Borrowed Bride Read online

  She rubbed her scalp, doing her best to straighten the veil, which had slipped to one side. All the while tears spilled from her eyes in a silent stream that she couldn’t stop. Her captor had his back to her as he worked the rope to raise the ramp and slide it back into the van before reaching overhead to lower the door.

  Damn him, damn him, she thought, fear and anger twisting into one giant knot inside her. It was seeing the daylight disappear as he lowered the door, however, that propelled her forward in a panic.

  “No,” she cried just as the heavy metal door hit bottom with a thud, throwing them into complete darkness and making it hard for her to get her bearings. Two loud thumps followed, as if he was pounding on the van wall. It must have been some sort of preplanned signal, Gabrielle realized, as the van immediately began to move.

  She wasn’t expecting it, and the sudden motion landed her on her hands and knees.

  She heard his footsteps on the other side of the van.

  “Where are you?” he asked, his voice sounding clearer suddenly, as if he’d removed his helmet.

  His hand found her shoulder.

  Gabrielle twisted away from him and skittered backward. “Don’t touch me, you bastard.”

  “For God’s sake, Gabrielle...”

  He knew her name. She had been toying with the idea that this was some sort of impulsive joke on his part, that he had simply seen her on the church steps and given in to some innate impulse to act like a colossal jerk. However, the waiting van and now the fact that he knew who she was seemed to dispel that possibility and suggest something more ominous.

  “Where did you go?” he asked, moving again.

  She backed up until she was sitting against the wall. “I mean it, stay away from me.”

  He stumbled and cursed.

  Gabrielle smiled in the darkness. Good. She hoped he broke his rotten neck. She’d rather take her chances with the driver of the van, even if he was also in on the whole thing. Whoever it was couldn’t be any worse than the mad biker. Her ribs still hurt where he had crushed her to him during the ride there.

  “I want to know where you are,” he said, sounding as frustrated as she felt. “Quit playing games.”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh.”

  “What is?”

  “You, accusing me of playing games.”

  “Aren’t you? Playing hide-and-seek with the lights out.”

  He sounded much closer, and she cursed silently, realizing too late that she had been a fool to speak and let her voice lead him to her.

  “Who was the one who put out the lights?” she muttered, deciding that since he already knew where she was, there was no sense biting her tongue now. “Who started this little game in the first place?”

  “This isn’t a game, Gaby.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, alarmed by his suddenly soft tone and his use of the nickname reserved for close friends and family. She knew he had moved even closer now. She could smell him, his scent a blend of soap and leather, and she thought she might have even felt his breath on her skin. She stiffened, trying not to sound as scared as she felt. “You could have fooled me.”

  “I did,” he said.

  The raspy snap of a cigarette lighter being lit startled her. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light of the flame that was barely enough to illuminate the face of the man holding the lighter. It was more than enough, Gabrielle thought as she locked gazes with Connor DeWolfe, a man she hadn’t seen in nearly two years and would have preferred to never set eyes on again.

  “You,” she uttered, the word alone an accusation. “God, I should have known.”

  “Yeah, you probably should have,” he agreed, smiling that smile that every woman in the world except her seemed to find so damn irresistible. “I mean, how many other men do you know crazy enough to steal you from the church steps on your wedding day?”

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why did you do it?”

  “Why?” The smile slowly gave way to a bold, insolent grin she remembered all too well. “Well, because I’m as impatient as ever, I suppose. I just couldn’t stand to sit around the church waiting for the minister to get to the part about speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Chapter 2

  Connor DeWolfe, more commonly known to friend and foe alike as simply “Wolf,” lifted his thumb away from the lighter. The flame disappeared, leaving them in darkness once again. He preferred darkness to confronting the look in Gaby’s blue eyes. Hatred—that’s what he saw when she looked at him. The kind of hatred that he knew cut right to the bone.

  What did you expect? jeered a voice inside him. As far as Gabrielle Flanders was concerned, he’d been making her life hell in one way or another for years, had personally destroyed her first marriage and now had topped it all off this morning by busting up her wedding. Under the circumstances hatred seemed a pretty appropriate response. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t make it any easier for him to take, especially not when it was coming from this woman.

  “Put that lighter back on,” she ordered.

  “No. Burning it continuously uses up too much fuel, and we might need the light later.”

  “For what?”

  He scowled, impatiently shoving the lighter into his jacket pocket. “I can’t think of anything offhand, but it never hurts to play it safe.”

  “Ha. Come off it, DeWolfe, you’ve never played it safe in your life.” Her tone was riddled with contempt. “Why don’t you just admit that you don’t want any light because you’re afraid to look me in the eye?”

  Connor had the lighter back out of his pocket and lit in less than two seconds. He held it between them, meeting her gaze with steady defiance, until the metal grew hot enough to scorch his thumb.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” he said as he finally extinguished the flame.

  “Of course not,” she said. “My mistake. After all, it takes brains, or at least a modicum of common sense, to feel fear at the appropriate times.”

  “Ah, flattery. Is that your little way of saying ‘Welcome home’?”

