Entwined by Kristen Callihan Page A

certain he will.” Even so, the idea that she was about to join her life with a virtual stranger in an hour’s time left her weakened and queasy.
    Jean eyed her with worry. “I ought not have said anything, I know. Only, well, eventually you’ll be going into the village and hearing talk. Don’t pay it no mind.”
    “Talk of what?”
    “Of Master Eamon.” Jean frowned as she tucked a sprig of orange blossom into Lu’s hair. “Few fools took to believing Master Evernight’s rants, and when the master died unexpectedly, well”—she shrugged—“they believed Eamon killed him as well.”
    My father is dead. It was sudden and unforeseen. The silk of Lu’s skirt whispered as she turned to face Jean. “How did Mr. Evernight die?”
    Jean blanched. “He burned to death after being caught in a fire. In Eamon’s smithy.”

Chapter Seven
    “Luella Jane Moran, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony…”
    The rest of the priest’s words were lost to the buzzing within Lu’s ears. Heat prickled along her skin, over her arms, and up to her cheeks. She feared she might be ill.
    Above her head, a sorrowful Jesus upon his cross looked down at her with an expression bordering on reproach. At her back, the eyes of the Evernight household staff—the only people invited to attend the ceremony—bore into her like hot pokers.
    Her hand rested in Eamon’s larger one, now as sweaty and shaking as her own as they both promised to love and keep each other for the rest of their days.
    How could she make such a vow when she didn’t even know him? Would love come? And could she trust it when Aidan had let her down so completely? Worse still, how could she expect Eamon to love her when she was living a lie?
    Eamon’s clear blue eyes, the color of forget-me-nots, gazed into hers. She could stare into them forever and still not grow accustomed to their beauty. The corners of his wonderful eyes creased, and his skin grew paste white. As though he were afraid. Afraid of what?
    Suddenly silence was all around her, stretching outward and crushing inward with a weight that felt physical, oppressive. Silence so profound she could hear someone cough, and the minister clearing his throat.
    And then she remembered herself. They were in a church. He was waiting for an answer. By the look of him, he rather feared she’d respond in the negative.
    The very idea of hurting him, rejecting him the way she’d been rejected, was reprehensible. She’d rather die than do that to someone as kind and quietly proud as Eamon Evernight.
    Without another thought, the answer flew from her mouth in an abrupt yet ringing clear, “I will.”
    Heaven help her, she’d stood before God and all who witnessed and lied. Worse, she lied to Eamon.
    * * *
    Married. Eamon had gone and bloody married her. A fool act. It did not matter that it was the one thing he’d wanted in the past four years. He knew it would come to no good. She was in love with a phantom. Eamon knew he ought to be pleased that Lu unknowingly loved him. But it wasn’t really him she’d been yearning for. It was the soul of Eamon wrapped up in Aidan’s gilded perfection.
    No lady would want an awkward, ginger-haired giant when compared to Aidan’s lithe golden splendor. Likely she’d be shocked and mortified once she realized just whom she’d been truly corresponding with all these years. But she’d have to know soon. He couldn’t keep up this charade.
    A complete cock-up.
    “Cheer up, my boy. It’s not so bad, now is it?”
    Eamon looked up from the scarred wooden table and glared at Nan, his sometime voice of reason. He did not want to hear that voice now.
    “Not so bad?” Eamon laughed darkly. “I’ve become sorry seconds for Aidan’s bride.”
    “Have you now?” Nan took the kettle off the fire and continued to prepare a tray of tea. Aside from being the housekeeper, she was also their cook.