Wedding Captives. Cassie Miles

Travis said sulkily.

      “I beg your pardon?” Lawrence glared at Travis like an owl sizing up a canary. His tone implied more threat than apology, which seemed uncharacteristic for a butler whose primary duty was proper protocol and tact. Spence glimpsed the black leather of a shoulder holster beneath Lawrence’s parka. The butler was armed. Why? What did he expect to find at the castle?

      Lawrence turned back to his controls, and they jostled higher and higher in silence. An unmistakable air of tension crackled through the gondola car. Only the diminutive psychologist, Dr. Mona, seemed immune. “I’d like to hear more about the castle’s history,” she said. “What happened to the quarry?”

      “In the 1920s, a fire destroyed the workers’ town,” Lawrence recited as if he’d memorized the pertinent data. “Then there was a disastrous flood that wiped out much of the quarry operation and the roads. The original owner and his wife moved back east. The narrow-gauge tracks were hauled away as scrap metal during the war. It wasn’t until the 1960s that the castle had a full-time occupant. He added the gondola which—I hasten to assure you—has been scrupulously maintained.”

      As if on cue, they took a sudden jolt. Once again, Thea tensed.

      Quietly, Spence said to her, “We’re almost there. Only a few more minutes.”

      The castle disappeared from view behind the trees. They neared the summit and a gondola house which appeared to be an exact match for the one they’d left behind on the opposite slope. As the fiberglass car ratcheted forward and docked with a thud, the stone walls of the gondola house closed around them, protecting them from the fierce winds and threat of snow.

      “Made it,” Spence said.

      Thea yanked her hand away from his and bolted for the exit. Single-minded, she pressed her fingertips against the glass. As soon as Lawrence had the sliding door open, Thea leapt through. For a moment, Spence thought she was going to kiss the wooden planks of the floor beside the gondola car. But Thea had already begun to recover her poise. She inhaled huge gulps of the thin mountain air. Fighting the shudders that vibrated her shoulders, she denied her panic. Her voice quavered as she announced to the others, “That wasn’t so bad.”

      Through the gondola window, Spence saw Dr. Mona pat Thea’s forearm. “You did very well,” the doctor said. “It’s important to face your fears.”

      “Fears?” Thea laughed semi-hysterically. “No fear. That’s what my kids say at school. No fear.”

      Spence tucked his own suitcase under his arm and gathered up Thea’s luggage before exiting the gondola behind Reverend Josh and Travis. Silently, Spence wondered what other fears the weekend might hold in store for them.

      As soon as he stepped outside the gondola, Thea grabbed the garment bag. “I’ll take that.” Her tone was overly bright. Her smile too wide. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the bridesmaid dress.”

      He nodded. Though he didn’t want to throw her back into terror, he already missed the closeness of her clinging to him for support.

      “By the way,” she said, “thanks.”

      “For what?”

      Her eyes roamed wildly, showing too much white and avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”

      “It’s okay. I liked it.”

      She stiffened. Staring directly at him, she snapped, “Are you saying that you enjoyed the fact that I was scared out of my skull?”

      “I was glad you trusted me enough to hold my hand.”

      “Don’t flatter yourself. It was only a reflex.”

      As soon as she spoke, Thea realized how ungracious her comment sounded. She didn’t want to pick a fight with Spence. This was a wedding, supposedly a pleasant occasion, and she was well-prepared to stifle her own emotions rather than ruin the weekend for Jenny and her reclusive bridegroom.

      Forcing what she hoped was a polite smile, Thea added, “But thanks anyway.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      Sometime during this weekend—sometime soon—she had to set down ground rules of behavior with Spence. The best solution was probably to ignore each other as much as possible. But how would she manage that? How could she ignore someone who was so solid and sexy and outrageously masculine?

      When she’d clung to him like a drowning woman hanging on a buoy, a sneaky awareness had crept through her panic. She’d felt the strength in his grasp. Leaning against his shoulder wakened unwanted memories of previous intimacy.

      She was saved from further contemplation by a loud “harrumph” from Lawrence who stood at the door to the gondola house trying to get an answer from the house on an intercom or radio of some sort. Obviously annoyed, he informed them, “There seems to be an unfortunate miscommunication. No one answers at the castle.”

      “Well that’s just hunky-dory,” Travis snapped. “What do we do now?”

      Frowning, Lawrence said, “I had expected to be met by a full contingent of staff, including a porter, but no one appears to be responding to our arrival. Ladies and gentlemen, would you mind carrying your own luggage?”

      “No problem,” Thea said. Travis put on a sulk, but as her tension faded, she was actually glad for something physical and taxing to do. Whatever urge had compelled her to clamp onto Spence was past.

      She fell into the single-file line as they hiked up a snow-packed, sanded path winding through the trees. Thea was next to last, and Spence brought up the rear. She could hear his footfalls behind her. She was aware of his measured breathing. He must be in good shape; he wasn’t huffing at all on this steep incline.

      Of course, he’d be in excellent physical condition. She reminded herself that Spence Cannon was, perhaps, the most self-centered man on the planet. He would take care of himself.

      The trees thinned. Suddenly, the castle came into full view. Magnificent! Thea halted and stared up at the walls of chiseled granite blocks that formed nooks and shadowed crannies, dark and mysterious as the storm clouds overhead. Nearest the path was a sculpted octagonal tower. The arched windows on the top story of the tower were lit from inside.

      “That’s got to be the bridal suite,” Spence said. “The room with the sexy statues.”

      “Jenny must be up there.” But why hadn’t she come down to greet them? Thea shook off a prickly sense of apprehension. More than likely, Jenny hadn’t heard their arrival. Or she was busy with her trousseau. After all, she’d pulled this wedding together in a matter of weeks. There must be dozens of last-minute details. “I should’ve come up here earlier to help her. It’s my job as a maid of honor.”

      “I’m sure Jenny has everything under control,” Dr. Mona offered, showing no sign of exertion either. “She’s quite a capable young woman.”

      “But look at this place! It’s huge. How could anybody manage?”

      “With a staff of servants, dear,” Dr. Mona advised, tongue-in-cheek.

      But surely, even with maids and a cook, the responsibility of taking care of a castle was daunting. It was so large that Thea couldn’t even clearly see the matching tower on the far end. The center section rose four stories high with a peaked Tudor-style roof above a stone Gothic entranceway. The mismatched architectural theme also included castellated battlements to mark the parapets and a minaret-style gatekeeper’s house by the front doorway. Some of the windows were arched, others were square. The mishmash of designs might have come from flipping through a Lifestyles of the Eccentric Rich and Famous catalog and choosing something from each page. “I wonder if the original structure was added to.”

      “It seems likely,” Dr. Mona said. “Parts of it look Romanesque. Others are definitely Tudor.”

      “I don’t care for the gargoyles,” the reverend said.