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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

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BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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Matt studied the waifish sprite next to him. “But
Stephanie’s
more to you than that?”
She nodded. “The day she popped into my brain, she was doing something outrageous—and there she was—full-blown, bursting to get on the paper.”
“And she’s been doing the outrageous ever since.”
Brynn looked at him in surprise. “You read the strip?”
“Who doesn’t?”
Again she looked shy, embarrassed. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t say—”
“You know it’s a successful cartoon?”
“It does okay.”
He couldn’t help raising his eyebrows.
Okay
? It was a nationally syndicated comic strip, one that had its own line of merchandise. Yet, she seemed uncomfortable with the praise, or possibly her success.
Since he wasn’t comfortable with people probing at his motives or feelings, either, to change the subject he pointed at the mountains she’d admired. “These are the Wellsvilles—the steepest mountains in America.”
Properly impressed, she gazed upward. “They all seem overwhelming. But I thought these were the Rockies.”
“The Wellsvilles are part of the Rockies.” The truck navigated a sharp turn and Brym stared downward at a sheer cliff that plunged from the narrow precipice into a canyon that looked as though it was miles wide and equally deep.
“They’re certainly something,” she commented in an unnaturally high voice, her eyes wide as she calculated the small distance between the truck and the yawning depths of the canyon.
“In the next valley there’s a turquoise gem filled with water—Bear Lake. In the summer when you crest the summit before the valley, and the sun hits the water, you’d swear something that clear and pure aqua has to be fake. You look for the chlorine and the pumps.”
“How does it stay like that?”
“It’s a prehistoric formation. Beneath the surfaced are the peaks of an ancient mountain range, so it’s incredibly deep.”
“And incredibly clear,” Brynn murmured. “I’d love to see it some time.”
The truck easily took the next precarious turn. “Until then you can see the Bear River. It runs through our property.”
“I love all the icy mountain streams,” she confessed. “They’re so pristine they don’t look real Just like the first time I saw a mountain sunset. It looked like something a painter or postcard artist dreamed up—so beautiful it wasn’t believable.”
Matt felt admiration flare. “I guess I don’t think about how people not living here see it for the first time.” He laughed wryly. “Even though we put out brochures describing it in great detail.”
“It’s not always easy to see something you’re so close to.”
His gaze flickered to one side. “You’re right about that.” Seeing the cutoff on the road, he turned, gravel crunching beneath the truck’s wide tires. “This is where we get out.”
He’d barely spoken when the alarm on her watch buzzed.
“Bus to catch?” he questioned, his brow raised in surprise.
Embarrassed, she quickly turned off the alarm. “I set alarms to remind myself when I need to do something.”
“Forgetful, are you?”
“Guess you could say that. I set alarms so I’ll look at the notes I’ve written to remind myself to do certain things.”
He glanced over her thoroughly. “I don’t see any notes.”
Warmed beneath his scrutiny, she had to clear her throat. “I didn’t bring the note.”
“Anything important?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t
think
so?”
She shrugged, knowing other people found her forgetfulness and disorganization hard to understand. “It was probably to remind myself to finish the strips in time for the shuttle driver to take them to the express office.”
“Should we skip the ride so yon can make your deadline?”
Brynn considered, then decided it was the chicken’s way out. Besides, her conscience needed the relief of telling the truth when possible. “No. Actually, tomorrow’s shuttle will be better. Then I’ll have more time to go over the final product.”
He studied her for just a moment before exiting the truck.
Brynn waited as Matt opened her door, silently appreciating the mannerly gesture, especially in the rugged surroundings. But she watched him unload the four-wheeler with trepidation. Never the athletic sort, she felt gangly and awkward doing anything other than the simplest things. She’d been relieved to see only one ATV, and assumed that meant he would be driving. She fervently hoped that Matt did all the steering and the only thing she had to do was hold on. For dear life, she reminded herself.
“Do these all-terrain vehicles hurt the ecology of the land?” It was a desperate ploy.
