But they weren’t. Not in any way.
The priest turned to her, bushy eyebrows raised in silent inquiry.
No, she wanted to yell. No, I don't.
He began intoning, the familiar verses bouncing around in her head.
Love, honor, cherish, protect. Forsake. Forevermore.
Reality blurred into unreality. Lise couldn’t believe this was happening. Not only the marriage to a man she abhorred, but the surrounding hoopla he’d demanded take place. She’d figured there’d be some quiet ceremony in some judge’s chambers with no one except the two of them in attendance. No mess or fuss. Something she could easily put in the back of her brain and forget in a couple of days.
“Did you think you would be allowed to marry me in a broom closet?” His accent had rolled the words with sarcastic scorn as they’d confronted each other in his office. “Sorry, Princesse. You will marry me in front of everyone we know.”
She hadn’t realized the plans he’d had.
Her plans.
In some way, this conniving man standing beside her had found out about her cherished dreams. Dreams she’d put away when Robert had insisted they were silly and expensive. She’d put away the pictures of a fairy-tale-princess dress and replaced it with a sleek, modern white suit. Away went the photos of the wedding cake, tall and ivory, with a cascading fall of sugared roses. In its place, Robert had stated they’d have a nice lunch at his favorite tavern near his work. There wasn’t any reason to go out of the country for the honeymoon, Robert had said, even though she’d always dreamed of Paris. Instead, they’d be much happier taking a short trip to Dover.
She’d been fine with it. She’d even managed to convince Tracy and Suz.
Lise’s attention shot back to reality when a soft, female cough came from her side.
She blinked.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Suz’s red fingernails tapping on the coral satin ribbon wrapped around the perfect corsage of pink-tipped roses and hydrangeas. The wedding flowers were an exact copy of the pictures she’d cut out of magazines during the past few years.
“Say something,” Suz whispered. “Like…I do.”
He’d demanded her friends be part of this farce. He’d demanded they wear the minty-green gowns with flounces and lace, in a design that matched her wedding dress. Tracy and Suz had seemed enchanted with the entire production and when they’d met Vico’s best man and attendant, his brother and cousin evidently, they’d gushed over how gorgeous Italian males were.
The priest stood in front of her, his eyebrows now rising near the top of his forehead. “Miss?” he muttered. “Do you?”
The flowers in her hand, gardenias and roses spiced with baby’s breath and greens, could smash right onto her groom’s long black hair. Her imagination flared as she pictured the commotion that would follow. Her mother would weep with joy. Her friends would gasp in shock. He’d bellow and yell as she marched out of St. George’s, the church she’d chosen when she’d been a young, dreamy reader of regencies. She’d thought it the only place a wedding should be held.
Another cough. This one rough and male.
Lise forced herself to look at Vico Mattare. She didn’t want to acknowledge reality, but she knew he’d give it to her.
His glare beamed with threat.
Taverwood Grange.
Her mother.
“I do.”
The priest heaved a sigh of relief and rambled on about the sanctity of the bond and other bloody nonsense that had nothing to do with this pact made in hell. The crowd rustled behind them, a whisper here, a murmur there. He’d invited everyone. His entire family had flown in from Italy in two leased planes. The entire staff of HSF were here. Her mother’s long list of important people had been given a laced invitation. An exact replica of the one Lise had found years ago in an old cupboard at home and had saved in her wedding dream box.
She’d kept that damn box on the highest shelf of her bedroom closet.
How had he found it?
“Princesse.” His voice came from her side, low and threatening. “Give me your hand.”
She glanced at the priest and again, saw a look of astonishment mixed with growing concern on his aged face. Perhaps God had slid a word of horror into his servant’s ear and he would call a halt to this abomination.
“Lise.”
She turned to face reality one more time.
His glare said everything. Everything she already knew. Her home gone. Her mother devastated. Her last hold on her business destroyed.
Plopping her hand into his strong grip, she let him slip the diamond-studded ring onto her finger. The string of jewels sparkled as they slid to the side of the huge diamond engagement ring. The one whose beauty had taken her breath away.