Sweet Child of Mine by Jean Brashear Page B

didn’t have long. They were being squeezed in between ceremonies. It made no sense, but he really wanted to do this right. Years from now, he didn’t want her looking back and finding the memory sordid, hasty though all of this must be.
    She’d looked shocked when the minister’s wife had handed her the expensive bouquet he’d ordered, insisting on holding on to the small nosegay of violets, too. As she stood beside him now, he could see that she was pale as water, gripping the flowers for dear life. The Longstreet cameo stood out against the deep purple of her dress. Her eyes were wide, her lush lips pressed together tightly. He touched her elbow and she jumped.
    He leaned down. “You look beautiful,” he murmured. “Just relax. The firing squad has today off.”
    Her lips tilted upward. She whispered back. “You look a little pale yourself.”
    Michael grinned at her jibe. “It’s not every day a man marries his fiercest opponent.”
    A hint of color rushed to her cheeks. “See that you remember that, mister.”
    They both chuckled softly. Then the minister cleared his throat, and the tension came roaring back.
    Even as he listened to the words, Michael shoved away memories of the last time he’d heard them, trying not to compare this day to the one so long ago. He’d been so young. So certain. Ten feet tall and bulletproof.
    Silence fell, and he realized it was time for his vows. He risked one glance at Suzanne, and the nerves he saw settled him. He’d always responded well to being needed, and she definitely needed the shield he could provide.
    So he carefully locked away memories of a day when these vows had been fresh and new and thrilling. Swallowing hard, he responded. “I, Michael, take you, Suzanne to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold…”
    Suzanne listened to his smooth baritone voice and fought back the urge to weep, to run out of this room this instant. She squeezed Michael’s forearm. Bobby, she reminded herself. This is for my son.
    Michael placed his right hand over hers, and thewarmth of it helped her settle. She glanced up as he spoke.
    He was every woman’s dream. Argue though they might, different as night and day, she would never deny that he was a man worthy of respect. The woman who had his love would be fortunate indeed.
    But he’d made it clear that no woman would ever have his love. It was dead and buried very far away.
    Suddenly he looked down and she realized it was her turn. “I, Suzanne, take you, Michael to be my lawfully wedded husband…”
    He held her in his gaze for every single word, and she tried not to wish that the clasp of his hand was for more than holding her in place.
    Then the minister asked for the rings and Suzanne started to shake her head and tell him they would have none.
    But Michael surprised her. The minister’s wife gently pried the flowers from her fingers, and Michael took her left hand in his own. In his fingers he held a stunning band of alternating diamonds and amethysts.
    Her startled gaze flew to his, and she started to speak, to refuse it.
    His eyes darkened in warning just before he began to speak. “With this ring…”
    Suzanne watched the ring slide onto her finger as if crafted specially for her. The lavender of the amethysts offset the icy fire of the diamonds. It was the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen.
    Then he held out another ring to her, a simple golden band. She watched him press it into her palm and for one second, she closed her fingers around it.
    Then the minister began to speak, and Suzanne held Michael’s left hand in her own as she slid the band on his long finger, feeling the heat of his skin as her fingers drifted over his. “With this ring, I thee wed…”
    Michael took both her hands in his and kept her facing him as the minister pronounced them married. She could see the intent in his eyes and she knew it would be smarter to turn her cheek toward the kiss that was coming.
    But something in those