Married By Midnight

The young woman grinned dreamily. “How handsome he is. Lordy, he’s a looker, according to all the maids. And just as nice as the day is long. Good to his mama, generous with the staff.”

Amanda’s heart lurched. She wasn’t surprised to hear any of those things about him.

“I’m plum crazy about him already, and I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet.” Dolly grinned. “’Course, that’s nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure, seeing as how you’ve been friends with him for so long.”

“Actually, I haven’t seen Nick in years,” Amanda said.

Ten years. Since that night in the snow…

“Oh, really? Well, how come?” the maid asked. “I thought your families had been friends since way back.”

Dolly had come to work for the Van Pattons only a year ago, so she didn’t know all the family history. Surprising, given how the servants liked to talk.

“That’s just the way things worked out,” Amanda said, and turned away.

“Now, if you don’t mind me saying so, Miz Amanda, there’s a story here you’re not telling,” Dolly said.

Amanda smiled. Dolly was so intuitive she seldom got away with anything around her. She could have simply said that she didn’t want to talk about it, and the maid would have respected her privacy—and remembered her place. But since Dolly had come to the Van Patton household, Amanda found she was more comfortable talking to her than her cousins, aunt or friends.

So telling her now what had happened ten years ago might be just what she needed to put it in perspective, Amanda decided. She’d have to face Nick over the next few days. Perhaps this would help her prepare—and keep her from making a fool of herself.

“It was the autumn I turned fourteen,” Amanda said. “Only six months before that I’d been shipped off to the Van Patton home by my mother, who could no longer care for me after my father’s death.”

She didn’t need to tell Dolly that she’d been born into a distant, poorly regarded branch of the Van Patton family, or that Uncle Philip and Aunt Veronica had agreed to take her in. Amanda was quite certain the servants had already told that part of the story.

“It was a difficult adjustment for me,” Amanda said, but that didn’t begin to describe the problems she’d struggled with.

Etiquette, table manners, conducting herself with proper decorum. Living up to her aunt and uncle’s expectations. Living down her past.

Everything had been uncomfortable. The opulence of their home, the servants, the family meals.

“On top of that,” Amanda said, “I’d suffered through a growing spurt and shot up five inches. I changed, matured. I had long, ungainly arms and legs I didn’t know quite what to do with. Nothing I wore seemed to fit right.”

“Lordy-me, Miz Amanda, do I remember those days!” Dolly commiserated, shaking her head. “Bosoms and hipbones suddenly poking out. The monthly misery. Being angry and sad and happy all at the same time. And nobody understanding.”

Amanda laughed softly. “I suffered no more than any other young girl blossoming into a young woman. But it seemed worse back then, on top of everything else.”

“So what happened between you and Mr. Nick?”

“We vacationed near Tahoe with the Hastingses. They were strangers to me. The twins were quite young then, but my cousin Rachel was sixteen, Daphne seventeen, both beautiful young women at ease with everything and everybody around them.”

Dolly raised a brow. “Including Mr. Nick?”

She nodded. “Including Nick.”

He’d been nineteen that autumn. The most handsome young man Amanda had laid eyes on in her life. She’d spent the whole holiday too addle-brained to think of anything to say to him, and too tongue-tied to speak even if she could have thought of something to say.

Until that night…

Amanda still remembered how warm it had been, despite the snow that blanketed the ground. A full moon illuminated the forest around the magnificent mountain home the Van Pattons referred to as a cabin.

“It was late. Daphne and Rachel slipped outside and I went with them. We met Nick and two other young men from the neighborhood. It was all quite innocent. A playful snowball fight broke out.”

Amid squeals and laughter, the six of them had scattered into the woods, scooping up the cold snow, hurling it at each other as they darted among the trees. One of the young men had picked up Daphne and tossed her into a snowbank. Another had chased Rachel, threatening the same.

“Then, somehow, I found myself alone with Nick. I threw a snowball at him. He dodged it easily and charged right at me.”

Quick as a wink, he’d swept her feet from under her and sent her crashing toward the ground. But at the last instant he’d caught her, kept her from falling. He’d pulled her upright and held her by both arms as she gripped his sleeves.