“Obviously people impact the environment, but as long as we only leave footprints and not destruction, we’re not disturbing the balance.”
“Uh-huh.” No help there. “Is there much to riding one of these things?” she asked, hoping to sound casual, knowing she failed miserably.
His gaze settled on her for a moment. “Nothing to worry about Just hang on.”
Brynn couldn’t prevent a sigh of relief.
“They’re pretty harmless,” Matt continued.
Meeting his gaze, she saw that he had sensed her anxiety. “I’m sure they are. I’ve just never been on one.”
He grinned suddenly, changing tactics. “Then you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
Incredibly, his excitement was contagious. She found her fear fading as he held out a tanned, strong hand. Tentatively she accepted his grip and climbed on the vehicle behind him, far to the rear, at the edge of the seat. As she searched for a place to hold on. Matt twisted around.
“Unless you plan to fly off when we hit the first rock, you’d better move up and hold on.”
Gingerly she scooted forward. “To what?”
“Me.”
“Oh.” With great care she touched two fingers from each hand to his waist.
He shook his head, then reached out and took both her hands, clamping them firmly around his waist. She gulped, feeling hard muscle beneath the denim covering his lean hips, trying to ignore the fact that she was pressed into the ungiving line of his back. But before she could assimilate the sensations, they were moving.
Expecting to be terrified, instead she was exhilarated as they traveled down the mountainside, the breeze hitting her cheeks, flattening Matt’s shirt to his skin, sending her unexpected laughter into the trees.
Expertly, he drove the trail and Brynn could understand the appeal of these freedom machines, easily forging a path where on-the-road vehicles dared not go.
On her own, Brynn would never have ventured into something this out of the ordinary, this different from her normal, safe life. Which was why it felt all that much more exciting.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to recapture the days before the MacKenzies had whisked her away—me sameness, the loneliness. Now each moment was filled with something new.
Matt turned just then, flashing his even-toothed white smile. And suddenly she focused more on how handsome Matt was than on the thrill of this new experience. He had eyes like a cougar, she realized—green with enough gold flecks to give an air of mystery to his Marlboro-man looks. Suddenly the pit in her stomach had nothing to do with the lingering traces of fear from riding the four-wheeler. It was a far different kind of fear.
“We’re on a snowmobiling trail,” he shouted above the wind. “Farther up it’s still covered in snow, and in winter this part will be, too.”
Brynn jerked her attention away from his magnetic pull to look again at the wilderness. It was hard to imagine the blanket of snow to come while juniper and lupine scented the air and columbine, Jacob’s ladder, sego lilies and wild roses scattered amid the knee-high wild grass, poking their scarlet, fragile pink, ivory and amethyst heads skyward.
“But it’s so wonderful right now,” she shouted back.
His grin widened. “Enough to bring in tourists?”
“I was young and foolish when I thought that,” she replied with a grin of her own, not knowing where her sudden daring sprang from. For a moment she’d imagined what Stephanie would have done in the circumstances. But Brynn didn’t think she was brave enough to insist on driving the ATV as Stephanie would have done.
Matt threw his head back and laughed, a husky, richly masculine sound that warmed something deep inside. Brynn hadn’t felt anything like that since the first time she saw Gregory on the jogging paths, when he’d brushed by so closely she’d nearly tripped. He’d said, “Excuse me,” and her heart had nearly stopped. That was when she’d known that Gregory was the one.
Gregory
!
She’d nearly forgotten him in the heady rush of new awakenings. Closing her eyes, she pictured the wedding album, Gregory’s strong face, his assertive manner, the many things she admired about him...the many things she’d fantasized about him and the life they would have together.
Without realizing it, Brynn loosened her grip. The four-wheeler hit a bump and she flew up, slamming into Matt’s back, nearly unseating him. Definitely unseating her daydreams.
He reached back to steady her, grazing her breasts as he grasped her arm.
Brynn froze.
