Wedding Captives

At the front of the gondola, Lawrence the butler stood before a simple control panel. The reverend and Dr. Mona were seated, staring and mesmerized by the spectacular view. Only Travis was in motion, ducking down to peer from the windows on one side, then the other.

“Hey, Larry,” Travis said, “how did this castle get built, anyway?”

“I prefer to be called Lawrence,” the butler said.

“Okay, Lawrence,” Travis drawled. “How’d they build this place?”

“I assume you are referring to the apparent impossibility of transporting building materials to such an extremely isolated location.”

“Well, yeah,” Travis muttered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

With a shrug of his round shoulders, Lawrence explained, “The opposite wall of this peak was a marble quarry. In the late 1800s, some of the finest marble in the world was quarried here, then cut and polished by artisans who came from Italy. A narrow-gauge railroad transported the stones which were used in monuments throughout North America.”

“So?” Travis said. “Are you saying that the rear approach to the castle isn’t so steep?”

“Quite the contrary.” Lawrence continued, “In seeking the most excellent veins of marble, the walls were literally shaved back into steep cliffs.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Mona said. “The castle appears to be the domain of someone seeking total isolation, but that wasn’t the case.”

“Not at all,” Lawrence said. “Though the first owner was known to be a cutthroat entrepreneur, he built this castle to please his wife, a proper Bostonian lady who insisted that the quarry be shut down on Sunday, the day of rest.”

The reverend murmured his approval.

Lawrence added, “There’s a chapel in the castle.”

Spence felt Thea’s grip on his hand begin to relax as she listened to the history of the Castle in the Clouds. Though he was glad her fear had begun to abate, he hoped she wouldn’t pull away from him. He wanted the connection with her, no matter how tenuous.

“And yet,” Lawrence said, “no one would mistake the castle for a cathedral. The bridal suite—which you can see from here—at the top of the north tower where the light is lit, features some rather decadent statuary.”

The stern-faced reverend inhaled a disapproving sniff through his long red nose. “The castle’s isolation is an appropriate homily.” As if pronouncing the locale an indictment against an ill-fated wedding and a groom he had yet to meet, Joshua Hardy intoned, “It was greed that caused them to chisel away at the wall of the mountain, leaving themselves stranded and alone.”

Chapter Three

“Dude,” Travis shuddered, “that sounds like a sermon.”

“That would be the definition of a homily,” the reverend said curtly. “An example to edify the flock.”

“Sheep?”

“Listen here, Mr. Trevain.” The reverend pointed a warning with his skeletal index finger. “I don’t appreciate your attitude. I’m here at the request of your sister to bless the holy sacrament of her marriage, and I will not be taunted.”

Travis rolled his eyes and flung himself down onto a seat, sending a tremor through the gondola car.

Thea gasped and burrowed more deeply against Spence’s shoulder. For her benefit he asked, “Lawrence, is this gondola safe?”

“Yes, indeed. The cable is tested to hold two thousand, two hundred pounds.”

“So we have nothing to worry about.”

Lawrence swiveled his bald head toward Spence and frowned. “I suppose the machinery could stall.”

Not a pleasant image. Spence sure as hell didn’t want to be left dangling between two precipices. From his search-and-rescue training, he supposed they’d have to be removed from the car via helicopter in a dangerous, complex procedure involving harnesses. “The stalling thing? Has that ever happened before?”

“Not that I know of,” Lawrence said. “But I haven’t been in Mr. Rosemont’s employ for very long.”

“And you probably won’t be working for him long,” 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.

There was no chance to question Lawrence about the design. He was far ahead, chugging steadily up the hill toward an entrance behind the octagonal tower. Travis stayed close behind him, apparently unimpressed by his first up-close-and-personal view of the castle.

As they came closer to the entrance, the outdoor lights blazed to life, illuminating the stone walls.

“Wow!” Spotlights shining up from the ground gave the illusion that the massive structure was magically floating above the snow-covered cliffs.

“Must be somebody home,” Spence said, “to turn on the lights.”

“Of course,” Thea said. Yet, an aura of stillness clung to the granite walls as if the castle were an empty stage waiting for the players to enter and speak their lines.

Lawrence unlocked and opened a humble door beside a loading dock, and Travis bellowed, “Jenny! Get your booty down here, sis!”

Her booty? Thea forced a grin, trying to be tolerant. The slangy attitude of Jenny’s brother reminded her of her eighth-grade students. Though Travis had to be in his late twenties, he seemed like a kid—irresponsible and not a little bit wild.

Thea hiked the last steps to the side entrance and stepped inside a long coatroom with no windows. At the far end a ski rack housed several pairs of skis and boots in a various sizes. Along the adjoining paneled wall, wooden pegs served as hooks between several closet doors. There were even lockers. It all seemed odd to her, like a chalet at some ski resort.