Moonlight had shimmered through the pines, casting beams across his face as they stood staring at each other. Breathless, Amanda had marveled at his strength—the strength of a man. Had marveled at his quickness. His agility. His masculinity.

He’d knocked her to the ground, but he’d saved her from the fall just as effortlessly. In that instant Nick Hastings had taught her how a man should treat a woman. With tempered strength, compassion, gentleness.

At once, her arms and legs had seemed to fit her body, and she knew why she’d been saddled with the womanly curves she’d found so uncomfortable. Suddenly, Amanda had been at home in her body, glad for the first time that she was a young woman. Understanding, too, that Nick was a young man.

“The next thing I knew, I was in his arms,” Amanda said, looking out the window at the yard, but seeing that snowy forest instead.

They’d stayed that way for a long moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. Nick’s beautiful green eyes, looking only at her. His fingers clutching her arms possessively…

He’d eased closer. She’d smelled his masculine scent, seen the shadow of dark whiskers on his chin. Only the two of them had existed in the snow-covered world.

“Then he kissed me,” Amanda said.

It wasn’t anything more than a pressing of lips, a brush of bodies. But it had taken Amanda’s breath away, left her shivering and shaking.

“So, what happened then?” Dolly asked, leaning forward.

“The others came crashing through the trees and Nick ran off with them.”

Amanda had stood there alone, knowing she’d never be the same again. She’d fallen in love with him. And he’d ruined her for every other man she met afterward.

“And that was that?” Dolly asked.

Amanda drew in a breath, remembering the aftermath of the moment that had changed her life.

“The next morning when Nick walked into the dining room for breakfast, he took one look at me and walked out again.”

Dolly uttered a disgusted grunt. “You are kiddin’ me.”

“No, I wish I were. After that, if we happened upon each other, he never so much as made eye contact, just turned and left at the sight of me.”

“Humph,” Dolly said, and her expression soured. “I don’t like that Mr. Nick at all, anymore.”

“Rachel mentioned that Nick had asked about me later that night, the night we kissed. Afterward, he wouldn’t even look at me,” Amanda said.

“Why do you reckon he did that?”

“I’m not certain.”

She didn’t know for sure. But she was left with the crushing assumption that he’d learned who, exactly, she was. Not a real Van Patton, only a distant, destitute relative they’d taken in out of the goodness of their hearts.

“And you never saw him again?”

Amanda shook her head. “He never came with the Hastings family when they visited San Francisco. He was in college, traveling in Europe, then working at the family business.”

“What about when you all came down here to visit?”

“I always found an excuse not to come. Aunt Veronica never seemed to realize the situation. She had four daughters to contend with and probably appreciated that I wasn’t one of her problems.”

Dolly shook her head. “A young woman never forgets her first kiss. Especially if it’s from a good-looking older boy like Mr. Nick.”

That was certain. Amanda had never forgotten that night. Never stopped measuring every man she met by her one encounter with Nick. She’d often wondered if he even remembered that night. And if he did, had it meant anything to him?

Surely not what it had meant to her.

“So,” Amanda said briskly, shaking off the memories, “that was that.”

Dolly grunted again. “Still, I don’t like the man. I don’t like what he did. Kissing you, then treating you like you were dirt, or something.”

“It was a long time ago. He’s probably changed.”

“I still don’t like him,” Dolly declared.

Amanda was glad Dolly hadn’t asked any more about Nick. She didn’t want to admit that, after all this time, thoughts of him left her as breathless as they had that moonlit night so many years ago.

“I’d better take a bath,” Amanda said, leading the way across the bedchamber to the bathroom down the hall. She was better off pushing the whole matter out of her mind. She’d grown up, filled her life with things that mattered to her.

Somehow over the next few days, she would get through this wedding and return home. Amanda was confident she could pull it off.

All she had to do was keep her distance from Nick.

Chapter Three

“Damnation…”

Nick slumped against the sink, braced his arm on the cold porcelain and squinted into the mirror.

He looked like hell.

He felt like hell.

But what did he expect after consuming his share of a bottle of Scotch last night?

