A Bride's Tangled Vows

From behind her, Canton’s voice rang clear. “It’s early still. We can go down to the probate judge’s office now and get the paperwork started. You can be married within a week.”

Nolen frowned back at the lawyer, his glower making her feel cared for, protected. It was a rare occurrence for her—she was used to being the protector—making it that much more appreciated. Her heart swelled, aching with love and worry of her own. She slowly shook her head as she turned to face the men. “I need to think. Some time to think.” She struggled to clear her clouded thoughts. “And I need to check on Lily.”

“She’s fine with Nicole,” Nolen said, extending his elbow so she could take his arm. Old-fashioned to the core. Her muscles relaxed; her smile appeared. He smiled back. “But we’ll stop by if it will ease your mind.”

Resigning herself to his help because she knew it would soothe his concern, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. They crossed the landing to the other suite of rooms on the second floor. With a deep breath, Christina paused to look back over her shoulder. “Aiden, will you come see Lily?”

He watched her from several feet away, hooded lids at half-mast, hiding the only thing that would showcase his emotions. “Later,” he said, short and definitely not sweet. But his still features didn’t tell her whether he simply couldn’t face his mother or simply didn’t care. He turned to Canton. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve looked over those papers and talked to my own lawyer.”

With a short nod, Canton moved to the stairs and started down. Aiden followed, his stiff back forcefully cutting off any approach.

Nolen harrumphed in disapproval, but Christina ignored him. Maybe she was imagining the loneliness in that brief look from Aiden, but he seemed cloaked in an aura of solitude. With a quiet knock, Nolen let them into Lily’s suite, leaving the mystery of Aiden behind her.

Here, filtered sunlight illuminated lavender-flowered wallpaper and a slightly darker carpet, the soft decor far removed from the oppressive majesty of the opposite suite. The tranquility soothed Christina’s shaky nerves. They passed through a sitting room with the television turned low to the sleeping area beyond.

Nicole, the housekeeper’s grandniece, sat in the overstuffed chair by the adjustable bed James had specially ordered. She looked up from the thick nursing textbook in her lap.

“Come to check on her?” Nicole asked.

Christina nodded. “How’s she doing?”

“Oh, the storm did neither of us any good, but after I did her exercises, she settled right down.” Nicole flashed a toothy smile, bright against her tanned skin. “Her vitals are normal, so she’s resting fine now. Still a little spooky, though, seeing her respond like that.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the stories nurses have about comatose patients. It’s a very interesting area of study.” Christina should know; she’d studied every case history, textbook explanation and word-of-mouth example she’d been able to get her hands on. The stroke damage had healed; still, Lily had not come back to them.

“You’re gonna make a wonderful nurse someday, Nicole,” Nolen said, beaming as if she were his own grandchild.

“Yes, you are,” Christina agreed. She’d encouraged Nicole from the moment the girl had come around asking questions about Christina’s duties. Now the young woman was a nursing student at the university forty minutes away and helped Christina with Lily on certain nights and weekends.

Christina went through the motions of checking Lily’s pulse while Nicole and Nolen quietly discussed some problems she’d had with her car this week.

Christina laid her hand on Lily’s forehead, noting the normal temperature, and scanned the monitors beeping nearby through habit. But there, the professionalism ended. She leaned closer to Lily’s ear.

“He’s home, Lily.” She sighed. “He doesn’t like it, but for now, he’s here. I’ll bring him to see you soon.”

There was no indication that Lily had heard, just the beeps of the monitors. Lily’s thin, pale features never moved; her eyes never opened. But Christina had to believe she was happy to know her son was back under Blackstone Manor’s roof. She wouldn’t be happy about her father’s machinations, though. To force two people to marry... Christina shivered as she remembered the feel of Aiden’s intense gaze penetrating the thin veneer with which she protected her emotions.

The housekeeper’s arrival drew her from her thoughts. “So what’s this I hear about a wedding?” Marie asked, marching in, still dressed in the apron printed with the words “I make this kitchen hotter” the sixty-five-year-old wore whenever she knew James wouldn’t catch her.

Christina wanted to groan. How had the news spread through the house so fast? Sometimes she thought the staff had the place bugged.

“It’s more of a business agreement than a wedding,” Christina said, a slight wave of dizziness rushing over her at the thought. “If there is a wedding...” She wasn’t entirely sure Aiden would go through with it, once that hot streak of defiance cooled. Could she, if it gave her the legal right to protect Lily?

But she couldn’t share a bed with him. Surely, they could get around that part....

“It’s unnatural, is what it is,” Nolen interjected. “Two strangers entering into something as sacred as marriage.”

