Читать книгу A Bride's Tangled Vows - Dani Wade, Dani Wade - Страница 11

Five

Almost a week after making his pledge to his mother, the marriage license arrived—and Aiden was royally screwed.

Oh, he would go through with it. In his gut, he knew this was the last thing he could do for his mother, one thing she could be proud of him for. She’d made her home here, been highly involved in the community, and she’d want him to care for it, too.

He couldn’t promise her he’d stay. But he could get her safely settled and make sure the town remained secure. Still, his confrontation with Christina on the stairs taunted him. And the fire with which she’d argued with him in her bedroom—soon to be their bedroom—tempted him to enjoy everything she might have to offer. Which made it imperative to lay out some ground rules with his future bride, so they both knew what to expect—from this situation and each other.

Following Marie’s directions, he found Christina in the back garden among his mother’s irises, which were in full, royal purple bloom in the spring sunshine. She was sitting on a wood and wrought-iron bench, a truly genteel resting place in the shade of a small dogwood tree.

He marched up beside her and dug right in. “Look, Christina, in terms of this marriage, we should start with—”

“Good afternoon, Aiden,” she said, squinting up at him in a way that wrinkled her delicate nose. “Won’t you please join me?” She motioned to the matching bench opposite her own.

He frowned. “Christina, this is a business arrangement. We should treat it like one.”

“Aiden,” she said, her tone a mocking version of his own stern one, “we don’t do business like that in the South. Or have you forgotten? Now stop being a jerk and sit down.”

Her words brought on a mixture of irritation and amused admiration, but it was the haughty stare that cinched the deal, that had his blood pounding in all the inappropriate places. It was the same implacable look she’d given James, though this time, that arched brow almost dared Aiden to defy her.

So be it. He was a New Yorker now, but he hadn’t forgotten how Southern hospitality worked. He forced himself to take the offered seat and studied his bride-to-be. “And how are you this afternoon, Miss Christina?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

His Southern-gentleman routine coaxed a laugh from those luscious lips, which emphasized the shadowy circles under her eyes. For the first time, he wondered just how much of a burden this marriage was on her. Did her family approve? He didn’t remember much about them, except that his mother hadn’t cared for either parent. They’d divorced when Christina was quite young, he thought.