Pushing away from the sink, he saw that Jackson, his valet, had already filled the claw-footed tub for him, as he did every morning. Nick stripped off his flannel drawers and eased into the water. He dunked his head and threaded his fingers through his dark hair, slicking it off his face.

During his morning bath Nick usually reviewed his day ahead—people he planned to meet, appointments scheduled at his office downtown, things that required his attention. But this morning all he could think about was Ethan and that damn bottle of Scotch. Nick seldom drank to excess. Now he remembered why.

A discreet knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Jackson, a slight man with graying hair, slipped into the room bearing a tray with a cup of coffee, then disappeared just as silently. Nick wasn’t sure how the man always knew his needs so instinctively, but he appreciated it.

Sipping the coffee, Nick washed, dried and dressed in fresh underdrawers and the white sleeveless undershirt Jackson had left for him. When he moved to the mirror once more, he thought he looked a little better. He felt a little better, too.

Yet something nagged at him. Something from last night. What was it?

Dragging the razor across his lathered jaw, he thought back to yesterday. The Whitney project came to mind, but he could recall nothing out of the ordinary with it. Just the usual worry that he stood to lose a large fortune if the deal fell apart.

No, it wasn’t the Whitney project. Nick rinsed the razor under the tap, mentally reviewing the previous day. Finally, he recalled last night in the study. Cecilia had come in. Ethan and he had been left with the bottle of Scotch to finish off. Then Ethan suggested—

“Hellfire.” Nick’s head came up quickly.

He’d made a wager to find a wife in thirty days.

“Damn…!” Nick eyed his reflection sharply. What had he been thinking? He’d bet Ethan a case of Scotch that he would be married by midnight in thirty days—twenty-nine days, now. What the hell was wrong with him?

Grumbling, Nick finished shaving and went into his adjoining bedchamber. Jackson had disappeared, but he’d laid out Nick’s suit for the day. Nick yanked on his white shirt, mentally berating himself for drinking so much, for agreeing to that ridiculous bet.

He stopped in the middle of his room as another thought occurred to him.

Even before last night he’d considered getting married. Having a wife wasn’t such a bad idea. In fact, it would ease his burden in life considerably.

No more young eligible women being pushed in front of him at social events. No more mothers, grandmothers and aunts looking him over, sizing him up as husband material.

Maybe Ethan’s idea had some merit. Nick fastened the button on his left sleeve. Getting the whole wedding thing over and done with quickly had its advantages.

He exhaled heavily. No, it wasn’t right—not for his future wife, anyway. Women lived for that sort of thing. Parties, receptions. Certainly her wedding. He couldn’t rob her of that once-in-a-lifetime event.

He fiddled with the button on his right sleeve. Of course, finding a wife in a month’s time would be a challenge to any man, but who was more up to it than he? He could sweep a woman off her feet as well as anyone.

Finding the right sort of woman would be imperative. Nick had no intention of falling desperately in love. He’d known that for some time now. He’d known, too, that what he wanted was a wife who was compatible.

He’d learned the hard way what “love” could do to a man.

Nick paused. Compatible. Yes, that’s what he wanted. It was what he would look for. Compatibility. If he found that, everything else would fall into place.

The door to his bedchamber burst open. Nick swung around as Cecilia swept into his room, her dressing gown billowing behind her, her hair a mass of tangles.

While never in a thousand years would Nick consider walking into his sister’s or mother’s room unannounced, the women in the house thought nothing of bursting in on him when it suited them. Such as now, when he wore only his drawers and shirt, with one cuff buttoned.

Cecilia stopped, flung out both hands and cried, “It’s over! The wedding is off!” She burst into tears.

“What?” Nick went to her.

Constance dashed into his room, hot on her daughter’s heels. She, too, wore her dressing gown. Her graying hair, woven into a braid, hung down her back.

“Cecilia,” Constance said, “please, calm down.”

“What happened?” Nick asked.

“It’s off! The wedding! Aaron—Aaron never really loved me at all!” Cecilia collapsed into racking sobs against Nick.

He gathered her into his arms and turned to their mother. “What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea. I found her this way in her room a few minutes ago,” Constance said, her eyes wide. She touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Cecilia, dear, you must tell us what happened. Why do you think Aaron doesn’t love you?”

