Wedding Captives. Cassie Miles
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stories high with a peaked Tudor-style roof above a stone Gothic entranceway. The mismatched architectural theme also included castellated battlements to mark the parapets and a minaret-style gatekeeper’s house by the front doorway. Some of the windows were arched, others were square. The mishmash of designs might have come from flipping through a Lifestyles of the Eccentric Rich and Famous catalog and choosing something from each page. “I wonder if the original structure was added to.”
“It seems likely,” Dr. Mona said. “Parts of it look Romanesque. Others are definitely Tudor.”
“I don’t care for the gargoyles,” the reverend said.
There was no chance to question Lawrence about the design. He was far ahead, chugging steadily up the hill toward an entrance behind the octagonal tower. Travis stayed close behind him, apparently unimpressed by his first up-close-and-personal view of the castle.
As they came closer to the entrance, the outdoor lights blazed to life, illuminating the stone walls.
“Wow!” Spotlights shining up from the ground gave the illusion that the massive structure was magically floating above the snow-covered cliffs.
“Must be somebody home,” Spence said, “to turn on the lights.”
“Of course,” Thea said. Yet, an aura of stillness clung to the granite walls as if the castle were an empty stage waiting for the players to enter and speak their lines.
Lawrence unlocked and opened a humble door beside a loading dock, and Travis bellowed, “Jenny! Get your booty down here, sis!”
Her booty? Thea forced a grin, trying to be tolerant. The slangy attitude of Jenny’s brother reminded her of her eighth-grade students. Though Travis had to be in his late twenties, he seemed like a kid—irresponsible and not a little bit wild.
Thea hiked the last steps to the side entrance and stepped inside a long coatroom with no windows. At the far end a ski rack housed several pairs of skis and boots in a various sizes. Along the adjoining paneled wall, wooden pegs served as hooks between several closet doors. There were even lockers. It all seemed odd to her, like a chalet at some ski resort.
Through an open door, she heard Lawrence exclaiming, “Utterly unacceptable!”
Thea, Spence, Mona and the reverend dropped their luggage and went toward the sound of Lawrence’s voice into a huge kitchen. Stainless-steel appliances shone amidst an array of marble countertops and butcher blocks. A giant hanging rack displayed copper pots and kettles. Though Thea wasn’t much of a cook, the kitchen impressed her.
“No one is here.” Lawrence emphatically stated the obvious. “No chef. No waitpersons. No one.”
Mona pulled open the door to a double-wide refrigerator which was packed with food. “At least there seems to be ample provisions.”
Disdainfully, Lawrence sneered, “I certainly hope I won’t be expected to prepare the meals.”
“Where’s Travis?” Spence asked.
Lawrence pointed toward a door at the far corner of the kitchen. “That’s the servants’ stairwell up to the bridal suite. He went to look for Jenny.”
“I think I’ll join them,” Thea said. She really couldn’t wait to see Jenny, and it seemed like the next logical thing to do. “I’m sure Jenny can tell us where the rest of the staff is hiding.”
Without invitation, Spence followed her into a narrow wooden stairwell that ascended in a sharp zigzag pattern. Every few feet, a single bare lightbulb, attached to the wall and encased in a wire cage, cast their shadows against stone and mortar walls.
“Watch your step,” Spence advised. “These stairs are worn unevenly.”
“Apparently,” she said, trying to focus her attentions elsewhere, and not on the fact that she was quite alone with Spence, “the lord of the castle didn’t believe in spending much money on servants.”
He looked upward. “I don’t see how they carried trays up this staircase.”
“Dumbwaiter,” she said. Her voice echoed in the vertical passageway. “There has to be a dumbwaiter.”
Their conversation seemed innocent enough, but Thea felt a growing sense of apprehension partially caused by her sudden seclusion with Spence and partially because Jenny’s failure to appear felt ominous.
“I can’t imagine Jenny wasn’t waiting for us. She knew when we’d be gathered below, when we’d get here. Do you think there’s something wrong? Something…” she hesitated without warning on the stair and swallowed hard. “I don’t know…not quite right about all this?”
Spence had to step back down to avoid overtaking her. “Travis must have found his sister, don’t you think? Otherwise, he’d be yelling his head off.”
Thea straightened. “I’m sure you’re right.” She was worrying needlessly, still trembling with aftershocks from her panic attack in the gondola car.
They paused on a small landing outside a closed door.
“This is only the second floor,” Spence said. “I think we need to go one higher.”
Enclosed by solid stone walls, they were completely isolated from the others. Spence was surely right that Travis had found Jenny, and there wasn’t going to be a better time than this for a private conversation.
She faced Spence. Until now, she hadn’t noticed that he’d shed his parka. His teal-blue turtleneck emphasized the blue in his eyes and outlined the breadth of his shoulders. “Spence, we need to talk.”
Even in the dim light, she saw his frown. Like most men, Spence had never been fond of relationship discussions—not that they had a relationship anymore. She opened her mouth and took a bite out of the silence. “This is probably the most important weekend of Jenny’s life—”
“Agreed,” he said. His eyes bore into hers.
Her chin went up. “I don’t want to do anything to make it unpleasant for her.”
“Of course not. So?”
“So, you and I need to set some boundaries with each other.”
“Such as?”
“Let’s start with the basic premise that I’m not prepared to forgive and forget, Spence. There is absolutely no way we’ll ever again be involved. Not ever.” Though she’d kept her voice quiet, a resonating echo stirred the air, underscoring the finality of her words. “Is that understood?”
“I understand. Perfectly,” he added. “I just don’t believe you.”
She scowled. “Do you think I can’t resist you?”
“No,” he responded quickly. “But I don’t accept the concept of ‘never.’ It’s simple biology, Thea. All living things are constantly changing, transforming. We get better or we get worse, but we seldom stay the same.”
If he’d been anyone else, she would have applauded his observation. As a teacher of adolescents, she had to believe in the potential of human development. But the man who stood before her wasn’t one of her difficult students. He was her former fiancé, the individual who had humiliated her and single-handedly shattered important professional goals. Vital goals. She drew on a vast reservoir of bitterness for lost opportunities before speaking. “Trust me, Spence. My attitude toward you is rock-solid, and—”
“But,” he interrupted, “in an hour, you might feel different.”
“Differently.”
“Yes.” As if she had agreed she might, he nodded.
She wanted to stamp her foot. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m serious, Spence.”
He planted a hand on the stone-and-mortar wall high above her. “I know you are, Thea.”
“I’m