“And those words of wisdom brought to you by a lifelong bachelor.” Marie grinned. “Besides, they aren’t strangers. They’ve known each other since they were kids.”

There were flutters of panic in Christina’s chest as she remembered that last face-to-face meeting with a seventeen-year-old Aiden. She’d mooned over him from afar every time she came to visit Blackstone Manor. Sometimes the hope of seeing him had drawn her just as much as Lily’s company, but that day had taught her well how little he felt for her. Whenever she’d come near him, he’d demonstrated the same unpleasant endurance as her parents, who also looked at her as a pest that they wished would disappear. He’d called her invader many times over the years she’d hung around, aching for a bit of Lily’s attention. Yes, that was definitely how he’d seen her time here at Blackstone Manor. After that final rejection, she’d stayed as far away from Aiden Blackstone as possible.

Nolen wasn’t letting this go. “It is unnatural, I’m tellin’ you. This isn’t a good thing. James is manipulating them, and Aiden, his own grandson, into marrying for his own damnable purposes.”

“And what purposes would those be?” Marie asked, her hands going to her hips.

Christina’s mouth was already open, but Nolen spoke first. “Building some god-awful legacy. As if he hasn’t introduced enough unpleasantness into this world. He threatened his own daughter if they didn’t do what he wanted.”

“Oh, I bet that’s all talk.” Marie looked sideways at Christina with a worried frown pulling all her wrinkles in a southern direction. “Is this true? Is he forcing you into something you don’t want?”

This was getting way out of hand—and way more personal than Christina wanted. “No. I volunteered. And nothing has been decided yet.” But I will take care of Lily—and all of you.

Marie went on, her frown softening a little. “Maybe our Christina is exactly what Aiden needs right now. These things happen for a reason, I do believe.”

Christina’s heart melted with Marie’s sugar-scented hug, but she doubted anything she did would soften the hardened heart of the Blackstone heir.

“You never know what might happen in a year,” Marie said with a sly smile. “Besides, family takes care of their own. She’ll be fine here with us.”

This conversation was almost unbelievable. If Christina hadn’t been in James’s room, she wouldn’t have believed the situation herself.

Christina’s mind echoed with Marie’s words. A year was a short time in some ways, a long time in others. Would she come out on the other side whole? Or with a broken heart to go with her divorce decree?

As long as Lily and the rest of her family were safe and cared for, it would be worth it for Christina. Marie was right. These people were her family, as close as she’d come to having one since her parents had divorced when she was eight. Who was she kidding? Her family had never been real.

As a child, Christina’s sole purpose in life had been as a pawn in her mother’s strategy to extort more and more money from her father. That’s where Christina had learned what two-faced meant—her mother all lovey-dovey when Dad showed up, abandoning her at her society friends’ houses when she was no longer useful. A hard lesson, but Christina had learned it well.

She’d promised herself when she’d turned eighteen that she’d never go back to that kind of situation; never again have no value outside of what she could do for another.

So was she truly willing to become James Blackstone’s pawn?

* * *

“When are you heading back? That Zabinski woman is killing me.”

He didn’t want to think about Ellen Zabinski right now. He had enough problems on his hands. After a solid twenty-four hours of thinking, Aiden knew what he had to do. He still didn’t want to, but this choice was inevitable.

“I’m not.”

The dead silence would have been amusing if Aiden wasn’t in such a bind. His assistant Trisha’s silence was as rare as some of the art he imported. While he waited for her to recover, he paced across his bedroom to gaze out the back window. He compared the view of the lush country yard, the gentle sway of the grass and tree branches in the breeze, with the constant motion of the city. The very sereneness made him want to fall asleep. Not in a good way. Why would he consider uprooting his busy life, even if it was only for a few months?

A myriad of reasons not to do this rambled through his mind—work, taking a stand against his grandfather’s high-handedness, a lack of interest in the mill and a whole host of other things. Then his gaze fell on the chestnut-haired beauty strolling across the lawn to talk to the gardener. Christina smiled, stealing his breath. Her stride was sure, and those hips... As she spoke, her hands gestured with elegant grace to illustrate her words.

He should be worried about his mom—not her nurse. But as Christina looked up into the fifty-year-old weeping willow in the backyard, exposing the vulnerable skin of her throat, Aiden’s mouth watered.

When Trisha finally spoke again, her words were slow and measured. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say, I will be stuck cleaning up family business for a while.”

She wasn’t buying that. “How long can it take to get the ball rolling on the estate? He had a will, right? Why would that require you to be on-site?”