Excerpt from:  Long-Lost Bride

"If it doesn’t matter, then the mask stays," she said. "You decide. Are you willing to marry, sight unseen?"

Aw, hell. He carefully disengaged their fingers. "You’re asking me to take a lot on faith."

"You’re not a man with a lot of faith, are you?"

"Not a scrap."

"What happened?" she asked with the sort of kindness he couldn’t handle, the sort of kindness he didn’t deserve.

"I lost it long ago."

"Perhaps someday you’ll find it again."

"If that’s what you’re holding out for, you’re going to be sorely disappointed." He straightened, towering over her, and thumped his index finger on the linen-covered surface for emphasis. "I’m offering you a house. I’m offering you a warm bed. The closest you’ll get to faith is that I’ll remain true to our marriage vows for as long as they legally last. And I’ll see that you don’t want for anything it’s within my power to give. Take it or leave it."

"Just don’t expect love?"

"Not a chance in hell."

Her mouth drew together as she weighed his statement, gathering into an unconscious half-kiss that proved a gut-tightening temptation. If she hadn’t chosen that moment to speak, he’d have leaned down again and sampled those rosy lips to see if they tasted as luscious as they appeared. "Why should I agree to that sort of a marriage?"

"Frankly, I can’t think of a single damned reason." He picked up his coffee cup and downed the contents. Studying the dregs, he considered his words. "Look... I came here to find a wife." He set the mug on the table with a finality she couldn’t mistake. "I’ve given you my reasons and I’ve been honest about what I can offer in return. Brutally honest. If what I’m selling doesn’t coincide with what you’re buying, tell me now. There’s still time to find new partners."

She stood, as well. "I’m not interested in finding someone else."

"You sure?" Chaz regarded her with unflinching deliberation, allowing just a hint of his annoyance to spill into his gaze. She’d pushed him as far as he intended to be pushed. If she didn’t back off soon, he’d take a walk and scout the area for an alternate bride. "I’m not in the mood for games."

"Neither am I."

"I think this might be a good time to take our discussion someplace more private. There’s a small balcony on one side of the garden. It’s probably off-limits, but I’m willing to risk it, if you are." He held out his hand, palm up—a hand that mirrored its owner, work-roughened and callused into painful hardness. "Would you mind if we go there?"

Shayne stilled. She remembered that balcony all too well. That’s where she’d first met Chaz. He’d appeared in the garden beneath and, spying her, had done a very poor imitation of Romeo, spouting an amusing "cowboy" version of Shakespeare. And then he’d come after her, scoffing at the circular staircase hidden behind the bushes and instead climbing the trellis adjacent to the balcony. One look into laughter-filled blue eyes set above a cocky grin and she’d been lost. He’d vaulted over the wrought-iron railing and captured her heart the same instant he’d captured her lips. They’d talked for hours, planning a dream-life that on the stroke of midnight they’d turned into a reality by speaking vows she’d kept to this day.

She inclined her head, ignoring the clamor of protest issued from silver-voiced bells. "The balcony sounds perfect."

He led the way into the garden, finding the steps concealed behind the shrubbery with unerring accuracy. She preceded him without a word, afraid if she spoke, she’d give herself away. Did he even realize that behind the French doors at the top of the stairway he’d find the bedroom she’d used whenever she and Rafe visited the Montagues on business? Of course, the bed and furniture were now draped in dust covers, the room as asleep as she’d been all these years.

"Okay, honey. I’m willing to take you sight-unseen. But there’s one important aspect of our relationship we have to explore before we make a final commitment."

"Is that why you brought me here?"

"Yes."

"So we’d have some privacy?"

"Yes."

She refused to be coy. "Privacy to make love."

He didn’t back down beneath her direct gaze. "We need to know for sure. It’s an important aspect of a marriage."

The sex had to be good, but wasn’t to involve emotions. Didn’t he see how wrong that was? "And if we’re not compatible?"

"We reconsider."

The bells on her mask issued a quick, urgent warning. "I’m nervous, Chaz," she confessed. "Is that so surprising?"

His eyes were black in the darkness of the night, the distant fairy lights strung through the garden not enough to touch them with color. He turned and leaned against the railing, folding his hands along the top and stared out at the starlit night. She saw his gaze drift past the fanciful gardens and outward toward the stark, uncompromising landscape of the desert. The full moon washed down, blessing it with softness. But the night’s shadows cut across the silvery light in hard, harsh strokes, giving lie to the pastoral gentleness. It was a fitting match for the man at her side.

"I noticed you when you first arrived," he said after a bit. "You didn’t know that, did you?"

Alarm filled her. Had he seen her unmasked? "When I first arrived?"

"A few minutes before you danced with Sotherland. You came down the steps into the ballroom. Your mask hides a lot, but it didn’t hide your eagerness, your impatience to join the party."

To find him, she almost corrected. "And?"

"Before you could reach your goal, a rather elderly man stopped you."

She remembered. "He’d twisted his ankle and needed help."

"You helped him."

"That impressed you?" she asked in disbelief. "Anyone would have done the same. It’s common decency."

"No one had helped him until you arrived." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "He wasn’t the only one, either. There was a young girl sitting by herself, practically in tears. You must have talked to her for ten whole minutes."

"She reminded me of someone I once knew," Shayne admitted.

"You sent her home, didn’t you?"

"She didn’t belong. She’d only come because she wanted to escape her home life. I suggested some alternate ways she could accomplish that without marrying a perfect stranger."

"Unlike you?"

The question hit home. "I’m not eighteen, nor am I trying to escape an unhappy home life."

"What are you trying to escape?"

"Nothing." She took a deep breath, struggling to open herself to him. Once upon a time, she’d have shared her innermost thoughts and feelings with ease. But over the years, she’d become more cautious. "I’m not trying to escape anything, Chaz. I’m trying to find something."