“Because he doesn’t,” Cecilia wailed, lifting her head from Nick’s shoulder. “Cancel the wedding. The flowers, the food, the reception—cancel it all!”

Nick saw his mother sway as over a year’s worth of planning and preparing evaporated before their eyes. He reached out and steadied her. She clamped her hand onto his arm.

“Let’s just all calm down,” Nick said. “First—”

“No, there’s nothing to discuss!” Cecilia said.

“Cecilia, you don’t mean that,” Constance insisted.

“Yes, I do!”

“Nick, do something!”

“Look, both of you—”

“Stop!” Aunt Winnie blasted into the room wearing a ruby-red dressing gown, her hair so neatly styled it looked as if she’d sat up in a chair all night. “I could have predicted this would happen! Cecilia, what did you dream last night?”

Cecilia wailed anew and buried her face in Nick’s shoulder. Constance clutched him tighter.

Winnifred marched over to them. “Someone’s dream predicted this. Nick, what did you dream last night?”

“I—I dreamed I was flying,” he said.

Winnifred’s eyes squinted together. “Were you flying over broken objects?”

“No.” He peered down at his sister, trying to see her face. “Cecilia, you have to tell us what happened.”

“Were you flying with black wings?” Winnifred persisted.

“No.”

“White wings?”

“No. Listen, Cecilia, Aaron loves you. Just last night—”

“He doesn’t!” she insisted.

“Were you shot at while flying?” Winnifred asked.

“No.”

“Were you flying naked?”

“Aunt Winnie!” Nick eased Cecilia away from him and tilted her face up. “Tell me what happened.”

“Yes, dear, tell us everything,” Constance said, finally pulling herself together.

Cecilia sniffed and dragged her hand across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “Last night when Aaron was here he—he said something. I thought nothing of it at the time, but when I woke this morning I realized what it really meant.”

“Did it come to you in a dream?” Aunt Winnie demanded.

“No,” Cecilia said.

“What did he say?” Nick asked.

“He said he—he wanted to cut our honeymoon short.” She collapsed into tears again. “Because of business.”

“Aha!” Constance declared, as if everything were clear to her now.

Nick stared at the two of them. “What the hell’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, Nick, really.” Constance shot him a look and gathered her daughter into her arms.

Cecilia gave Nick a whack on the chest. “Oh, I should have known you wouldn’t understand!”

He plowed his fingers through his hair. “I could understand it if you could explain it.”

“He wants to come back early because of business,” Cecilia said, swiping at her tears again. “That means he cares more about his business than he cares about me. If he really loved me he would want to be with me as much as possible. But he doesn’t.”

“That’s not what it means,” Nick insisted.

“Yes, it is! I won’t marry a man who cares more about his business than he cares about me!” Cecilia clenched her hands into fists. “You don’t understand! Nobody understands!”

“Cecilia—”

“Dear—”

“What did Aaron dream last night?”

“I understand.”

Nick looked up as yet another woman wearing a dressing gown walked into his bedchamber. This one he didn’t know. But Cecilia obviously did because she rushed to her.

And, Lord, this woman was pretty. Tall, with thick brown hair that curled to her waist. She looked vaguely familiar, but Nick was certain he would have remembered her if they’d met.

“I couldn’t help but overhearing as I was going down the hall,” she said, gesturing toward the door and casting an apologetic look at Constance.

“That’s fine,” Constance replied, seeming relieved to have her here. “Go ahead, Amanda.”

“Amanda?” Nick stared harder at her.

She ignored him and took both of Cecilia’s hands. “I just went through this same thing with both my cousins, only weeks ago when they married.”

“Amanda Van Patton?” Nick asked, as a foggy memory crept into his mind.

“It’s last-minute jitters, that’s all,” Amanda said. “Things seem worse than they really are.”

“Amanda Van Patton? From San Francisco?”

“Hush, Nick,” Constance hissed.

“No,” Cecilia protested. “That’s not the case here. It’s not just jitters.”

