The Bride Who Was Stolen In The Night. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ album and wished that she could have known Chayce’s mother, who had died when he was only nine years old. She had a pretty face and Becky said that Chayce’s father had loved her beyond bearing, that her death had turned him into a bitter alcoholic who took out his grief on his only child. Poor Chayce. His life had been no bed of roses, either. In his way, he was afraid of love. It had been cruel to him.

      “Abby!” Becky called from the top of the staircase. “Troy’s here!”

      “I’ll be right down!” she called back, not wanting Troy up here, where memories of Chayce were almost alive for her.

      She scrambled to her feet, rushing to put the albums away and close the box that concealed them from view. In a sense she was putting her own memories away with them. She’d have to make sure that she didn’t take them out again. She was getting married. And not to Chayce.

      * * *

      She and Troy ate a leisurely lunch and then went riding in his new red pickup truck.

      He patted the dash as he drove. “Isn’t she a beaut?” he asked with a grin that made his dark brown eyes light up. He was redheaded and had freckles, and when he smiled, they seemed to stand out like measles.

      “Why isn’t a truck a ‘he’?” she asked.

      He just shook his head. “You can’t call something this pretty a boy truck,” he explained.

      She didn’t share his enthusiasm for pickup trucks, but at least he wasn’t still irritated at her, so she settled back and adjusted her seat belt without a protest.

      “Heard from Chayce?” he asked abruptly.

      Her heart jumped, but she didn’t let him know how the sound of Chayce’s name excited her.

      “Not yet,” she replied in what she hoped was a careless tone. “Becky said that he might not have received my letter. He was in the Bahamas with Delina when I sent it, but Becky said he’d gone on to Hollywood with her when she finished shooting her film.”

      Troy glanced at her suspiciously. “You don’t like her.”

      “I don’t even know her!” she said with a hollow laugh. “She’s Chayce’s business, not mine.”

      “Suppose he marries her?” he persisted.

      She clenched her hands together over her blue jeans. “He’s got to marry someone eventually,” she said stiffly.

      “Why? He has women coming out the doors and windows.”

      “Not for the past year,” she returned. “There’s just been Delina.”

      He was still giving her a narrow look. “How would you know that? I thought you hadn’t seen him in almost four years. Hard to believe that. You live in the same house.”

      “Chayce hasn’t been at home when I’ve been there,” she said through her teeth.

      “Why?”

      She let out an irritated breath and turned to glare at him. “What is your problem, Troy?”

      “Chayce doesn’t want you to marry me, that’s my problem!”

      She took a steadying breath. “Chayce can’t tell me who to marry. I’m surprised that he said anything to you. I haven’t even had a postcard from him.”

      “I’m not surprised,” he murmured, watching the road ahead of them. “He still thinks he owns you, but I’m going to prove to him that he doesn’t. I think we should set the marriage date forward. To next month.”

      She felt her stomach clench. It was too soon, too soon, too soon…!

      “If you love me,” he persisted angrily, “you’ll agree.”

      She closed her eyes. He was making so many demands, all at once. She needed time to think, to plan, to argue her case.

      “You don’t want to move it forward, do you, Abby?” he asked bluntly. “You don’t want to marry me at all.”

      “I do!” she protested, turning in her seat to look at him with wild eyes.

      He sighed softly. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know. I thought you were going to try to back out of it. In fact, Dad said you might.”

      “Your father? Sid? But why?” she asked, stunned.

      He changed gears as they went onto a dirt road that led to the holding pens of his father’s ranch. “He said that you were in love with Chayce Derringer.”

      She stared at his hands on the steering wheel. They were clenched so hard that the knuckles were white. That was when she knew that she couldn’t lie to him any longer. But she couldn’t tell the whole truth, either. She decided on a compromise.

      “All right,” she said after a minute, not looking at him. “I had a frantic crush on Chayce when I was about sixteen. He found out and we had a long talk.” She turned her hands over and looked at them. “He’s fifteen years older than I am and he never wants to get married. I knew then that it would never matter how I felt about him, because he didn’t want me.” She looked out the window. “I can’t stop caring about him, Troy. I don’t know how. But he doesn’t feel that way about me, and he never will. So you’re not going to be competing with Chayce.”

      “If that’s true, why did he try to warn me off you last summer?”

      “I’m sure he didn’t,” she said resignedly. “He only wants to make sure that we’ll have a good marriage. He’s taken care of me for a long time. Maybe it’s hard for him to let go, even if he doesn’t see much of me.”

      “And you’re not the divine Delina, after all,” he said without meaning to wound her further. “She’s such a knockout.” He shrugged. “I guess I overreacted. I didn’t think past what he said. But when you come to think of it, not many women could compete with a Hollywood goddess. And she is. Heaven knows, my blood pressure shoots up every time I see her picture in a magazine.”

      “Apparently so does Chayce’s,” she replied, “because he spends most of his free time with her.”

      “And if he ever does marry, she’ll be in the front running,” he agreed.

      “Yes.”

      He glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I don’t think you’re pretty,” he said. “You’re sweet and cute and I love being around you. When you aren’t acting like one of the cutups in my history classes,” he added darkly.

      “I’m not cut out to be staid and retiring, Troy,” she said firmly. “I won’t change. If you want to marry me, you have to accept me the way I am.”

      “You’re fine, with a few minor adjustments,” he commented imperturbably. “You need to tone down that sense of humor and learn how to act with a little dignity in public. And you need to let your hair grow out, while we’re on the subject,” he added with a glance in her direction. “I don’t like short hair on a woman. In fact, I don’t like those tight jeans, either. You’ll have СКАЧАТЬ