The Forbidden Bride-To-Be. Kathryn Taylor
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his comments and questions were in contrast to what Damon had told her. Why would his brother lie to his fiancée? Or, more important, to his accomplice?
“Good night,” she called over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs.
Once she reached the top landing, Sophie darted down the hall to her room. Damn Damon and the awkward position he had put her in! She let out a groan. Face it, Sophie. You’re the one who’s pretending to be somebody you’re not.
Perhaps a look into the cards would help, she decided, as she reached for the silk pouch on the dresser. She untied the ribbon and removed her tarot cards. Her mother had presented her with the deck on her eighteenth birthday. A piece of her past to guide her future. While she absently shuffled, she tried to formulate a question in her mind.
Do I have reason to worry about my actions?
She sat cross-legged on the bed and dealt out ten cards in a semicircle. Each of the first nine cards represented the influence going on around her and the last, her answer. She flipped over the first one and let out a nervous laugh. The Four of Wands. An interlude with a man. She didn’t need the tarot to tell her that. What kind of interlude? Next, she turned the Ten of Cups, upside down, which symbolized a betrayal. Damon? Or Alex? The cards weren’t clear.
The Two of Wands, meant to indicate her fears, pointed to the lord of the manor. A chill ran along her spine. Alex was definitely at the root of her fears, but she didn’t know why. Having a serious case of the hots for a man wasn’t lethal as long as she kept her head clear.
The rest of the reading wasn’t any more encouraging than the beginning. The cards predicted an upheaval in her entire way of life. The sooner she left The Sanctuary, the better.
A sharp knock on her door gave Sophie a start. She scooped the deck back into a neat pile. “It’s open,” she called out.
Damon sauntered inside. “Hey, Soph, you finally rose from the dead.”
She shot him an icy glare. “With no help from you. Why didn’t you wake me for dinner?”
He eyed her as if she was crazy. “I’ve called you in the morning. I know what you’re like when you wake up.”
“Okay. That’s fair,” she grumbled. “So, did you speak with your mother?”
He leaned against the rolltop desk and grinned. “She’s not happy. Kept trying to introduce me to suitable girls from the club, but I told her it was you or no one.”
“Good.” She slipped off the bed and took a seat by the window. “Because your brother doesn’t seem all that opposed to this marriage.”
“Stepbrother,” Damon corrected.
“Funny. Alex never makes that distinction.”
“He might say he doesn’t care, but give him a few days. He’ll change his tune. He won’t be able to resist the opportunity to blow something he thinks I want.”
She raised her head. “And you plan to convince him you couldn’t live without me by leaving me alone and going off to the club on your first night here?”
“Are you mad at me? I thought you hated places like that.”
“I do. And I’m not mad. I’m just questioning your methods. He already suspects something’s not right.”
“Even better. He’ll think you’re after my money.”
“Oh, great.” she let out on a frustrated exhale of breath. “Being unorthodox isn’t enough. I have to be a social-climbing weirdo. I thought I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t like lying.” At least, not to Alex.
“Let me ease your conscience.” He dropped to one knee. “Sophie Anders, will you marry me? There, I proposed. Now you’re not lying.”
“And you’d bolt like lightning if I said yes.”
He chuckled. “After I stopped laughing. You want to get married even less than I do. That’s one of the main reasons I asked you to help me.”
“That, and I’m the strangest person you know.”
“True.” He stood up and brushed the wrinkles from his designer jeans. “Who else would spend her vacation traveling with a carnival?”
“I was visiting my mother,” she corrected with a defiant lift of her chin.
“And reading tarot cards on the side,” he reminded her.
She waved an accusing finger at him. “It paid better than you did.”
“I give up.” He paced around the room. “So, what did you do while I was out?”
“Visited the stables.”
“Passed the time with Alex, huh?”
She drew her brows together. “Why would you say that?”
“He’s always with those horses when he’s home. I’m surprised he doesn’t sleep in a stall.” Damon grimaced in distaste. “So, what did you talk about?”
“Check your ego. We talked more about the horses than we did about you.” She nestled herself into the window seat and gazed at the glittering sky. At night, when she couldn’t see the wall, the place didn’t seem so bad. “Alex said I was welcome to ride while I was here.”
“Good. Then I don’t feel so bad that I signed up for a racquetball tournament at the club for the next couple of days.”
“You wouldn’t have felt bad anyway.”
“You’re right.” He gave her a boyish grin, then saluted as he left the room. She didn’t return the smile.
Strange. The very qualities she had once admired in Damon weren’t quite so endearing anymore. He could be funny, charming—the life of any party. As long as he got what he wanted and didn’t have to give of himself in return. More unsettling was the realization that she could easily become like him if she continued with her current life-style.
Three
Sophie hovered just outside the dining room door. The aroma of cinnamon hung in the air. She had been awake for nearly three hours, waiting for Damon and his mother to get up. She understood that the family was on vacation, but sleeping in until almost noon blew the best part of the day. Taking a deep breath for courage, she entered the room. The conversation came to an abrupt end.
Damon smiled and rose. “Mother, this is Sophie.”
Sophie glanced at Elaine Sinclair. Not a platinum hair was out of place. Her makeup, applied to perfection, and her tailored suit gave the impression of a much younger woman than Sophie had expected. Where was the matronly housewife who longed for grandchildren that Damon had described?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sophie offered her hand to the older woman.
“I’m sure.” Elaine barely made contact before withdrawing her fingers. She gave a disinterested glance at Sophie’s appearance.
Her outfit—a pair of denim shorts, a white halter top and a sweatshirt tied around her waist—had seemed appropriate vacation wear when she’d dressed. Who knew that breakfast attire was formal at The Sanctuary? Even Damon had worn a silk shirt and tie. Tucking her bare feet beneath her, she settled into a Windsor chair next to Damon. The maid served a cup of tea and left a small basket of croissants in front of her plate. She picked off the edge of the flaky bread and popped it in her mouth.
“Where are your people from?” Elaine asked casually, but there was nothing casual about the icy glare she shot Sophie.
Sophie brushed the hair off her shoulder. “Originally or currently?”
“Currently.”
“My mother is somewhere around Kansas right now. She’s...on tour.”
“An