  “Actually it’s more my way of saying ‘Go to hell.’”

  He sighed audibly. “It sure is nice to know that you’re the same honey-tongued angel as always.”

  “And you’re the same impulsive, ill-mannered, self-centered jerk.”

  “Now that we’ve caught up on old times,” he began, grateful that she couldn’t see the raw nerve struck by her assessment of him, accurate though it may be, “why don’t you try and relax? We’ll be riding back here for about an hour.”

  “An hour?” she echoed. The frantic note he’d detected a little earlier was back in her voice. “No, I can’t stay locked up in here for an hour. I have to get back to the church. I mean it, Connor, please. I don’t know what kind of stunt you think you’re pulling or whether you expect Adam to get a big laugh out of having you stealing the woman he’s about to marry right out from under his nose, but this time you’ve gone too far.”

  “It’s not a joke.”

  Her small laugh was strained. “What else could it be? What other possible reason could you have for kidnapping me?”

  “I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, irked by the very idea.

  “Then what would you call it?”

  Good question. Connor dragged his fingers through the dark hair he hadn’t bothered to have cut in months and rubbed his palm across his jaw as he thought it over. The contact with two days’ worth of black stubble made a rasping sound in the quiet van.

  “Borrowing,” he said finally. “I’d call it borrowing you for a while.”

  “Why?” she demanded, first feebly and then with a white-hot fury he really was in no mood to deal with. “Why, damn it?”

  Connor gritted his teeth in the darkness. Even if he had been ready to discuss it, her tone left no doubt that she wasn’t ready to listen.

  “I have my reasons,” he said simply.

  “Oh, what a relief. In that case I guess I will just tak
e your advice and sit back and relax. Silly me, all this time I’d been laboring under the misapprehension that you didn’t have a good reason for ruining my wedding, risking my life and probably scaring my family, including my five-year-old son, half to death. But as long as you have your reasons, then everything is just hunky-dory.” Silence. “You ass.”

  Connor lowered himself to the floor without replying and sat a short distance from her with his back against the wall, his long legs stretched in front of him. For a few minutes the only sounds were the hum of the big truck’s tires on the road and the persistent hiss of air where there was evidently a leak in the rubber seal around the door. He was beginning to think he might get real lucky and receive the silent treatment from her for the entire ride when Gaby spoke.

  “Will you at least tell me where you’re taking me?” she asked him.

  “No,” he replied.

  “Why on earth not? I think I have a right to know that much.”

  She sounded indignant and he didn’t blame her.

  “I can’t argue with that, Gaby. The fact is you have a right to a lot of things you can’t have. That’s just the way it has to be sometimes.”

  “No, it doesn’t have to be that way...it just seems to turn out that way whenever you’re involved.”

  She paused. Holding back, thought Connor, not saying what was really on her mind. Just as he was holding back, not saying a word about what was right there between them, what would always be there.

  When it became clear he wasn’t going to offer whatever she was waiting for—a reply, explanation, apology—she spoke again, her tone clipped and angry.

  “All right, then at least explain to me why you won’t tell me where we’re going.”

  He scowled. “Can’t you just wait and—” .

  “No. I can’t.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell you on one condition.”

  “What?” she replied, suspicion in her voice.

  “That after I tell you, you shut up for the rest of the way there.”

  “I’m not making any deals with you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  A minute passed. Connor couldn’t suppress an ironic smile. He could almost hear the wheels in her head spinning. How long did he have, he wondered, until she figured out that refusing his offer gained her nothing more than the satisfaction of refusing him?

  “All right,” she said at last. “Tell me.”

  “And if I do, then you’ll be quiet until—”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll be quiet,” she interrupted. “Tell me.”

  “The reason I won’t tell you where we’re headed is because I know you aren’t going to like it any more than you liked being snatched away from your wedding or being stuck here with me. So I just figured I’d make things a little easier on both of us by saving it all up and letting you bitch at me about everything at once. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “No, frankly. The only thing I want to hear from you is that this is all a mistake and that you’re going to turn around and take me back to the church as fast as you possibly can.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered.

  “Oh, I’m not. But I just want you—”

  “Remember our deal,” he broke in.

  “I remember,” she assured him. “But I have one final thing to say to you and I’m going to say it whether you want to hear it or not. I just want you to know that I hate you for doing this to me, Connor DeWolfe.”

  “You hated me anyway,” he reminded her quietly.

  “Yes, but now I’ll hate you forever.”

  Connor leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Forever. That sounded about right, like what he deserved. And he could deal with it. He had to. Under the circumstances what choice did he have?

  The ride to an out-of-the-way drop-off point in Connecticut took a little over an hour. When the van came to a stop, Connor quickly stood and raised the rear door. Just as quickly Gabrielle was on her feet beside him.

  He reached out and clasped her arm. “Hold on. I want your shoes.”

  She blinked at him in confusion as her eyes adjusted to the sudden infusion of sunlight. Her hair had come loose beneath her veil, making her look like a figure in a Renaissance painting. He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was and for a few seconds he just stared at her.

