Country Bride. Debbie Macomber

didn’t feel wonderful—even particularly admirable—but she smiled. And she was sincere when she offered Clay and Rorie her very best wishes.

      Somehow Luke must have known how frail she felt because he took her hand and led her to one of the round lace-covered tables. His fingers were cool and callused, while Kate’s were damp with her stubborn resolve to hide her pain.

      Wordlessly, she sat beside Luke until the cake had been cut and the first piece ceremonially fed to the bride and groom. The scene before her flickered like an old silent movie. Kate held herself still, trying not to feel anything, but not succeeding.

      “Would you like me to get you something to eat?” Luke asked, when a line formed to gather refreshments.

      She stared at him, hardly able to comprehend his words. Then she blinked and her eyes traveled across the hall to the three-tiered heart-shaped wedding cake. “No,” she said automatically.

      “When was the last time you ate?”

      Kate didn’t remember. She shrugged. “Breakfast, I guess.” As she spoke she realized that wasn’t true. Dinner the night before was the last time she’d eaten. No wonder she felt so shaky and light-headed.

      “I’m getting you some wedding cake,” Luke announced grimly.

      “Don’t. I’m—I’m not hungry.”

      He was doing it again! Taking over, making decisions on her behalf because he felt sorry for her. She would have argued with him, but he was already walking away, blithely unaware of her frustration.

      Kate watched him, suddenly seeing him with fresh eyes. Luke Rivers had lived and worked on the Circle L for a decade, but Kate knew next to nothing about his past. His official title was foreman, but he was much more than that. He’d initiated several successful cattle-breeding programs and been involved in a profit-sharing venture with her father almost from the first. Devin had often remarked that Luke was certainly capable of maintaining his own spread. But year after year, he stayed on at the Circle L. This realization—that she knew so little of his past and even less about his thoughts and plans—shocked Kate. He’d always been just plain Luke. And he’d always been around—or so it seemed.

      She had to admit that Luke puzzled her. He was handsome enough, but he rarely dated any woman for long, although plenty of Nightingale’s finest had made their interest obvious. He was a “catch” who refused to play ball. He could be as tough as leather and mean as a saddle sore when the mood struck him, but it seldom did. Tall, lean and rugged adequately described him on the surface. It was what lay below that piqued her interest now.

      Kate’s musings about Luke were interrupted by the man himself as he pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. He pushed a delicate china plate filled with cheese and mixed nuts in her direction.

      “I thought you were bringing me cake.” His own plate was loaded with a huge piece, in addition to a few nuts and pastel mints.

      “I brought you some protein instead. Sugar’s not a good idea on an empty stomach.”

      “I don’t believe you,” she muttered, her sarcasm fuelled by his arrogance. “First you insist on bringing me cake, and then just when I’m looking forward to it, you decide I shouldn’t be eating sweets.”

      Luke ignored her, slicing into his cake. “Just a minute ago, you said it would be a waste of time for me to bring you anything. Fact is, you downright refused to eat.”

      “That...was before.”

      He smiled, and that knowing cocky smile of his infuriated her.

      “You’ll feel sick if you eat sugar,” he announced in an authoritative voice.

      So much for helping her through the evening! All he seemed to want to do was quarrel. “Apparently you know how my stomach’s going to react to various food groups. You amaze me, Luke Rivers. I had no idea you knew so much about my body’s metabolism.”

      “You’d be shocked if I told you all the things I know about you and your body, Princess.”

      Kate stood abruptly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call me that. I’m not your ‘Princess.’ I’m a woman, not a little girl.”

      “Honey, you don’t need to tell me that. I already know. Now sit down.” His tone was brusque, and his smile humorless.

      “I’ll stand if I choose.”

      “Fine then. Look like a fool, if that’s what you want.”

      No sooner had the words left his lips than she lowered herself back into the chair. The fight had gone out of her as quickly as it had come. Absently she scooped up a handful of nuts and chewed them vigorously, taking her frustration out on them.

      Luke pushed his plate aside and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend and I’ll continue to be your friend as long as I live. Don’t ever doubt that.”

      Kate’s eyes filled and her throat tightened painfully. “I know. It’s just that this is so much more...exhausting than I thought it would be.”

      Voices drew Kate’s eyes to the front of the room, where Clay and Rorie were toasting each other with glasses of sparkling champagne. Soon flutes were being delivered around the room. Kate took one, holding the stem with both hands as if the champagne would lend her strength.

      When the newlyweds were toasted, she took a sip. It bubbled and fizzed inside her mouth, then slid easily down her throat.

      The soft strains of a violin drifted around the hall, and, mesmerized, Kate watched as Clay claimed his bride and led her onto the dance floor. Just watching the couple, so much in love, with eyes only for each other, heaped an extra burden of pain on Kate’s shoulders. She looked away and, when she did, her gaze met Luke’s. She tried to smile, to convince him she wasn’t feeling a thing, but her effort failed dismally. Ready tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes and she bent her head, not wanting anyone to notice them, least of all Luke. He’d been wonderful; he’d been terrible. Kate couldn’t decide which.

      Soon others joined Clay and Rorie. First the matron of honor and then the bridesmaids and groomsmen, each couple swirling around the polished floor with practiced ease.

      Luke got to his feet, walked to Kate’s side and offered her his hand. His eyes held hers, silently demanding that she dance with him. Kate longed to tell him no, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. It was simpler to give in than try to explain why she couldn’t.

      Together they approached the outskirts of the dance floor and Luke skillfully turned her into his arms.

      “Everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered as his hand slid around her waist.

      Kate managed a nod, grateful for his concern. She needed Luke this evening more than she’d realized. One thing was clear; she’d never make it through the remainder of the night without him.

      During the past few years, Luke had danced with Kate any number of times. She’d never given it a second thought. Now they danced to one song and then another, but when she slipped into his embrace a third time, and his fingers spread across the small of her back, a shiver of unexpected awareness skidded up her spine. Kate paused, confused. Her steps faltered and in what seemed like an attempt to help her, Luke pulled her closer. Soon their bodies were so close together Kate could hear the steady beat of Luke’s heart against her own. The quickening rate of his pulse told her he was experiencing the same rush of excitement she was.

      Kate felt so light-headed she was almost giddy. Luke’s arms were warm and secure, a solid foundation to hold on to when her world had been abruptly kicked off its axis. It might have been selfish, but Kate needed that warmth, that security. Smiling up at him, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the warm sensations carried on the soft, lilting music.

      “Kate, there’s something I need to tell you about the Circle L—”

      She pressed