When she walked down the aisle at the church, her heart hammering so loudly in her ears that she felt light-headed, Atreus turned to watch her progress. He treated her to a keen head-to-toe appraisal, taking in the off-the-shoulder wedding gown which faithfully followed her womanly curves and complemented them with its simple, understated design. His stunning eyes gleamed like molten gold, and her mouth ran dry because she knew that look, recognising that irrefutably sexual smoulder in his gaze with a leap of answering response and profound relief.
‘You look ravishing,’ Atreus told her in a roughened undertone when she drew level with him.
It was the most personal thing he had said to her in weeks, and her bosom swelled with pride. He held her hand, his thumb gently caressing the soft inner skin of her wrist, and while little quivers of growing awareness rippled through her body, her brain tossed out the doom-laden thoughts that had been tormenting her.
The ring on her wedding finger, Lindy accompanied Atreus back down the aisle, a buoyant sense of contentment powering her. They would be great together, she promised herself, and she would work so hard at their marriage. She would be a brilliant wife in every way possible.
Those uplifting ambitions shrieked to a sudden forced halt outside when Lindy, watching as the Dionides security team went toe-to-toe with the paparazzi, noticed an unexpected face in the crush. Eyes widening, she stared at Krista Perris, sheathed in a body-hugging bright scarlet dress and with a tiny feathered fascinator on her blonde head that was the last word in cute frivolity. She looked dazzling, and all the men in her vicinity were sucking in their stomachs and straightening their shoulders in the hope of attracting her attention.
As Lindy slid into the wedding limo, she wasted no time in venting her annoyance. ‘What’s Krista Perris doing here?’ she demanded.
Atreus frowned. ‘Why shouldn’t she be here? My family and hers have been friendly for many years.’
‘I didn’t realise that,’ Lindy admitted gruffly, already regretting her revealing outburst.
‘It would have been unthinkable to remove her name from the guest list, but I’m surprised she decided to attend,’ Atreus commented, turning his handsome dark head to take another look at the diminutive blonde, his bold bronzed profile clenching taut. ‘She looks very well.’
That was all Atreus had to say to put Lindy’s nose out of joint, and Lindy was unable to suppress the thought that it was her wedding, her day, and that Krista Perris had probably had the joy of being eye-catching, beautiful and the centre of attention every day of her entire life. Although resenting Krista’s presence made Lindy feel like a mean, jealous cat, she couldn’t help feeling insecure and threatened. She reckoned that Atreus was to blame for her feelings by not being more frank with her—until it occurred to her that she would have felt a great deal worse had he told her that he was in love with Krista. His honesty, she conceded heavily, would only be welcome if he was able to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. And that comforting conclusion seemed unlikely when she recognised his tension at the slightest reminder of the other woman.
At the reception, held at an exclusive hotel, Lindy caught hold of her little flower girl, Alissa and Sergei’s daughter Evelina, before she could run in front of a waiter laden with a tray of glasses. She then paused to check her hair in a huge gilt wall mirror.
‘You look pretty,’ Evelina piped.
‘Thank you,’ Lindy was saying with a smile when, without warning, another face joined hers in the reflection and made her stiffen in sharp disconcertion.
It was Krista Perris, flamboyant as a flame in her red dress and fascinator, a silken swathe of blonde hair framing her intent face as she stared back at Lindy with malicious eyes. ‘You’re the wrong bride,’ she pronounced softly. ‘And Atreus and everyone here knows it. He’ll never stay with you.’
A split second later Krista had moved on, leaving Lindy temporarily unsure that her cool and derisive indictment had actually been said out loud. But the proof was in the hair which had risen at the nape of her neck and the gooseflesh on her bare arms.
The wrong bride. It was a label that hit Lindy hard. Even so, she hadn’t been able to prevent the same thought from occurring to her when she first laid eyes on Krista, whose smooth sophistication and social assurance acted as a perfect mirror for Atreus’s own.
Of course Krista hated her, Lindy reasoned, while the speeches were being made and her mind was free to drift. Guilt was biting deeply into Lindy. Krista and Atreus had been seeing each other and, whether she liked it or not, their relationship had become serious enough for Atreus to consider marriage. Then out of the blue had come the revelation that Atreus had an ex-mistress, pregnant with his child, and Krista’s romance had crashed in flames. Naturally Krista was bitter. She must have been hurt, Lindy reflected uneasily, her conscience stinging at the knowledge that her decision not to tell Atreus about her pregnancy was responsible for his breaking up with Krista. How must Krista feel, witnessing Atreus’s marriage to another woman when only a couple of months ago Atreus had been Krista’s lover?