“Yes, it is,” Amanda told her. “Now, listen to me, Cecilia, and listen well. Aaron loves you. You know that. His asking if he could cut the honeymoon short means just that. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, or that he thinks more about his business than he does you. And he did ask you, didn’t he? He didn’t tell you.”

“Well, yes,” Cecilia said, and sniffed.

“You’ll be his wife,” Amanda said. “His business responsibilities will be your responsibilities, too. Aaron is a smart man. If he really thinks he needs to come home sooner, then you should consider that he has a valid reason.”

A heavy silence fell over the room while the wedding of the season hung in the balance. Cecilia chewed her bottom lip. Nick was certain his mother held her breath. He was having a little trouble breathing himself, but for an entirely different reason.

This woman was Amanda Van Patton? Recollections surfaced in his memory, vaguely matching the beautiful woman who stood in front of him now.

Finally, Cecilia sniffed and said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Talk to Aaron. Listen to what he says. Tell him how you feel,” Amanda said. “You two need to do what’s best for the both of you.”

“All right,” Cecilia promised, sniffing again and drawing in a breath. “I will.”

“So the wedding is on?” Constance asked, almost in a whisper, as if afraid of what the answer might be.

Cecilia pushed her chin up. “It’s on.”

“Thank goodness,” her mother declared, pressing her hand to her throat. Then she dashed for the door. “I have a hundred things to do today.”

“I must talk to Aaron right away,” Cecilia declared, hurrying after her.

“What about your dreams?” Aunt Winnie called, following the other two women. “I must know what you dreamed.”

Nick hardly noticed the three women leaving the room as he stared at Amanda, standing in profile before him.

She’d been little more than a child when he’d last seen her. But now she was a woman. All woman.

Beautiful, yes. But more than that. She’d handled the situation with Cecilia with an intelligence and a command seldom found in women. And that made her even more attractive.

“Amanda?”

She turned and gazed up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Nick’s belly clenched.

“I didn’t recognize you,” he said. “You don’t look as I remember…but I don’t see how I could have forgotten.”

Amanda gave him a half smile and wiggled her finger at him. “Actually, what you’ve forgotten is your trousers.”

She turned briskly and walked out of the room.

Nick looked down at himself, then slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh, my God…”

Chapter Four

Amanda pushed her bedroom door shut and fell back against it. Heat swept through her, flushing her cheeks and threatening to burn her from the inside out.

Then she giggled. A silly, schoolgirl giggle.

Since agreeing to come to the Hastings home she’d worried and wondered what would happen when she saw Nick again. Would she be so overwhelmed by the sight of him that she’d stutter and stammer? Trip over something? Faint dead away? Would she make a fool of herself by his mere presence?

None of that had happened. Instead, the first time she saw him he’d been in his underwear.

“What happened?” Dolly asked, turning away from the closet. “Why was Miss Cecilia crying?”

They’d heard her sobs on their way to the bathroom down the hall. Dolly had returned to Amanda’s room, leaving her to see what the problem was.

“Everything’s fine with Cecilia. Just last-minute nerves,” Amanda said.

Dolly’s eyes narrowed. “Then what’s so all-fired funny? I can see that smile on your face, plain as day.”

“Nothing,” Amanda insisted, trying again to swallow her grin. “It’s nothing.”

A knock sounded on the door. Amanda’s heart lurched. Was it Nick?

She admonished herself for having the thought. More than likely it was Constance, coming to thank her for helping. Or Cecilia wanting to talk.

She opened the door and her heart thundered in her chest. Heat flooded her cheeks again.

It was Nick.

In the ten years that had passed since she’d last seen him his features had hardened, become more angular. A straight nose, square jaw, dark full brows…the face of a man looked down at her.

He’d grown larger, too. His shoulders were wide and straight, his chest full and muscular. Her nose barely reached his chin.

His dark hair was damp, hanging over his forehead. The white shirt she’d seen him in moments ago was buttoned now, but the tail hung loose and the collar stood open. She glimpsed the fabric of his white cotton undershirt and his coarse, black chest hair curling over the top.

He also wore trousers.

He must have hopped into them and hurried after her, because even now he was pulling up his suspenders.