When Matt didn’t immediately release her arm, she felt her heart begin to gallop, racing with the growing pit in her stomach to see which would knock her flat first.
She tried desperately to guess what Stephanie would do. And knew without a doubt that Stephanie had never encountered a man like Matt.
And neither had she.
Chapter Five
M
att reread the fax, translating the bureaucratic double-talk They didn’t know anything more about Gregory. To all intents, he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. But Matt suspected that very image was strategy—to force his brother’s firm to give in to their demands when they were presented.
Yet, Matt couldn’t stop the unwanted thought that maybe something more drastic had happened to Gregory. Even though they hadn’t been as close since his brother had moved to the city, there was still a strong connection. That connection told him Gregory was alive. And no doubt kicking and screaming that he was being deprived of his espresso, penthouse apartment, and Armani suits.
Yet the fax burned in his hand. It wasn’t the sort of news his parents needed—especially his father. Frank MacKenzie’s precarious health had worsened considerably with Gregory’s disappearance. Even though his father tried to hide it, Matt could see that the daily strain was stealing his energy and what remained of his health.
And although Ruth MacKenzie made quite a show of keeping a brave, upbeat appearance, Matt could see that she was doing so only for her family’s sake. Fearful over her husband’s worsening health, worried about Heather’s and Andy’s reactions, Ruth was determined to be a pillar of strength. But Matt could see the cracks in that pillar.
His younger siblings were worried, too. Fourteen-year-old Heather, who’d always worshiped everything about her oldest brother, had been hit especially hard. Her constant laughter had diminished, along with the groups of kids that had always hung out at Eagle Point. Now only her closest friends came to visit and even those were quiet visits. And Andy spent far more time in his room than he ever had before—a highly unnatural state for a nine-year-old.
Remarkably, the one thing that glued his family together and gave them hope was Brynn.
Despite how ill-suited she seemed to be for Gregory, Brynn was the embodiment of the hope all the MacKenzies had mustered.
Yet Matt still wondered. The more he learned about her convinced him that she and Gregory were more likely to share a shuttle to Mars than a marriage.
She couldn’t be any more different than his success-driven brother. Yet, he could see why any man would be drawn to her.
That elusive, elfin quality of hers, hidden behind all the barriers she erected, was a challenge—the kind of challenge he guessed had pushed Gregory into making an uncharacteristic move.
Matt’s thoughts returned to how Brynn had looked in the jeans, his reaction when he’d accidentally brushed her breasts. Neither feeling had been the least bit brotherly. And with the fax still in his hand, Matt felt a pang of disloyalty so strong he winced.
Walking out of the office area, he heard a babble of voices, mostly feminine. But at Eagle Point, there could be any number of reasons for a gathering—not that his mother’s friends always needed one.
As he rounded the corner into the lobby he spotted his aunt Miranda in the middle of a group of nearly a dozen women. But all the attention was focused elsewhere. On Brynn.
Folding his arms, Matt leaned against the antique sideboard, watching. And listening.
Miranda tried to get the group under control. “I’m sorry. I forgot about our quilting day. But what with the excitement about Gregory and then Brynn coming, I just lost track of the days.”
The babble broke out again and Miranda clapped her hands together. “I’m getting the feeling that you’d all rather talk to Brynn than quilt, anyway.”
Wilma, owner of the gift shop, smiled unabashedly. “Word got around about how these two met....”
Matt’s ears pricked up. That was a story he’d like to hear.
“And everyone just can’t believe how you’ve changed Gregory,” Wilma continued, her attention turned toward Brynn.
“I wouldn’t say
changed,”
Brynn tried to protest.
Becky, a woman who looked younger than her forty years, spoke up. “We’d love to see your wedding album.” She smiled wistfully. “Ruth told us the pictures were wonderful.”
Brynn tried to demur again, but they wouldn’t hear of it.
“We really want to see the pictures,” Wilma nearly pleaded.
