The Bride's Secrets. Debra Webb

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      She was in trouble. Obviously. Whatever it was about, she needed help. He couldn’t deny that singular fact.

      Nor could he deny another glaring fact.

      He couldn’t just walk away and pretend he no longer cared.

      He did care.

      Damn him.

      Mentally kicking himself for being a fool, he changed directions and strode up to the car waiting in the street. The sparse traffic glided around her, the other cars’ occupants likely assuming the two were in the midst of a lovers’ spat.

      He stopped at the passenger door and stared at her across the car’s roof. “Two hours,” he confirmed. “You have two hours to explain yourself, and then I’m gone.”

      She nodded, her blue eyes wide with worry. Her blond hair was still damp and clung to her face like tendrils of silk.

      He said nothing more. Got into the car.

      She settled behind the wheel and put the vehicle in Drive.

      “Where are we going?”

      She glanced at him before rolling forward. “Where we should have gone two weeks ago.”

      He frowned. Two weeks ago they would have gone on…

      Their honeymoon?