. When the dust settled, he and Tatiana would pretend they loved each other for the sake of their child. The only thing he wasn’t pretending was how he felt about C.C.

  Chapter Six

  The grandfather clock, in the room Lady Roselyn referred to as the Door Room, struck five. She stood gazing out the window at the front entrance to the mansion. Guests were already gathering. At least something was going right. The habit of gazing out windows, she decided, was becoming too common of late. The consequences of their profession, she supposed. Below, a young woman was getting out of a limo with Fiona.

  “That’s the bride?”

  William nodded.

  “She’s lovely.”

  “Fiona and C.C. spent the day shopping for dresses but couldn’t find any that would suit.”

  “Understandable. Fiona told me that this is a marriage of convenience, so the bride-to-be is a little uncertain. I suggest we loan C.C. one in our collection. The Victorian lace, perhaps. What do you know of the groom?”

  “Fine lad, but almost as nervous as the bride.”

  “Really? Well, now isn’t that interesting?”

  William scrunched his eyebrows together. “Why are you smiling?”

  “You’ll see. You’ll see.”

  ****

  Several hours later, Inverness, Scotland, was dressed up for New Year’s Eve. Twinkling lights outlined shops, hotels and boats docked along the River Ness. The lights traveled around tree trunks, shimmered from their branches, and then outlined the bridges that joined the old section of Inverness with the new. A fairyland of infinite possibilities: out with the old and in with the new.

  Inside the MacBride mansion overlooking the town, C.C. held in her lap the shoes Fiona had given her. Since the morning’s unexpected decision at the Matchmaker Café, she’d felt as though she’d been caught in a strange whirlwind of dress shopping and wedding preparations. When the wedding shops in Inverness had not produced anything she’d liked, Fiona had driven them both to the mansion with the promise of a surprise, compliments of the matchmaker sisters.

  C.C. knew it would be a dress. She didn’t know it would be one that fulfilled every childhood dream she’d ever had. The gown hanging on the mannequin before her looked as though it had been made for a princess: white lace over satin, seed pearls, diamond-like crystals… She sucked in her breath. She’d wanted to refuse, think of an excuse like she had with the other dresses, but this one was so lovely. Her romantic side betrayed her by urging her to sigh and twirl around in a circle like a lovestruck sixteen-year-old before taking her seat.

  Fiona opened a white box and selected a lace garter with a heart-shaped silver locket. “You haven’t said a word in over half an hour.”

  “This is really happening.”

  Fiona scrunched her eyebrows together. “You look a little overwhelmed. Did I go overboard? I do that sometimes. I love weddings and wanted you to feel like Cinderella.”

  C.C. winced at the reference. Few knew that C.C. stood for Cinderella Charming. She looked down at the shoes she held. They looked like how she imagined Cinderella’s glass slippers might look, which to most would feel like a fantasy come to life. To her, it was the direct opposite. The cloth on the shoes was almost transparent, and studded with crystals. Silver dusted the heels, and on each shoe perched a three-dimensional butterfly outlined in silver and gold threads.

  “It’s too much,” C.C. said.

  Fiona knelt down beside her and took both C.C.’s hands in hers. “We are aware that this wedding is all for show, but your bridegroom said that you don’t have to go through with it. He’s quite a guy, by the way.”

  C.C. lifted her gaze. “Have you noticed that everyone is in awe of celebrities, from movie and TV stars to athletes and multi-billionaires? Before modern time, it was the nobles. It’s as though someone sprinkled them with magic fairy dust and turned them into super beings—we can’t look away. We have to follow them, dream of meeting them. For the first time in my life I think I know what Cinderella must have been feeling. The fantasy is that she was excited and anxious to meet
the prince, but I’ve always wondered if she was caught up in the romance of meeting a handsome guy everyone considered perfect and never really believed it would happen. There’s safety in wanting something you know in your heart you can’t have. When she realized it might really happen, she must have been in a panic. By then it was too late to turn back. Her path had been chosen for her. The prince was in a tenuous position as well. He had to choose a bride or risk losing the crown. Cinderella must have seemed like a breath of fresh air compared to the clingy royal princesses that only wanted him for his wealth and position. This evening Michael and I will exchange our vows, and tomorrow, or very soon afterwards, the marriage will be annulled. I’m a bride for a day. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. We don’t love each other. We’ve struck a bargain. Our marriage helps his image, and I receive a generous bonus that will help my family. Everybody wins.”

  Fiona squeezed C.C.’s hands and came around to sit beside her. “You might find this strange, but I know exactly how you feel. Michael said much the same thing, and yet…”

  C.C. looked up. “And yet…what?”

  “Oh, nothing. Well, then, since the two of you want to make a good impression, we’d better get you ready.”

  “Do you have any wedding dresses in black?”

  Chapter Seven

  C.C. stood in the middle of the dressing room, afraid to sit down and crush the train of her gown. Fiona had left to see if everything was ready. This was the first time she’d been alone all day. A soft knock at the door drew her attention.

  “Come in,” she said, wondering why Fiona would knock.

  The door opened to Alba, Tatiana’s mother. At a quick glance, there was a close resemblance between Alba and her daughter. That stopped the moment either of them spoke or moved. Tatiana seemed to flow into a room, like a meadow stream. Alba burst in like a storm-fed river.