Sweet Child of Mine by Jean Brashear Page A

wear when they’re married. It’s been a tradition for generations.”
    She was shocked that her fingers trembled as she tried to untie the braided golden cords. All the time that her fingers worked at the bag, her heart pounded and she tried to find the voice to refuse whatever it was.
    Finally, she freed the knot and opened the bag whose nap was worn smooth as silk. She glanced up. “Michael, I don’t think—”
    He took the bag from her and spread the mouth of it. “Hold out your hands.”
    She obeyed, and into her palms dropped a cameo of such delicate workmanship that she uttered an involuntary gasp. “Oh, Michael, it’s beautiful.” Evenas one finger traced its contours, she lifted her gaze to his. “I can’t possibly— Michael, this would be wrong.”
    A muscle in his jaw leaped. “I was never allowed to give this to Elaine.” His voice went rough. “I don’t want to betray its significance either, but if I don’t give it to you, my parents will never believe in this match and all of this will be for nothing.”
    Suzanne felt an almost holy stillness, a kind of reverence for this piece and its tradition that shook her to her bones. She looked up at him again. “I don’t know what to do.”
    “Let me put it on you.” His tone darkened. “Please. It comes down from oldest son to oldest son. My father’s a good man, and I have to believe that counts for something. Surely my ancestors would understand the reason we’re doing this.” He stood very still, so still that for this moment, it seemed they were alone in all the world.
    Her fingers closed around the cameo, the delicate golden chain dripping through her fingers. Suzanne closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, to whom she wasn’t sure. Please, forgive me if this is wrong.
    Maybe it was only what she wanted to believe, but in that moment, she felt an answering chord of peace settle deep in her heart. Michael was a good man. He was trying to do the right thing, just as she was.
    She opened her eyes and tried to find her voice. “Would you—” She cleared her throat and triedagain but could only find a husky whisper. “Would you put it on me, Michael?”
    He sighed so softly she might have imagined it. “Turn around,” he said, his voice still rough. He took the cameo from her hand and his touch burned her fingers.
    She tried not to feel his touch on her sensitive nape, but all along the back of her, she could feel him with every cell in her body. Deep within her, a dread began to grow. She would be changed by this forever, no matter how hard she tried. This was not a man a woman could walk away from and forget.
    “Thank you, Suzanne.” She felt him press one soft kiss to her nape, and goose bumps shot over her body.
    She stepped away to save herself, but she didn’t turn back to him until she’d wrestled some measure of control. It was far from easy.
    Finally she lifted her head, raised her eyebrows, did her best imitation of a casual tone. “Well now, are we ready?” She could almost pass for ready, as long as she didn’t look at him.
    “Ready or not, it’s time.”
    She might have heard a hint of strain in his voice, but she couldn’t be sure. There was nothing to be gained by looking deeper.
    He placed a hand at her waist as he led her to the door.
    Suzanne carefully stepped away from his touch.
     
    Michael escorted Suzanne down the aisle of a lovely little chapel he’d been able to wrangle on such short notice only by the application of a good sum of money and every ounce of charm he possessed. It might be a sham marriage, but it was Suzanne’s first and he hadn’t wanted it to be sleazy. This place came highly recommended, and he thanked his lucky stars that the minister’s wife did the bookings and had a soft spot for romance. He didn’t know if Suzanne had realized it yet, but today was Valentine’s Day in one of the wedding capitals of the world. Every chapel in Tahoe had been booked for months in advance.
    They