Through an open door, she heard Lawrence exclaiming, “Utterly unacceptable!”

Thea, Spence, Mona and the reverend dropped their luggage and went toward the sound of Lawrence’s voice into a huge kitchen. Stainless-steel appliances shone amidst an array of marble countertops and butcher blocks. A giant hanging rack displayed copper pots and kettles. Though Thea wasn’t much of a cook, the kitchen impressed her.

“No one is here.” Lawrence emphatically stated the obvious. “No chef. No waitpersons. No one.”

Mona pulled open the door to a double-wide refrigerator which was packed with food. “At least there seems to be ample provisions.”

Disdainfully, Lawrence sneered, “I certainly hope I won’t be expected to prepare the meals.”

“Where’s Travis?” Spence asked.

Lawrence pointed toward a door at the far corner of the kitchen. “That’s the servants’ stairwell up to the bridal suite. He went to look for Jenny.”

“I think I’ll join them,” Thea said. She really couldn’t wait to see Jenny, and it seemed like the next logical thing to do. “I’m sure Jenny can tell us where the rest of the staff is hiding.”

Without invitation, Spence followed her into a narrow wooden stairwell that ascended in a sharp zigzag pattern. Every few feet, a single bare lightbulb, attached to the wall and encased in a wire cage, cast their shadows against stone and mortar walls.

“Watch your step,” Spence advised. “These stairs are worn unevenly.”

“Apparently,” she said, trying to focus her attentions elsewhere, and not on the fact that she was quite alone with Spence, “the lord of the castle didn’t believe in spending much money on servants.”

He looked upward. “I don’t see how they carried trays up this staircase.”

“Dumbwaiter,” she said. Her voice echoed in the vertical passageway. “There has to be a dumbwaiter.”

Their conversation seemed innocent enough, but Thea felt a growing sense of apprehension partially caused by her sudden seclusion with Spence and partially because Jenny’s failure to appear felt ominous.

“I can’t imagine Jenny wasn’t waiting for us. She knew when we’d be gathered below, when we’d get here. Do you think there’s something wrong? Something…” she hesitated without warning on the stair and swallowed hard. “I don’t know…not quite right about all this?”

Spence had to step back down to avoid overtaking her. “Travis must have found his sister, don’t you think? Otherwise, he’d be yelling his head off.”

Thea straightened. “I’m sure you’re right.” She was worrying needlessly, still trembling with aftershocks from her panic attack in the gondola car.

They paused on a small landing outside a closed door.

“This is only the second floor,” Spence said. “I think we need to go one higher.”

Enclosed by solid stone walls, they were completely isolated from the others. Spence was surely right that Travis had found Jenny, and there wasn’t going to be a better time than this for a private conversation.

She faced Spence. Until now, she hadn’t noticed that he’d shed his parka. His teal-blue turtleneck emphasized the blue in his eyes and outlined the breadth of his shoulders. “Spence, we need to talk.”

Even in the dim light, she saw his frown. Like most men, Spence had never been fond of relationship discussions—not that they had a relationship anymore. She opened her mouth and took a bite out of the silence. “This is probably the most important weekend of Jenny’s life—”

“Agreed,” he said. His eyes bore into hers.

Her chin went up. “I don’t want to do anything to make it unpleasant for her.”

“Of course not. So?”

“So, you and I need to set some boundaries with each other.”

“Such as?”

“Let’s start with the basic premise that I’m not prepared to forgive and forget, Spence. There is absolutely no way we’ll ever again be involved. Not ever.” Though she’d kept her voice quiet, a resonating echo stirred the air, underscoring the finality of her words. “Is that understood?”

“I understand. Perfectly,” he added. “I just don’t believe you.”

She scowled. “Do you think I can’t resist you?”

“No,” he responded quickly. “But I don’t accept the concept of ‘never.’ It’s simple biology, Thea. All living things are constantly changing, transforming. We get better or we get worse, but we seldom stay the same.”

If he’d been anyone else, she would have applauded his observation. As a teacher of adolescents, she had to believe in the potential of human development. But the man who stood before her wasn’t one of her difficult students. He was her former fiancé, the individual who had humiliated her and single-handedly shattered important professional goals. Vital goals. She drew on a vast reservoir of bitterness for lost opportunities before speaking. “Trust me, Spence. My attitude toward you is rock-solid, and—”

“But,” he interrupted, “in an hour, you might feel different.”

“Differently.”

“Yes.” As if she had agreed she might, he nodded.

She wanted to stamp her foot. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m serious, Spence.”

He planted a hand on the stone-and-mortar wall high above her. “I know you are, Thea.”

“I’m not going to debate life science with you—”

“That’s a start.”

“—or philosophy or anything else. In fact—”

He gave her a lazy grin.

