Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Epilogue

      One

      She didn’t love him.

      She wasn’t sure she even liked him.

      Yet, within minutes she would become his wife.

      Having slipped away unnoticed by her attendants, Isabelle Fortune stood in the vestibule with her fingers clutched tightly around her bridal bouquet, her nose pressed against the sanctuary door’s tiny window, watching her fiancé enter the sanctuary through the side door and walk toward the altar. Dressed in black tails and wearing a confident smile, Brad Rowan looked very much the part of the eager groom.

      And Isabelle felt like a lamb being led to slaughter.

      With a shudder, she forced her gaze away from Brad and to the pews already crowded with family and friends. More than a thousand engraved wedding invitations had been mailed, and it appeared that not a one of the recipients had sent their regrets. Not that she was surprised. When the Fortunes threw a party, no matter what the occasion, all of Pueblo turned out for the event, knowing that the Fortunes would spare no expense.

      And they wouldn’t be disappointed this time, either. The caterers her parents had hired had worked frantically for days, preparing the succulent hors d’oeuvres, entrées and desserts for the wedding reception, while a crew of workers readied the grounds of the Fortune estate for the outdoor gala, already touted as the social event of the year. A new marble fountain flown in from Italy had been installed in the swimming pool, and the gardens had been pruned and filled with a colorful array of flowering plants. White canvas canopies dotted the sprawling lawn, and a portable dance floor and a stage for the orchestra had been constructed beneath the largest of the tents.

      No, the Fortunes had spared no expense in marrying off their only daughter.

      A knot of dread formed in Isabelle’s stomach as she slowly scanned the ornately decorated church illuminated by hundreds of flickering candles, a glimmering reminder of the money invested in this day. Tall, slender tapers stood on the ledges of the windows, bringing to life the scenes depicted on the etched stained glass. Behind the altar, a dozen gracefully curved silver candelabra pedestals held even more of the slender tapers, while towering, fat columns of wax rose from the ropes of ivy on the altar’s railing.

      Mesmerized by the flickering candles, she stared, the dread twisting tighter and tighter, until Brad stepped into her line of vision again, making her flinch. She watched him stop in front of the altar and take his place to the right of the priest, her fingers convulsing on the ribbon-wrapped