Unexpected Bride (7 page)

Gently he tugged on Abby's wrist, leading her into an alcove off the vestibule. "I want to apologize for last night."

He couldn't believe he'd suggested that Lara was a mistake. His words had kept him awake all last night, plagued with guilt.

"Don't," she said, shaking her wrist to lose his grasp.

He held fast, however, his fingers stroking her soft skin. registering her leaping pulse. "Don't what?" he asked, his own heart racing.

"Don't be nice, Clayton." Her blue eyes, wide with apprehension, stared up at him. "We're not nice to each other."

He sighed. "That was then. I shouldn't have been so hard on you," he admitted. "You were just a kid."

"Were
you
ever just a kid, Claylon?" she asked, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Haven't you ever done anything you regretted?"

God, she reached deep inside him, pulling out thoughts he hadn't considered in so long—the past, with all his youthful dreams and fantasies. He'd buried the lot of them with his father. Still he had no regrets. "Not yet I haven't." Although if she stuck around, if she kept tempting him, he might. "Except for what I said to you last night..."

"Forget about it," she replied. And this time when she tugged on her wrist, he released her. "I already have."

She reached up. Her nails, the same deep crimson as her dress, scraped his throat as she adjusted his black bow tie. He drew in a deep breath, reacting instinctively to her touch, her closeness. The scent of lilies drifted up from the single perfect flower nestled in her blond curls. Then her fingers skimmed his chin. "Don't worry, Clayton. I'll be gone soon."

Not soon enough for him, for his peace of mind. Abby stepped out of the alcove, into the throng of arriving guests. Her laugh rang out as she greeted people she hadn't seen in years. She appeared unconcerned, but Clayton knew she was merely acting.

He moved back toward the bride's dressing room, and when he raised his hand to knock, he found he was shaking. Yeah. Abby couldn't leave soon enough for him. "Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready?" he called out.

"Yes. I'm ready," she answered.

"I'll ask Brenna to tell them to start the music." She was in charge, after all, having far more to do with the arrangements than the bride had had.

Now, Brenna lined up the wedding party. She look her place beside the best man, Dr. Nick Jameson. Colleen and Rory would walk together afler Abby and before the flower girl and twin ring bearers, leaving Clayton to walk down with Abby before going back to retrieve the bride.

When Abby's fingers closed around his arm, his muscles tensed. He didn't know exactly what it was about her touch, but he could still feel the pressure of her hand against his thigh from the day before. What would it have felt like directly against his skin?

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Brenna turned back toward him and said, "You're sure Molly's all right? She wouldn't let us back in to check on her."

He nodded. "She told me she was ready."

"Okay, here we go," Brenna said, and then she and the best man headed down the aisle.

A few beats later, Clayton and Abby followed. Actually, she led. "Who's speeding now?" he murmured, and glanced down at her. Her face pinched and pale, she stared down all those townspeople she'd left behind eight years ago. He couldn't imagine what she must be feeling at the moment. She'd left in disgrace at eighteen, and now she'd returned as a single mother. He honestly didn't judge her for that, but he suspected that some people might in their conservative town.

When they reached the altar, she held his arm for an extra moment before releasing him to step behind Brenna. He hesitated, irrationally feeling as if he'd deserted her. If she needed protection, she had her friends. She didn't need him.

He turned, walked past the groom and best man and then slipped around the last pew to return to the vestibule. Just inside the open doors to the church Lara stood between Buzz and T.J. The boys were tussling over a pillow that would have held the wedding rings, had their father trusted them with them. Lara's tiny fingers clutched a basket of crimson rose petals. With her golden hair and pale skin, she looked angelic in her gown of white lace and satin.

He crouched to her level and asked, "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

She shifted her gaze from the basket of petals, her eyes wide with apprehension, as her mother's had been a minute earlier.

"You're going to be great," Clayton assured her, resting his hand on her shoulder for a quick squeeze before she and the tuxedoed twins started down the aisle. The boys rushed ahead while Lara painstakingly dropped her petals, one at a time, upon the white runner. Gentle laughter rippled through the congregation. From the front of the church, Abby beamed an encouraging smile at her daughter.

Clayton's breath caught and held. Abby had never looked more beautiful to him. But he would have to pull his gaze away. He didn't have time for the feelings that were rushing through him. He didn't have time for the kind of trouble Abby Hamilton would bring to his life.

Reminded of his responsibilities, he headed back to find Molly. Why wasn't she out already? She was taking this no-one-seeing-the-bride-in-her-wedding-gown thing a little too far. "Molly?"

When she didn't answer his knock, he turned the knob and pushed open the door...to an empty room. The wedding gown swung from its hook on the wall, the layers of lace and satin lifting in the breeze blowing through an open window.

"Oh, God!" Molly was gone, leaving behind her wedding dress with a note pinned to the bodice. And the name scrawled across the front of it wasn't the groom's or even Clayton's. The note his sister had left behind was addressed to
Abby.
His hand shaking, he pulled out the pin and shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jacket.

