The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,9

I shall see that he is no longer welcome in this house.”

“What are you going to do?” Eleanor didn’t like asking a question that would keep her mother longer, but she had to know.

“I shall have a talk with your father.” Matilda sucked in her breath. “Get to the bottom of this lunacy. Good night, Eleanor.”

With that she turned to leave and Eleanor gave a sigh of relief. And opened her hand where she clutched the note John Bonner secreted in her palm before he left.

Four

She had lost her mind.

Eleanor was certain that was the only explanation.

Why else would she be hurrying down the orchard path toward the beach, the sun barely a shimmer separating sky and sea?

The walkway, used primarily by the gardeners, was wet with morning dew and Eleanor paused, wondering for the hundredth time if she were doing the right thing. Of course she wasn’t. She should be tucked into her huge, intricately carved bed, the heavy velvet curtains blocking out air and light. But the realization only sent her scurrying faster down the slope.

He stood, where the note said he’d be, in the shade of the elms where the apple and pear trees met the unyielding coastal rocks. But then from the moment she read his bold scrawl asking her to meet him, she never doubted he would come. It was her own willingness she’d questioned. Though in truth, had there ever been any uncertainty?

The crash of the surf over the rocks was loud, but he must have heard her approach, for he turned his head, smiling when he saw her.

Eleanor only thought she was breathless before. Now she truly was. “I... I came as you asked. But I don’t understand why you did.”

“Don’t you?” John took a step toward her, then stopped when he noticed her stiffen. This probably wasn’t one of his better ideas, but meeting her at social functions wasn’t working as he planned. They were always surrounded by people, barely able to say two words to each other. And then it was obvious her mother was doing her best to keep them separated... if only by the length of a food-laden table.

Still, getting her alone was only part of the problem. And he certainly wasn’t confident she would come when he passed her the note last night. The fact that she did pleased him immensely. As well as did the look of her this morning.

She obviously dressed in a hurry, and by all appearances without the aid of a lady’s maid. Her gown was white and flowing, showing off her slender frame and making him wonder if she normally used padding to disguise her lithe figure. Matilda Fiske’s doing, he decided with an inward frown. For without the heavy dark gowns and with her pale blond hair swirling about her face Eleanor was quite pretty.

It took him a moment to realize she’d asked him something, another to realize he’d been staring, quite taken aback by her appearance. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Merely, that I haven’t a clue why you asked me to meet you.” Not exactly a lie but then not exactly the truth either. She was surprised by the note, but on some elemental level longed for the chance to see him again.

“I wanted to talk to you. And it seemed we were forever being interrupted.”

“What is Montana like?”

She surprised him with the question. He expected more discussion about the note. “It’s big and open.”

“Do you live in a large house there?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “Most of the time I live in a boardinghouse near the main mine. Sometimes I camp when I visit other mines.”

“In a tent?” She cocked her head and looked up at him.

“Just under the stars usually,” John said with a shrug. “I also have a cabin I built in the mountains above Butte.” He didn’t know why he told her that except that he was proud of the place even though it was small and rustic. Certainly nothing that would interest her. Except she did seem interested.

“You built it yourself?”

“I had some help, but yes, most of it I did myself.”

She brushed a wisp of hair from her face and smiled. “I should like to see that, Mr. Bonner. A house you built yourself.”

She seemed sincere, but one glance behind them was all the reminder he needed about what she was used to. “I’ve bought property in New York, on Fifth Avenue and plan to begin constructing a large house soon.”

“Whatever for?” She walked from