Chapter 1 - The Man Who Kissed the Bride
The stranger reached Isabella before anyone understood that he had left his seat.
One moment she was standing beneath a crystal chandelier in Charleston’s most expensive private ceremony hall, Cameron Blake’s hand around hers, two hundred and twelve guests watching a minister prepare to pronounce them husband and wife.
The next moment, a dark-haired man stepped between the white roses.
Isabella saw his face.
Her bouquet slipped half an inch in her hand.
“No.”
The word barely left her lips.
Julian Crowe caught her shoulders.
Then he kissed her.
Once.
Briefly.
Shock froze Isabella for less than a second.
Then instinct returned.
She shoved him backward with both hands.
“Are you insane?”
Gasps traveled through the room.
Cameron moved before the nearest groomsman did.
He crossed the space between them, seized Julian by the lapels of his dark suit, and drove him backward against the ceremonial table.
Glasses rattled.
He did not punch him.
That restraint was more frightening than violence.
“You just kissed my bride.”
Julian looked at Cameron’s fist twisted in his jacket.
“Yes.”
Cameron’s voice dropped.
“You have three seconds to tell me who you are.”
Julian’s eyes moved past him.
Toward Isabella.
“Don’t ask me.”
Cameron’s grip tightened.
“Two.”
“Ask her.”
Silence spread through the hall.
Cameron turned his head.
“Isabella?”
She stood motionless.
Her face had lost all color.
The bouquet trembled.
“Cameron, don’t listen to him.”
Julian gave a humorless smile.
“So you still haven’t told him.”
“Shut up.”
Isabella’s voice cracked across the hall.
Julian looked directly at Cameron.
“I’m not her ex.”
He paused.
“I’m her husband.”
The room became so quiet that someone’s chair creaked three rows back.
Cameron slowly released Julian.
He turned toward Isabella completely.
She was crying now.
Not the soft tears of a bride overwhelmed by a ceremony.
This was terror.
“Tell me he’s lying.”
“I can explain.”
“One question.”
Cameron’s voice remained controlled.
“Did you divorce him?”
Isabella opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Julian reached inside his jacket.
Isabella’s expression changed instantly.
“Don’t.”
He removed a cream-colored document envelope.
“Julian, don’t give him that.”
Cameron looked at her.
The plea had told him more than the envelope.
Julian opened it and drew out a certified document far enough for the heading to show.
MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
Cameron stared.
Julian spoke quietly.
“She can’t answer your question.”
He held the paper between two fingers.
“Because on paper, she’s still my wife.”
Cameron looked at Isabella as though he no longer recognized the woman in front of him.
“You were about to marry me while you still had a husband?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
Julian’s eyes shifted toward Cameron.
“Ask her something else.”
Isabella whispered, “Don’t.”
Julian ignored her.
“Ask her why she thought I was dead.”
Cameron’s head snapped toward her.
“What?”
The minister stood frozen.
Cameron’s mother had risen from the first row.
Isabella’s father was already moving toward the aisle.
But Cameron saw only Isabella.
“You thought he was dead?”
She looked at Julian.
Really looked.
His eyes.
The faint scar beside his temple.
The way his left shoulder sat slightly lower than his right.
Six years vanished.
She was twenty-five again, standing in a black dress beside an urn she had been told contained what remained of her husband.
Her knees nearly gave out.
“I buried you.”
Julian’s expression changed.
Not victory.
Pain.
“No.”
His voice became almost gentle.
“You buried what they gave you.”
Isabella pressed one hand against her mouth.
Cameron looked from one to the other.
He had entered the room that morning believing the greatest danger to his wedding was rain.
Now a supposedly dead husband stood five feet from the altar.
And his bride appeared to believe he was a ghost.
Cameron turned to his best man.
“Close the doors.”
“Cameron—”
“Not lock them. Close them.”
Then to the minister:
“We’re pausing the ceremony.”
A murmur moved through the guests.
Cameron took Isabella’s wedding ring from the ceremonial table before anyone could touch it.
He did not put it on her finger.
He put it in his pocket.
Then he looked at Julian.
“You.”
Julian did not move.
“And Isabella.”
Her eyes filled.
“Private room. Now.”
Julian nodded.
Isabella did not.
Cameron stepped closer to her.
“I am not asking you to choose between us.”
His voice was low enough that only she heard.
“I am asking you to decide whether you are going to tell me the truth.”
She looked at the man she had intended to marry.
Then at the man whose death she had mourned.
May you like
For the first time, Isabella understood that the two worst days of her life had just collided.
And neither was finished.