Every muscle tense, he stalked back into the sanctuary. Mrs. Hild, at the organ, played the wedding march. All the guests rose and turned to face the entrance, where Clayton stood
alone.
He ignored the murmurs and the curious stares. He avoided looking at the groom. He had no idea what to say to Josh or anyone else but
her.
He focused on Abby. This was her fault. She'd done exactly what he'd told her not to do. She'd talked the bride into running away, just as Abby had run away eight years ago. She was still a troublemaker.

The bridal march played on. But no bride walked down the aisle. Only Clayton.

Molly came to her senses.
Relief washed over Abby wilh the realization, easing the knot of apprehension that had tormented her ever since Molly had announced her engagement. During their slumber party at Mrs. Mick's house, she must have gotten through to the nervous bride.

Clayton believed she had, as well. He blamed her. His dark gaze burned into her, and her stomach knotted with new apprehension. And excitement. She had never felt more alive than when she used to get a rise out of Clayton. No matter what ages they'd been, he'd always seemed so unflappable and in control to Abby. Struggling with her life, Abby had envied that control nearly as much as she'd envied Clayton his family.

At last, Mrs. Hild took notice of the situation and her fingers stilled. The church fell silent, everyone staring at Clayton, while Clayton stared at Abby.

Even though his face was tense, a wry grin touched his mouth. "The wedding is going to be slightly delayed," he said. "The bride is not quite ready yet, so we appreciate your patience. Thank you."

So Molly hadn't left the church—she was just not ready to walk down the aisle? Abby couldn't let Clayton use a sense of obligation or some other excuse to pressure Molly into doing something she really didn't want to do. She bunched her hands in the fabric of her dress. lifting the skirt so she could head down the aisle at a dead run without tripping and falling on her face. She'd already figuratively done that once in front of everyone in Cloverville, when she'd been expelled before graduation.

Clayton, distracted by the way Abby's body moved in the red dress as she ran toward him, nearly let her pass. But then he swallowed hard, suppressing the attraction he felt, and took her arm, linking it through his. He gestured toward Mrs. Hild, who began to play the wedding march again. Abby tugged, but Clayton clasped her closer, forcing her to slow her steps.

"I want to talk to Molly," she said, her voice barely kept to a whisper.

"So do I," he admitted, as they stopped by the door to the empty dressing room.

Abby opened the door, then whirled back toward Clayton, her eyes narrowed accusingly. "Where is she?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Where is she?"

She blinked and then laughed. "She took off?"

"Like you're surprised," he said sardonically, reaching into his pocket for the crumpled note. "You're the only one she left with any explanation."

Abby snatched the envelope from his hand, tore open the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"What does it say?" he asked as she silently read his sister's message. He should have opened the note himself the minute he'd found it. But then his parents had raised him to respect his siblings' privacy. Even so, he curled his hand into a fist so that he wouldn't reach for the paper now and tear it from Abby's hand. "Come on. I'm worried about her. I want to know what it says!"

"It's a good thing that she ran off," Abby said. "Before making the biggest mistake of her life."

Behind them, someone gasped. Clayton turned to face the rest of the wedding party, which had apparently followed them back down the aisle.

"Josh, I'm sorry," he said to Molly's abandoned fiance.

Color flooded Abby's face and her eyes closed with regret. Then her daughter came closer, chastising her mother. "Mommy, you're not s'posed to run in church. Or talk loud." She cast a disapproving gaze on her mother— and on the ring bearers, too.

"Mommy was bad," Clayton murmured for Abby's ears only.
Very
bad, since he knew she was responsible for Molly's disappearance. Was this her plan all along—to come back to Cloverville and cause as much trouble as she could? Was this her revenge for the way the town—and
Clayton
—had treated her?

Talking Molly out of getting married was far more serious than the tattoos she'd talked her into when they were all a lot younger.

"I'm sorry," Abby said, both to Josh and her daughter. She offered Clayton no apology, however. "She doesn't say that... In the note...about making a mistake. She's just really confused right now."

"What's going on?" Rory asked, tugging loose the knot on his bow tie. "Did Molly really skip out?"

Clayton shrugged his tense shoulders. "Ask Abby. She's the one with the explanation."

Abby's heart filled with mixed emotions. At first she'd simply been relieved that Molly had acknowledged her feelings and changed her mind. Now she contemplated the emotional fallout as she faced the groom and his two young sons.

"Is she all right?" Josh asked, his eyes shining with concern. Any other jilted groom probably would be furious over being left at the altar, but Josh appeared more worried about his runaway bride than his pride.

Abby thought she understood why her friend had accepted his proposal. It was so hard to find a genuinely nice guy. But if Molly didn't absolutely love the man and his sons, she'd done them a favor by leaving before saying "I do."