LITMIR.BIZ

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his head. He didn’t even want to consider such a thing happening. Especially not in the middle of the ceremony. But it was already too late. His heart started racing. His palms began to sweat. Maybe he’d keel over right now and be done with it. Helen would take care of the children even if they hadn’t been officially married.

      He slowly became aware of the oppressive, awkward silence filling the church. Pastor Brightly cleared his throat. “You don’t wish to take Helen to be your wife?”

      “I—” He stopped and stared at the preacher realizing that wasn’t the question Quinn had prepared himself to answer. “What?”

      “You shook your head. I thought...”

      “Oh, no.” Quinn waved his right hand dismissing the action he’d done during his lapse of concentrate.

      Helen’s left hand slipped from his as the preacher’s brow furrowed in confusion. “‘No’ what?”

      Quinn frowned at Helen and took her hand in his again as a nervousness seemed to spread from him to the folks gathered in the chapel. Helen wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, was she? “Where are you going?”

      “I’m not—” Her words stumbled to a halt. She looked flat out bewildered. “Quinn, are you going to marry me or not?”

      “Well, I’m trying to, honey. The preacher here can’t seem to get the question right.”

      A chuckle sounded from the audience. Quinn turned in time to see Ellie Williams smack her husband on the shoulder for the outburst before glaring at her sister-in-law, Lorelei, who sat on her other side shaking with silent laughter. Quinn glanced at his best man for help. Rhett just shook his head. Helen leaned into Quinn’s side to whisper, “Pastor Brightly already asked you once.”

      “Oh.” He almost admitted he’d been distracted then stopped himself in time to keep from getting into more trouble. He nodded at Pastor Brightly. “I reckon you’d better ask me again.”

      Pastor Brightly looked decidedly nervous as he cleared his throat. “Will you take Helen Grace McKenna to be your wedded wife—”

      “I will.”

      “—to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony—”

      “I will.”

      Pastor Brightly took in a deep breath and somehow managed to say the rest without pausing even a second for Quinn to answer. “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

      Finally, realizing he’d been interrupting the minister, Quinn hesitated before adding one final. “I will.”

      It was Helen’s turn. She answered Pastor Brightly only once and not until the end, but the surety in her voice was worth the wait. Then it was time to exchange rings. He made sure to pay close attention so that he could say I do at the right time to endow all of his worldly goods upon Helen—such as they were. Quinn’s heart had managed to calm down somewhat by the time Helen slid the ring he’d picked up at the mercantile onto his finger...until he realized there was only one thing left to do.

      “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Quinn, you may kiss your bride.”

      He froze in panic. Sending a quick glance heavenward, he turned to his bride. What else is a groom to do? It’s expected.

      He glanced down at her smiling lips and wished more than anything that he’d kissed her in the schoolhouse first, lighting bolt or no lightning bolt. Now he had an audience and no idea how he was supposed to do this. He leaned down slowly to make sure he had the right trajectory. He brushed his lips across hers. That didn’t seem quite right. He tried again, lingering this time. She tilted her head and did the rest.

      A lightning bolt hit him, all right. It traveled from his lips down to his soul. It blocked out everything in a flash of light and heat except for the woman before him. He pulled away to stare down at her. A hundred questions battled for answers within him. Had she felt the lightning, too? More important, who had taught her to kiss like that and how soon could he get his hands around that man’s neck? Finally, maybe if Quinn was real good about everything else, would God mind if he tasted lightning at least one more time before he died? He wasn’t anticipating a long wait seeing as he had not only chased after but caught more than he was entitled to.

      Nope. A wedding kiss was acceptable. He’d better play it safe from here on out. That’s what a smart man would do. He’d never professed to be one before, but he’d married the schoolmarm. He had to at least try to use his wits if he wanted to keep her.

      And he did. For the children. Only for the children.

      * * *

      Sean and Lorelei O’Brien had insisted on keeping the children at their neighboring farm overnight. Helen sorely missed their company, for the evening seemed to stretch on interminably without them. She tried to present a picture of unselfconscious comfort by tucking her feet under her and snuggling into the settee with a copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, but an undercurrent of unease seemed to crackle in the air along with the soft roar from the logs in the fireplace. Even the crisp notes of Quinn’s banjo couldn’t drown it out, though he wasn’t above trying—bless his heart.

      After announcing that he hadn’t had much of a chance to practice lately, he’d settled on the rug-covered floor across from the settee and started playing...and playing...and playing. It seemed as though he’d been strumming for hours, pausing for only an instant between songs, if that. At first, she’d enjoyed it. He was a very talented musician, after all. He’d even gotten her toe tapping a time or two. Now, she was getting concerned and a bit frustrated.

      It was their wedding day, for goodness’ sake! Didn’t he even want to talk to his new wife? She certainly wanted to talk to him. She’d been counting on this time to get to know the acquaintance she’d just married. She’d be downright mad at him for ignoring her if he wasn’t so attractive while doing it.

      Book abandoned, she stared at him, since he wasn’t paying her any mind, anyway. The firelight caressed his jaw with golden fingers that swept up to his cheek and back down again as he bobbed his head in time with the music. His strong arms curved around the instrument while his left hand slid back and forth across the neck of the banjo and his nimble fingers coaxed music from the strings. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration. She bit her lip to hold back a sigh. Talk to me.

      He glanced up and caught her watching. His fingers stalled. She smiled her entreaty. His lips curved upward in response. He went back to playing. She closed her eyes in annoyance then opened them to find his gaze fixed on her again. Progress! She’d better do something while she had his attention. His piercing cobalt eyes rendered her mind a complete blank. She reached for something sensible or meaningful to say then dared to speak over the music. “This is a nice room.”

       Really? That’s the best that I could come up with?

      It seemed to take Quinn off guard a little, too, for he glanced around as though with new eyes. The furnishings of the living room weren’t fancy, but they were comfortable and of good quality. The floors were the same rather worn oak that seemed to stretch through the entire house. The burgundy rug on top of it reflected the red brick of the fireplace, which was cooled down by the hunter green and dark blue in the settee and matching chairs. Having finished his inspection, Quinn offered her a nod. “I’m glad you like it.”

      Her mind scrambled for something else to say. What could she talk about? The ceremony? She wasn’t eager to discuss the fact that he’d made her a nervous wreck by originally accidentally refusing her. The children? All she could think about was the fact that they wouldn’t return until tomorrow. Leaving her alone. With her husband. Who had only just discovered that she was in the same room with him.

      Realizing they hadn’t stopped staring at each other while he played, she wanted to look away but was afraid she wouldn’t get his attention

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