“Will you stop it, Spence!” This discussion wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. He was so near to her in this cold vault of a stone staircase that she could feel his heat. She tossed her chin-length bob and tried another tactic. “Let’s just agree on two things. We won’t squabble. And there will be no unnecessary touching. No kissing. Nothing.”

“Well, that’s hardly fair, Thea, after you spent the gondola ride groping me. You know—”

“I was not groping! I—”

“Okay, grabbing.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. His arrogance was devastating. “Okay,” he relented, “call it holding on. I just think I ought to have the chance to return that favor.”

His blue eyes warmed as he gazed confidently into her face, and she felt herself responding involuntarily, wanting to smile back at him. For an instant, she was tempted to open her arms wide and invite him to come closer. But no! Common sense prevailed. “Don’t even think about it, Spence.”

“I’ve got a few conditions of my own,” he said.

“So long as we don’t squabble and you—”

“Number one—we stay in the present and not dwell on the past.”

She gave him a look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I can see the wheels turning in that sweet, stubborn little head of yours, dredging up every unhappy memory, every accusation we ever threw at each other, every—”

“All right,” she cut him off. “We’ll stick to the present.” Did he think that somehow altered her conditions?

“And not dwell in the past. That’s the important part, Thea.”

Grudgingly, she nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Number two—we both keep our minds open.”

Thea said, “I’ve never been close-minded. How could you even accuse me of—”

“Number three…”

He obliterated the distance between them in a single step. His unexpected approach threw her off-balance. The surrounding walls seemed to shrink tightly around her. She felt trapped as much by the intensity of her suppressed emotions as by him—but there should be no mistake. She was trapped in his arms.

When his hands glided around her shoulders, she should have pushed him away. Hadn’t he listened to a word she’d been saying?

She didn’t want him.

He revolted her.

But none of that, clearly, was true, because her arms went around him as if he hadn’t been gone all these years. Her fingers reveled in the feel of his hard muscles beneath the soft cotton of his turtleneck.

A part of her smirked. What was she doing? This was insanity. She’d forgotten all about her missing friend, and the conditions she had set out were being trampled. But her head tilted back and her objections died in her throat, vanishing into the thin musty air as she met his dazzling gaze. She realized that all she really wanted was the feel of Spence Cannon’s shoulders beneath her fingers.

She wanted the taste of his lips against hers.

Reading her mind from long experience, Spence complied. The hard pressure of his mouth satisfied a longing she’d fought to deny and then to ignore when her denial mechanisms failed her.

Her heartbeat quickened. An all-consuming passion exploded in the very core of her being, heightening numbed sensation to a tantalizing, trembling, voracious desire.

More.

She wanted more. She wanted a hundred more kisses. She wanted to touch his body, his bare-naked flesh. And more than that! She yearned for his caresses, the feel of his hands on her breasts, her thighs, she wanted his lips, the touch of his tongue to the dimples in the small of her back.

In a distant corner of her mind, the part that smirked, Thea knew she was dangerously close to making a big mistake, opening herself to all sorts of emotional pain. Sex with Spence, desire, had never been an issue, never a problem—except that it was so good, so desperately good that it had overwhelmed real problems for too long.

Against the aching thrill of his hand caressing her breast beneath her parka and the heat of his breath on her neck, she knew she had to stop him. Had to stifle her own sensual impulses before they destroyed her. There was a reason she’d asked him not to touch her. When he touched her, she lost track of the fact that he didn’t respect her at all, or at least he hadn’t—and his behavior in every other way had proved it, if only she’d been looking.

With the shred of willpower left her, she tore herself away from him.

He didn’t force her to stay in his embrace. Nor had he forced the kiss. Thea had had ample time to object, and she hadn’t warned him away. She’d asked him not to touch her, but when he came near enough, she’d allowed it. Craved it. And she really couldn’t blame him for her own lapse in good judgment. He had offered, and she had wantonly and unwisely accepted.

In a ragged voice, she vowed, “That can’t happen again.”

“Thea—”

But his impassioned plea, whatever he had been going to say, was interrupted from the top of the narrow staircase by a shout. It was Travis, calling his sister’s name. “Jenny! What’s the hap, woman? Where are you?”

Thea spun away from Spence and flew up through the stairwell on shaky legs. There was no handrail and she braced herself against the rough stones and crumbling mortar.

Standing at the door leading to the third floor, Thea gathered her composure, taking steady breaths to calm the ridiculous fluttering in her chest. She tore off her parka, hoping to ease the intense heat that flushed her body.

The third-floor landing was lit by wall sconces and a high chandelier. In contrast to the dank gloom of the servant’s staircase, the decor was bright and clean with white-on-beige wallpaper above polished wood wainscoting. An octagonal Persian-style rug covered the wood floor. Travis—in his red and yellow ski clothes—looked too modern and out-of-place.