Page 6 of Better Off Wed
“Peachy,” I bit off just as Gideon snarled, “Fantastic.” Then we looked at each other again and narrowed our eyes.
“Okay, well, I thought I might remind you that you’ve got an audience.” The best man tilted his head toward the pews.
I blinked, and my stomach bottomed out. I’d forgotten. I’d—what had actually just happened to me? I’d been so taken with Gideon that nothing else had registered in my brain. Not the murmurs, or the rustle of clothes, or the creaking of the pews, or the scent of burning candles, or the light of the stained-glass window, or the three outrageously large peacock feathers that trembled a few feet above an old woman’s head in the front row.The feathers were attached to the wide-brimmed royal blue hat that crowned her riot of ice-white curls. The woman’s gaze was utterly steady as she watched the two of us. She blinked once and graced us with a serene, beatific smile.
Etta Mars. Gideon’s grandmother, the mastermind behind this whole thing, evidently approved of me—of whatever was happening between me and Gideon. Or she was getting ready to stab me in my sleep. Or she was senile and busy watching monkeys swing around the vines growing inside her brain.
I turned back to my husband-to-be, and once again was stunned by the intensity of his gaze. He met my eyes for a long moment, then, very quietly, murmured, “Last chance, Sadie.”
I decided I hated when he said my name. It threw me off-balance a little too much for comfort. “For what?” I managed to grate out.
“To back out.”
My smile held no humor. “Nice try. Won’t be that easy to get rid of me.”
At my words, energy zapped between us. It must have only lasted a second or two, but it felt like every atom of my body, every cell living and growing and dying in that moment, was utterly focused on Gideon. The harsh light in his eyes. The shape of his lips. The bob of his throat as he swallowed once, twice. The decision that came over him, that almost audibly snapped an invisible thread that had been holding him back. “Suit yourself,” he said, and wrapped both hands around my waist to lift me up to the top of the dais. I wobbled, and his hands tightened as he joined me there and faced me. My own hands landed on his arms, clenching against the hard muscle I found there. He was so tense I worried he was made of stone.
Breath sawed in and out of my lungs, and I couldn’t stop staring. Light flickered on both sides of his face, colored by the stained glass over the scars, white over the unblemished skin. His hair was thick, and I itched to run my fingers through it. He was brutal and pitiless and magnetic. I was pretty sure I was halfway in love with him already.
“Like what you see?” he grated, lips twisted. I knew he was referring to the damaged skin on his left side.
“Yes,” I told him, and it was the truth. The scars were just scars—we all had those. Only mine weren’t visible on my body.
My response didn’t seem to please him. His jaw tensed, his eyes searching mine as if to try to expose my deception. Looking for a way out, even now.
“DEARLY BELOVED,” boomed a voice beside me. I jumped, and Gideon dropped his hands from my body. I did the same, feeling a rush of cold sweep through me. I turned to see a short and very round man in white robes. He looked like a marshmallow. He was entirely bald, and his head shone with various colors from the stained-glass windows behind him. He thrust his arms out to the sides, robe sleeves billowing like wings. The church organ rang with a dramatic chord, the noise echoing into the high arches above us. “WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY?—”
“Reverend Strife,” murmured the best man. He handed over a microphone. “Here.”
“He won’t need that,” Gideon interrupted, intercepting the microphone, turning it off, and passing it back to his brother. “Strife, just cut to the chase.”
The reverend’s head went red all over, his arms falling back to his sides. “Pardon me?”
“Man, wife, kiss.” A muscle on Gideon’s cheek spasmed when he said the last word, but his gaze remained hard as he stared at the minister. “You know the drill. We don’t need theatrics.” He turned to look over the church, face angled up at the balcony above the front door. “That goes double for you, Marigold!”
The organ played a sadwomp-womp-wooommmpsound, and I had to roll my lips to stop from laughing. Gideon didn’t look quite so amused. He glared at the balcony, then at me.
A thrill went through me, dive-bombing through my stomach and landing somewhere between my thighs. We both turned to the reverend.
Reverend Strife looked at me as if to say,Control your husband, which was a bit rich considering I’d met Gideon five minutes ago. I shrugged and said, “I do?”
“Was that a question?” Gideon asked, ocean blue eyes blinking over to meet mine. “You better be sure about this, because as soon as we sign the wedding certificate, you’ll be my wife.”
He made it sound like a threat, which I didn’t appreciate. I narrowed my eyes. “And you’ll be my husband.”
“Poor you,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the reverend. “Do it, Strife.”
The reverend arched a brow. “Take the bride’s hands in your own.”
Gideon gritted his teeth. The reverend waited. Finally, Gideon huffed a breath and grabbed my hands. His gaze touched mine for an instant, then turned back to the reverend. I tried to pretend I wasn’t trembling, the pads of my fingers nestled in his big,callused palms.
“Do you, Gideon Mars, take Sadie Geo”—the reverend frowned—“Geog”—he cleared his throat—“gee-oh-hee-gan?—”
“It’s pronounced gay-gun,” I said, forcing another smile. After today, I wouldn’t have to correct people on the pronunciation of Geoghegan every time my last name came up. I wouldn’t have to spell it over the phone while failing to remember the NATO phonetic alphabet. From today onward, I would be Sadie Mars. Four letters. Nice and simple. That upgrade was worth a lifetime with a sexy grump who found me repulsive. I hoped.
Reverend Strife glared at me. “Why is it spelled like this if it’s pronounced gay-gun?” he demanded.
“I do,” Gideon interjected forcefully. “Now do her.”
