Читать книгу Saving Cinderella - Lilian Darcy, Lilian Darcy - Страница 9

Jill didn’t even know his name. He was staring down at her with black eyes that swam with the brilliant reflection of the colored lights that surrounded them. The heavy silk folds of her wedding dress brushed against his legs, and he let his hand rest on her bare forearm for a moment.

“Is this okay?” he muttered in a low voice, roughened with a Montana-bred burr.

Jill gave a tiny nod. “Mm.”

“You didn’t look happy before.”

“Much better now.”

“Good! I think they’re ready for us. Are you sure about this? We could just leave. Tell them to go jump.”

“I can’t. It’s in the contract. I’m filling in for someone, and she’d lose her job if I didn’t go through with this.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “That makes sense. I couldn’t see why you’d want to.”

“I’m fine,” Jill insisted.

But she wasn’t. Not really. She was missing her little son horribly. She hated being here in Las Vegas, when he was all the way back home in Philadelphia. She’d skated the role of Cinderella in the ice show tonight, as understudy to the regular lead, who was ill. It was the starring role she’d always wanted, but it came with conditions attached.

TV cameras and strangers staring. A “waiver” and a “license” to sign. An emcee leering at her figure, closely molded and on display inside the gorgeous designer wedding gown. He was calling her “our Celebrity Cinderella Bride” and he’d encouraged the men at this so-called ball to bid for her.

Which they had. Red-faced, over-eager. Drunk, some of them, she suspected.

Not this man, though, the one who had won her at last, for over five hundred dollars. There was something much steadier about this one. His dark eyes, his solid stance, the questions he asked about her well-being. And when they faced each other, ready to enact the charade of their wedding vows, his warm hands held hers steadily, too.

Behind him, the lettering on the huge sign blurred in Jill’s vision. “Cinderella Marriage Marathon,” it read. “Win the coach, the palace, the honeymoon…and the bride!”

“Ready, you two?” said a man who was dressed like a royal courtier from days gone by, in a wig of rippling white curls, satin breeches and embroidered waistcoat.

For the first time, the audience fell silent. The other couples were ready and waiting now. The emcee launched into a spiel that Jill barely listened to. She caught only a few phrases, and didn’t take the time to make sense of them.

“…officer of the court present to witness…progress of each marriage on live cable TV…last couple left standing…winner takes all.”

The cameras had moved in closer, stealing her attention, and the lights had gotten even brighter. There was a mirror ball directly above her head, sending tiny white lights chasing across the black-eyed stranger’s face. A burst of romantic music vibrated in the air, then died away.

“Do you, Grayson James McCall, take Jillian Anne Chaloner Brown to be your lawfully wedded wife…?”

Grayson McCall. That was his name. She looked up at him. Their eyes met and held.

And even though she knew it was meaningless, a stunt, a charade, she was suddenly captured by the magic and swept away. She could have wrapped herself in the warm light of those eyes like wrapping herself in a black velvet cloak. How would it feel if a man like this was saying words like this to her, not as part of some reality TV gimmick, but for real?

“I do,” he said.

His voice was low, and his gaze never left her face for a second. It was a moment she’d never forget.