“Please,” Karen chimed in. Brynn recognized her as well from town, along with Jean, a woman who sat by her side. “I just love wedding pictures.”
“We all do,” Jean agreed. “Lord knows why, when marriage comes along with it, but I guess we’re just saps about the romance thing.” A recent divorcee, Jean held little stock in love and marriage these days.
“Actually, I’m not sure just where I put the album,” Brynn evaded, her conscience prickling since she knew exactly where it was—prominently displayed as the centerpiece of her room. She spent every spare moment studying the pictures, dreaming of her reunion—rather, her meeting—with Gregory.
“I’ve got the album the photographer sent us,” Ruth volunteered. “And I know just where it is.”
As she disappeared, Brynn wished for some sort of escape hatch. Instead, the ladies crowded around closer. It was gratifying that they were so welcoming since it was something she’d never before experienced. But Brynn knew she was an impostor, that the person they were inviting into their fold didn’t exist; and that made their welcome bittersweet
In what seemed like seconds, Ruth returned with the wedding album. Knowing she was sunk, Brynn took a seat in the middle of the long, leather couch. Miranda sat next to her and, glancing up, Brynn caught her encouraging look. Sensing a sympathetic, possibly even kindred spirit, Brynn was grateful for her presence.
Then Ruth opened the album, sighing as she traced her fingers over the first picture, her eyes fixed on Gregory’s clear, confident expression.
Brynn felt a new spurt of guilt. Was this too cruel? Should she just confess everything now, tell these kind people the truth?
“I’m so glad you two found each other,” Ruth murmured. “I always worried about Gregory.... But, now, I know at least he found the right partner in life.” With visible effort, she brightened. “The pictures are wonderful, ladies. But I’ll let Brynn take you through them.”
Ruth closed the album before passing it along. Miranda accepted the album from her sister-in-law and gave Brynn an encouraging pat as she handed her the book. Brynn took a deep breath, remembering all the scenarios she had created in her mind since she’d had the album made. She had told the photographer that she wanted to create an album since she and Gregory had eloped.
Of course, Brynn could hardly confide that she’d chosen the casual wedding photos because the more formal ones required group—especially family—sittings. This way there were no gaps where parents and siblings should be, where the best man and maid of honor would be missed.
Brynn wondered how she would explain this odd choice, the casual poses. Then an unbidden thought popped into her head. What would her strip’s heroine do? Fearless Stephanie wouldn’t let a bunch of curious women intimidate her. No, she’d invent a story that would make her “wedding” seem like the ideal ceremony, one all these hard-core romantics would sigh over.
She’d had a huge selection of computer-enhanced locations to choose from—everything from the nondescript to the wildly exotic. The images were taken from genuine photos and the resulting pictures of the bride and groom looked equally genuine.
For Brynn, the choice of locations had been easy. All of her life she’d dreamed of the land of her ancestors. The stories of Ireland that her grandmother Magee had told her as a child had never been forgotten. Losing her grandmother when she’d been only ten years old had been the most traumatic event of her young life. But while her loving presence was gone, her stories had never been forgotten.
And Brynn had imagined a wedding set somewhere between the green fields and windswept moors of Ireland. Amid thatched cottages and stone-cobbled roads. For a moment, Brynn stared down at the album that she had lovingly studied for so many hours.
Clearing her throat, she opened the first page. “As you all know, Gregory and I eloped.”
Matt settled in to listen, anticipating the details. But just then one of the clerks caught his attention, needing his decision on a tour reservation, a group that wanted to book nearly the entire lodge.
While Matt was diverted, several heads nodded and Brynn tried to regain Stephanie’s courage.
“A lot of people don’t understand why a couple elopes—the magic, the spirit of romance that captures them.”
The heads that nodded were now sighing.
Brynn held up the album, showing them the first page—just her face and Gregory’s in cutout ovals. “And I wanted a record of our courtship, so that’s the kind of album we have. It’s not traditional, but it tells our story. And this is us when we first met.”
