time for the kind of trouble Abby Hamilton would bring to his life.
Reminded of his responsibilities, he headed back to find Molly. Why wasn't she out already? She was taking this no-one-seeing-the-bride-in-her-wedding-gown thing a little too far. "Molly?"
When she didn't answer his knock, he turned the knob and pushed open the door...to an empty room. The wedding gown swung from its hook on the wall, the layers of lace and satin lifting in the breeze blowing through an open window.
"Oh, God!" Molly was gone, leaving behind her wedding dress with a note pinned to the bodice. And the name scrawled across the front of it wasn't the groom's or even Clayton's. The note his sister had left behind was addressed to Abby. His hand shaking, he pulled out the pin and shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jacket.
Every muscle tense, he stalked back into the sanctuary. Mrs. Hild, at the organ, played the wedding march. All the guests rose and turned to face the entrance, where Clayton stood alone. He ignored the murmurs and the curious stares. He avoided looking at the groom. He had no idea what to say to Josh or anyone else but her. He focused on Abby. This was her fault. She'd done exactly what he'd told her not to do. She'd talked the bride into running away, just as Abby had run away eight years ago. She was still a troublemaker.
----
Chapter Four
The bridal march played on. But no bride walked down the aisle. Only Clayton.
Molly came to her senses. Relief washed over Abby wilh the realization, easing the knot of apprehension that had tormented her ever since Molly had announced her engagement. During their slumber party at Mrs. Mick's house, she must have gotten through to the nervous bride.
Clayton believed she had, as well. He blamed her. His dark gaze burned into her, and her stomach knotted with new apprehension. And excitement. She had never felt more alive than when she used to get a rise out of Clayton. No matter what ages they'd been, he'd always seemed so unflappable and in control to Abby. Struggling with her life, Abby had envied that control nearly as much as she'd envied Clayton his family.
At last, Mrs. Hild took notice of the situation and her fingers stilled. The church fell silent, everyone staring at Clayton, while Clayton stared at Abby.
Even though his face was tense, a wry grin touched his mouth. "The wedding is going to be slightly delayed," he said. "The bride is not quite ready yet, so we appreciate your patience. Thank you."
So Molly hadn't left the church—she was just not ready to walk down the aisle? Abby couldn't let Clayton use a sense of obligation or some other excuse to pressure Molly into doing something she really didn't want to do. She bunched her hands in the fabric of her dress. lifting the skirt so she could head down the aisle at a dead run without tripping and falling on her face. She'd already figuratively done that once in front of everyone in Cloverville, when she'd been expelled before graduation.
Clayton, distracted by the way Abby's body moved in the red dress as she ran toward him, nearly let her pass. But then he swallowed hard, suppressing the attraction he felt, and took her arm, linking it through his. He gestured toward Mrs. Hild, who began to play the wedding march again. Abby tugged, but Clayton clasped her closer, forcing her to slow her steps.
"I want to talk to Molly," she said, her voice barely kept to a whisper.
"So do I," he admitted, as they stopped by the door to the empty dressing room.
Abby opened the door, then whirled back toward Clayton, her eyes narrowed accusingly. "Where is she?"
"That's what I'd like to know. Where is she?"
She blinked and then laughed. "She took off?"
"Like you're surprised," he said sardonically, reaching into his pocket for the crumpled note. "You're the only one she left with any explanation."
Abby snatched the envelope from his hand, tore open the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"What does it say?" he
Reminded of his responsibilities, he headed back to find Molly. Why wasn't she out already? She was taking this no-one-seeing-the-bride-in-her-wedding-gown thing a little too far. "Molly?"
When she didn't answer his knock, he turned the knob and pushed open the door...to an empty room. The wedding gown swung from its hook on the wall, the layers of lace and satin lifting in the breeze blowing through an open window.
"Oh, God!" Molly was gone, leaving behind her wedding dress with a note pinned to the bodice. And the name scrawled across the front of it wasn't the groom's or even Clayton's. The note his sister had left behind was addressed to Abby. His hand shaking, he pulled out the pin and shoved the envelope into the pocket of his jacket.
Every muscle tense, he stalked back into the sanctuary. Mrs. Hild, at the organ, played the wedding march. All the guests rose and turned to face the entrance, where Clayton stood alone. He ignored the murmurs and the curious stares. He avoided looking at the groom. He had no idea what to say to Josh or anyone else but her. He focused on Abby. This was her fault. She'd done exactly what he'd told her not to do. She'd talked the bride into running away, just as Abby had run away eight years ago. She was still a troublemaker.
----
Chapter Four
The bridal march played on. But no bride walked down the aisle. Only Clayton.
Molly came to her senses. Relief washed over Abby wilh the realization, easing the knot of apprehension that had tormented her ever since Molly had announced her engagement. During their slumber party at Mrs. Mick's house, she must have gotten through to the nervous bride.
Clayton believed she had, as well. He blamed her. His dark gaze burned into her, and her stomach knotted with new apprehension. And excitement. She had never felt more alive than when she used to get a rise out of Clayton. No matter what ages they'd been, he'd always seemed so unflappable and in control to Abby. Struggling with her life, Abby had envied that control nearly as much as she'd envied Clayton his family.
At last, Mrs. Hild took notice of the situation and her fingers stilled. The church fell silent, everyone staring at Clayton, while Clayton stared at Abby.
Even though his face was tense, a wry grin touched his mouth. "The wedding is going to be slightly delayed," he said. "The bride is not quite ready yet, so we appreciate your patience. Thank you."
So Molly hadn't left the church—she was just not ready to walk down the aisle? Abby couldn't let Clayton use a sense of obligation or some other excuse to pressure Molly into doing something she really didn't want to do. She bunched her hands in the fabric of her dress. lifting the skirt so she could head down the aisle at a dead run without tripping and falling on her face. She'd already figuratively done that once in front of everyone in Cloverville, when she'd been expelled before graduation.
Clayton, distracted by the way Abby's body moved in the red dress as she ran toward him, nearly let her pass. But then he swallowed hard, suppressing the attraction he felt, and took her arm, linking it through his. He gestured toward Mrs. Hild, who began to play the wedding march again. Abby tugged, but Clayton clasped her closer, forcing her to slow her steps.
"I want to talk to Molly," she said, her voice barely kept to a whisper.
"So do I," he admitted, as they stopped by the door to the empty dressing room.
Abby opened the door, then whirled back toward Clayton, her eyes narrowed accusingly. "Where is she?"
"That's what I'd like to know. Where is she?"
She blinked and then laughed. "She took off?"
"Like you're surprised," he said sardonically, reaching into his pocket for the crumpled note. "You're the only one she left with any explanation."
Abby snatched the envelope from his hand, tore open the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"What does it say?" he
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