âAiden?â
The sudden silence must have become too much for her, because Christina moved forward as if to continue down the stairs. The polite thing would have been to step aside, but the ache to feel that body against his once more kept him perversely still. She slowed within a hairâs breadth, tension mounting once more. âAiden?â âSo youâre really willing to do this?â he asked, almost holding his breath as he awaited her answer. What delicious torture to spend the next year with this woman and keep his hands to himself. Could he? This was a huge mistake. âI donât know. I donât think I can, you know, share a bed with you.â The way her voice trailed off told him how very uncomfortable she was, which only awakened images of making her very comfortable in a bed for two. Maybe he could find a way to make this work. * * * A Brideâs Tangled Vows is part of the Mill Town Millionaires series. A Brideâs Tangled Vows Dani Wade DANI WADE astonished her local librarians as a teenager when she carried home ten books every weekâand actually read them all. Now she writes her own characters, who clamor for attention in the midst of the chaos that is her life. Residing in the southern United States with a husband, two kids, two dogs and one grumpy cat, she stays busy until she can closet herself away with her characters once more. To the late Beverly Bartonâyou gave freely of your encouragement and advice the first time you read this story, and told me one day my time would come. Now that itâs here, I wish I could share it with you. But I know your gorgeous smile is lighting up heaven. I look forward to seeing you again ⦠Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Extract
Aiden Blackstone suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the afternoon thunderstorm raging all around him. For a moment, he remained immobile, staring at the elaborate scrolls carved into the heavy oak door before him. A door heâd promised himself heâd never pass through againâat least, not while his grandfather was alive. I should have come back here, Mother, only to see you. But heâd sworn never to let himself be locked inside the walls of Blackstone Manor again. Heâd thought he had all the time he would need to make his absence up to his mother. In his youthful ignorance, he hadnât realized everything heâd be giving up to uphold his vow. Now he was back to honor another vowâa promise to see that his mother was taken care of. The thought had his stomach roiling. Shaking it off, he reached for the old-fashioned iron knocker shaped like a bearâs head. The cab had already left. On a day plagued by steamy, ferocious southern thunderstorms, he certainly wouldnât be walking the ten miles back to Black Hills, no matter how much he dreaded this visit. His nausea eased as he reminded himself that he wouldnât be here for longâonly as long as necessary. Knocking again, he listened intently for footsteps on the other side of the door. It wasnât really home if you had to wait for someone to answer. Heâd walked away with the surety that only comes with untried youth. Now he returned a different man, a success on his own terms. He just wouldnât have the satisfaction of rubbing his grandfatherâs nose in it. Because James Blackstone was dead. The knob rattled, then the door swung inward with a deep creak. A tall man, his posture still strong despite the gray hair disappearing from his head, blinked several times as if not sure his aging eyes were trustworthy. Though heâd left his childhood home on his eighteenth birthday, Aiden recognized Nolen, the family butler. âAh, Master Aiden, weâve been expecting you,â the older man said. âThank you,â Aiden returned with polite sincerity, stepping closer to look into the butlerâs faded blue eyes. Lightning cracked nearby and thunder almost immediately boomed with wall-rattling force, the storm a reflection of the upheaval deep in Aidenâs core. Still studying his face, the older man opened the door wide enough for Aiden and his luggage. âOf course,â Nolen said, shutting out the pouring rain behind them. âItâs been a long time, Master Aiden.â Aiden searched the other manâs voice for condemnation, but found none. âPlease leave your luggage here. Iâll take it up once Marie has your room ready,â Nolen instructed. So the same housekeeperâthe one whoâd baked cookies for him and his brothers while they were grieving the loss of their fatherâwas still here, too. They said nothing ever changed in small towns. They were right. Aiden swept a quick glance around the open foyer, finding it the same as when heâd left, too. The only anomaly was an absent portrait that captured a long-ago moment in timeâhis parents, himself at about fifteen and his younger twin brothers about a year before his fatherâs death. Setting down his duffel and laptop case and shaking off the last drops of rain, he followed Nolenâs silent steps through the shadowy breezeway at the center of the house. The gallery, his mother had always called this space that opened around the central staircase. It granted visitors an unobstructed view of the elaborate rails and landings of the two upper floors. Before air-conditioning, the space had allowed a breeze through the house on hot, humid, South Carolina
