Accidental Bride(41)

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Kelly said. “I mean, you don’t have to turn yourself inside out for her. She’s stubborn and strange and hard to get along with. We’re only going to be married for five more weeks, so it’s probably not worth the effort.”

“It’s worth it. I’ll do my best.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what Kelly thought about his declaration, but she stayed snuggled up against him as she relaxed into sleep.

He stayed awake for a long time, holding her and thinking. Wondering if Kelly could ever get to the point of loving him enough to leave her grandmother.





Eight




On Saturday, Kelly stood in front of the mirror, wondering if the woman in the reflection was really her.

They were getting ready for the fancy wedding reception that her grandmother had planned with Mrs. Blake for her and Peter, and her grandmother had insisted she wear something that looked like a wedding dress.

So she’d gone out shopping with Rose and Deanna a few days ago, and they’d bought the dress she wore right now. It was sleek and fitted in white silk, with beautiful embroidery and beading at the neckline and at the waist. It could have been a wedding dress. Or a cocktail dress. Either way, it wasn’t anything that Kelly normally wore.

She’d already done her makeup, and her hair was loose as she decided what to do with it. She couldn’t help but recognize how pretty she looked—and nothing like her regular self at all.

The week had gone quickly, as she and Peter had fallen back into their regular class and work schedule. He hadn’t brought up sex again, which was both a relief and a disappointment. She kept remembering what the weekend away had felt like with him, but it now seemed more like a pleasant fantasy. Not like something that was part of her real life.

Besides, she needed to be careful, or she’d never be satisfied with her normal life, when they both went their own ways again.

Peter had been taking a shower, but he came out now, wearing just his underwear.

She vigilantly kept her eyes up on his face.

He stopped when he saw her, so abruptly it confused her.

“What?” she asked, turning around to face him.

He blinked a few times, his eyes running up and down her body in a way she couldn’t possibly misinterpret. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” She was smiling as she turned back to face the mirror, reminding herself not to sneak a peek at Peter’s body in the reflection.

“Are you going to keep your hair like that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Braids might look a little strange with the dress.”

Of course, they would. She’d gone back to wearing her braids, since they made her feel more like herself, but she no longer really liked how she looked in them. She definitely shouldn’t wear them to the reception. “Yeah. I know.”

Peter walked over until he was standing directly behind her, looking at her through the mirror. His face was sober as he wrapped one arm around her, pulling her back against him. “What are you afraid of, Kelly?”

She couldn’t look away from his eyes, although she was strangely bewildered by the sight of them together, him mostly naked, her in this dress. “I don’t know. It felt different when we were in Vegas, or when we were on our honeymoon. I could be someone different there. But I’m not sure…I’m not sure I can be someone different here.”

“You can. You can, if you want to be.”

“I don’t know what I want.” She felt almost helpless as she admitted the truth to him.

He nodded, his eyes still holding hers with that same sober intensity. “I know you don’t.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, as they gazed at themselves together in the mirror. Then Kelly finally cleared her throat and pulled away from him gently. “You better get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh, releasing her and walking over to where he’d laid out a black suit. “I’m already making little enough progress with your grandmother. She’d never forgive me if I made us late to this party.”

He’d evidently been serious about trying to get her grandmother to like him. All week, he’d been meticulously polite, asking about the Beaufort history and all the collectibles she’d filled this house with and even asking about the names of the Pride. Grandmama’s manner hadn’t changed with him, though.

Peter was right. For some reason, she didn’t like him—her disapproval stronger toward him than toward almost anyone else in their social circle.

It didn’t make any sense. Peter had never been a prude, but he was thoroughly decent—kind and intelligent and gentle at his heart. He was much more of a gentleman than Mitchell had been when Deanna had married him, and Grandmama had been so absolutely set on that marriage.