  “My shoes?” she said, drawing his full attention back to the moment at hand. “What on earth for?”

  “Just take them off.”

  “Forget it,” she snapped, trying to yank free. Beautiful and willful. He’d almost forgotten that, too.

  Tightening his grip on her, he bent to grab her foot with his free hand. “Suit yourself.”

  “Wait...what are you...? All right, I’ll take them off.” She clung to his back in an attempt to stay upright as he lifted her foot off the floor. “Connor, stop, I said I’ll take...”

  “Too late,” he told her, pulling the shoe from her right foot before releasing it. “You’ll learn,” he continued, getting a firm grip on her left foot, “that I only give an order once.”

  “An order? Of all the...” Again she struggled to get free. There was no way he was going to let her go, however, and when she inevitably lost her balance he went down with her rather than give in.

  They both ended up on their butts with their legs entangled and her dress hiked up high enough to expose the lacy garter belt holding up her stockings, as well as lots of bare thigh in between the two. Connor was transfixed. He knew he shouldn’t stare, but he couldn’t look away any more than he could have given in and let her win a few seconds ago. Self-denial just wasn’t his forte.

  “Now are you satisfied?” she demanded, glaring at him.

  “Not quite,” he replied, his tone dry as he slipped the shoe off her left foot and shoved it into his jacket pocket along with its mate. “There. That’s much better.”

  He lifted his leg off hers, freeing her, and she immediately scrambled to her feet, tugging her dress down as she went.

  “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” he asked, standing beside her by the open door.

  “As if you care.”

  “Believe it or not, I do. Very much, in fact.”

  “Well, you sure could have fooled me. After all a few scrapes are nothing compared to what’s going on inside me, worrying about what all those people back at the church are thinking, what my poor mother is thinking, not to mention Toby and how he must...” She broke off abruptly and bit down on her bottom lip.

  Connor steeled himself to the sight of her pain. He’d known going into this what he would be up against and that there would be no turning back. Not unless he wanted to risk letting her be hurt even worse, and that he wouldn’t do. Not if it killed him. He’d screwed up once and Gabrielle had paid the price. Never again.

  “There’s a phone right over there,” he told her, pointing in the direction of a phone booth by the side of the two-lane road. It was the only thing in sight for as far as they could see. It was the reason he had arranged to be dropped off there in the first place. “I’ll let you call home and tell them you’re all right, but you have to say exactly what I tell you to say. Nothing else.”

  She spun to face him, her eyes flashing like dark sapphires. “Why?”

  “Because I said so, that’s why.”

  “Oh, I see, the same reason I had to give you my shoes.”

  “I took your shoes so you won’t go running off the second I turn my back to get the bike out of here.”

  “What’s the matter, Connor?” she taunted. “Afraid your hostage might escape?”

  “For God’s sake, Gaby, for the last time, you are not a hostage. And if you’ll shut up for a second and look around, you’ll see there’s nowhere for you to escape to. If you take off, I’ll chase you down in a few minutes. I just don’t want you to go hurting yourself trying to run in those stupid pink shoes.”

  “Apricot.”

  “What?”

  “They’re not pink, they’r
e apricot. Iced Apricot, to be precise.”

  “I see. Well, whatever color they are, the heels are still ridiculous, and you probably would have broken your ankle before you got twenty yards.”

  She sniffed and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

  Deciding that was probably as close to concession as he could hope for, Connor went to work lowering the ramp and rolling the motorcycle out to the street. He turned to offer her a hand, which she of course refused, choosing to pick her way down the ramp in her stocking feet.

  He was closing the door behind them when he noticed her bouquet tossed in the corner of the van and hoisted himself back inside to retrieve it.

  He handed it to her and got a brittle “thanks” for his trouble.

  “You’re welcome.” He took a step toward the cab of the truck to thank his buddy behind the wheel for the lift and tell him he owed him one, then hesitated and turned back to her. “And, Gaby, for what it’s worth, you looked really beautiful standing out in front of that church.”

  She glanced sullenly at the hole in the toe of one stocking and the black grease stains along the hem of her rumpled dress. “You got that right. Looked. Past tense.”

  He shrugged, turning away quickly before he lost control and smiled. He couldn’t help it. The bouquet had been a kind of reality check, reminding him all over again of why she’d been at the church in the first place and the obvious fact that she had worn that garter belt to please his old friend Adam on what was to have been their wedding night. Maybe it would turn out that he was wrong about Adam, wrong about everything, and that he himself was exactly what Gaby accused him of being, an impulsive jerk.

  Maybe. In the meantime Connor wasn’t sure what to make of the unexpected feelings being churned up inside him by thoughts of her with Adam. He only knew that it pleased him royally that he and not Adam had been the one to see how beautiful she looked in her iced apricot garter belt and stockings.

  Iced apricot. The words stuck in his head as he thanked his friend and watched the van pull away. Although he could never have come up with so poetic a description on his own, he was astute enough to see how well it suited Gaby. Her smooth skin sort of reminded him of ripe apricots. And there was no question that her manner where he was concerned was definitely icy.