There was a chorus of oohs and aahs.
Taking a deep breath, Brynn turned the page. She and Gregory were aloft in a balloon that soared over the mountains in Park City. “And this is...when Gregory proposed” A bit of impish Stephanie crept in. “He knew I wasn’t likely to refuse at those heights.”
Laughter greeted her words, and emboldened, Brynn turned the next page, warming to the dream wedding she’d always wanted.
She and Gregory stood in the forefront of the picture, but an ancient stone church dominated the background. “This is the place we chose to exchange our vows.”
“Where is that?” Wilma asked. “Doesn’t look like any place I’m familiar with.”
Brynn smiled. “It’s in Ireland.”
“Ireland?” Wilma questioned along with most of the other women. Matt turned back at that moment and the expression on his face echoed the others’ sentiments. “Why did you get married in Ireland?” Wilma asked, as though Brynn had named a colony on Mars or perhaps one of the “Star Trek” destinations.
Brynn called on Stephanie’s courage and her grandmother’s memories. “Because it’s always been so special to me. As a Magee, I grew up hearing stories about the home of my ancestors from my grandmother.” She warmed to the tale. “And I’d dreamed about the land—from muddy mountainside sheep trails to old country roads that wound through the forests. I wanted to explore the west coast from Shannon to the Killarney Lakes to the Kerry Way Trail.” Her voice unintentionally softened. “To see every inch of County Cork from the wild mountain lands of the west—to the great castles—to the tiny villages sheltered by the mountains and caressed by the seas.” Brynn halted, embarrassed by her rush of poetic wanderings. Clearing her throat, she averted her head, staring at the album rather than her rapt audience as she tried to make her tone matter-of fact. “Gregory knew that and was happy to go there.”
Turning the page, the next picture was of the beautiful Irish countryside where the church stood. She and Gregory were silhouetted against the misty lowlands.
“It looks kind of remote,” Miranda noticed.
“It is,” Brynn agreed. “It’s on the way to Brandon’s Cottage in the Macgillycuddy Reeks mountains. This little country town’s just a tiny place—this is the only church.”
“Not an easy place to have a formal wedding. That would have been a difficult place to invite guests if you hadn’t eloped,” Ruth noticed, a new light shining in her eyes.
“Absolutely,” Brynn agreed. “Miranda was right. It’s extremely remote. Not the sort of place you’d hop off a plane and whiz to the nearest Hyatt.”
“Doesn’t seem like Gregory’s sort of thing,” Wilma commented. “I thought he’d go for a big society splash.”
“Which isn’t my sort of thing,” Brynn answered, knowing it was true. She would hate to be the center of a huge, highly orchestrated wedding.
“You
have
changed that man,” Wilma said with a laugh.
Knowing it would do no good to argue, Brynn turned the pages. The next photo was the first one of them in full bridal dress. She couldn’t help lingering on this picture as she always did. The computer image of the dress she’d chosen was no less than a wonder. Exquisite Irish lace, a breathtaking headdress that for once made it look as though her dark hair was not completely wild, it was a wedding ensemble that had hovered in her imagination for years. A few quick sketches on her part, which were then translated by the computer, had made it a reality.
Now the oohs and aahs filled the lobby.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Wilma breathed, her own romantic nature peeking through. “It’s as though the lace was spun by elves.”
The other women chimed in with soft exclamations of delight.
“It’s exquisite,” Becky uttered through a dreamy sigh.
“You make a gorgeous couple,” Cynthia offered.
“Even a cynic like me recognizes true love,” Jean agreed.
Touched by their support, Brynn managed to smile as she turned the next pages.
Pictures of her walking hand in hand with Gregory through the countryside; a tiny country inn that she told them had been their honeymoon spot; arm in arm in front of Ross Castle. Then an evocative picture of them standing on the edge of the Cliffs of Moher on the Atlantic coast. Waves crashed against the rocks, sending spray upward, just beyond the happy-looking couple.
BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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