Tension built along his shoulders and tautened his spine. "Find what?"

Respite from the past. A love she’d lost long ago. "My future."

"And you think that future’s with me?"

"I haven’t decided, yet," she admitted with perfect candor.

"If you’re looking for some sort of fairy tale romance, you’re talking to the wrong man. I’m not interested in love. I’m after someone who’s interested in a practical relationship, who’s willing to help create a home. A woman with a sense of humor and a generous spirit who’ll stick by me when life gets tough." He turned and faced her. "Are you that woman?"

"Let me get this straight. I can share a life with you, but not love?"

"Not unless you want a world full of hurt."

"And that’s supposed to induce me to marry you?"

"No. That’s supposed to make you think long and hard. Are you in the market for practical or are you Cinderella waiting for the prince? Fantasy or reality?"

Didn’t Chaz realize? He was that prince, their hearts and souls joined on a fateful night nine impossibly long years ago. He might regret ever having met her, but what they’d shared had been special. She refused to believe otherwise. Their joining had been a delicious combination of fantasy and reality. Otherwise, the feelings would have faded over time, only brought to mind on rare occasions, to be examined unemotionally with a sigh of regret or a smile of distantly remembered pleasure.

She faced him, feeling impossibly small and fragile beside his indomitable strength. She had to win this battle of wills. There was no other choice. She had to make him believe in dreams again. "Why don’t you kiss me, Chaz, and we’ll see whether it’s fantasy or reality."

Something dark and powerful moved in his gaze. "All right, sweetheart. Have it your way." His words were pragmatic enough, but the tone told her something far different. It warned of a man fully roused, a man who took what he wanted, no quarter given. "Let me prove that it isn’t Prince Charming you’re kissing, but the real thing."

"Or perhaps it’ll be a little of both."

"Don’t fool yourself, darlin’." He captured her in his arms, his hands strong and firm on her back. Then they slid to her hips, settling on the gentle swell flaring beneath her narrow waist. "I intend to see to it that you go into this marriage with your eyes wide open."

"They’re open."

"Keep them that way."

Reaching up, he ripped off his mask, revealing the features that had haunted her memory all these years. The boyishness had given way to leaner angles, emphasizing his blade-straight nose and cheekbones set at an interesting slant. His mouth was broad, the lips wide enough to be considered sensuous, yet decidedly masculine. And his chin warned of a man set in his way. But his eyes... His eyes held her, drew her in, denying the coldness of his words. Somewhere behind the barriers of pain, buried beneath years of denial, lay a heart capable of a love so deep, so indomitable, she’d do anything to find it again.

As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, he reached for her mask. "Still intent on keeping this on?"

"Please, don’t!" She evaded his hand with a quick twist that stirred her bells to life. She had no choice but to hide her face. Any chance of establishing a relationship with him would end the instant he saw who she was.

Chaz reacted without thought. She shouldn’t have run. The primeval urge to hunt forced him to gave chase. He couldn’t explain what ancient cravings drove him—whether it was the mystery of her features, or the fleet grace of her movements, or the generous womanly curves set in a dainty frame. Perhaps it was something far more basic, man scenting a woman’s desire. All he knew was he had to have her. Now.

She paused mid-flight, trapped by the railing, and spun to face him. Her gown belled out around her and he could hear the nervous give and take of her breath. For a long moment, she stared at him. And then her arms dropped to her sides in unconditional surrender. She was his for the taking and they both knew it.

He offered his hand and she pleased him by slipping willingly into his embrace. She was a contradiction that enticed, her pale hair bound into repressive order at the nape of her neck, while her dark eyes warned of an intensely passionate nature.

"Will you let me keep my mask on?" she asked.

"Keep it, if it’s important to you. But if I can’t see you, at least let me taste you."

Her eyes fluttered closed, eyes that haunted him in unsettling and unexpected ways. "Chaz..."

Her whisper was sheer temptation, a siren’s call pitched to beguile even as it pleaded for his seduction. Her breath mingled with his, the honeyed warmth pulling him closer, demanding that he sample the lush flavor. He wanted to take her mouth, hot and fast. Instead, he drove them both insane with slow and thorough.

Related Salvatore Books:

Who's Holding the Baby?    (Luc and Pietro's story)

Bridegroom on Approval   (Marco's story)

The Bride's Proposition    (Stefano's story)

The Baby Gift    (Alessandro's story)

 

Related Fairytale Wedding Books:

Temporary Husband

Accidental Wife

Shotgun Marriage

Bridegroom on Approval

Long-Lost Bride

 

This book was a:

• Winner of 2000 Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, Short Contemporary Category.
• Winner of 2000 First Coast RWA The Beacon Published Author Award, Traditional Category.
• Finalist for 2000 Virginia Romance Writers HOLT Medallion Award, Traditional Category.
• 3rd Place in Sooner Area Rising Star Award, Traditional Category.

 From the book:

LONG-LOST BRIDE

by Day Leclaire

Book 2, Fairytale Weddings Duet

0-373-03579-9

Harlequin Romance #3579–December ’99

Praise for Day Leclaire’s Fairytale Wedding series: Day Leclaire starts off the holiday season with a keeper called LONG-LOST BRIDE (4.5). After nine years of separation, an estranged couple reunite at the same ball that originally brought them together. But with so many years of bitterness between them, can they regain what they should never have lost in the first place? Ms. Leclaire’s latest gem overflows with deeply touching emotional scenes as well as engaging characters and strong chemistry." Shannon Short, Romantic Times Reviewer

Copyright © 1999 by Day Leclaire.  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.  For more romance information surf to:  http://www.eharlequin.com