The Bride Found Read online

  Emma leaned back with a mock scowl. “Are you saying I’m ugly with glasses?”

  Mark snorted as he pulled her closer. “Impossible. But sexy librarian isn’t really gonna work for the Rayne Green party.”

  The studio door opened and Emma’s best friend Hannah walked inside. “Hey there.”

  “Hi, Han-Han.” Emma stepped back.

  “Hi, Mark.” Hannah gave him a little wave.

  “Hi, Hannah.”

  Hannah set her bag on the floor. “Emma giving you a hard time?”

  Mark gave a half-smile. “No more than usual.”

  Hannah giggled. She used to argue with Emma about how she treated Mark, but in the end, realized Mark was getting something out of the deal as well, so left it alone. It wasn’t like Hannah didn’t have her own issues with men. She refused to date. She was petite, almost six inches shorter than Emma, with dark glossy hair that framed an oval face. A liberal smattering of freckles covered her nose and cradled hazel eyes that bordered on green. She was gorgeous, talented, and the perfect dance partner… mostly because she was so compact. Everyone wanted her, but she rarely did partner work anymore, unless it was ballet.

  “What’s up?” Emma slipped her glasses on.

  Hannah slid a lock of hair behind her ear. “The school found my application. I got accepted at DePaul.”

  “That’s awesome! I’m so proud of you.” Emma gave a little squeal and clapped her hands. “Wow! Chicago.”

  “I know! I can’t wait.” Hannah glanced at Mark and then back at Emma. “Did you guys finish the routine?”

  Emma shook her head. “No, we were going to do one more run-through. Wanna watch?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor.

  Mark hit play and the sound of Emma’s favorite song from the Citizens echoed through the space. Emma handed her spectacles to Hannah and lost herself in the routine, barely registering when she had to throw herself into Mark’s arms. She did it without thought.

  Hannah jumped to her feet and clapped before hugging both of them. “That was amazing, guys. If Rayne doesn’t pick you, Mark, she’s crazy.”

  He grinned. “Thanks.”

  Emma grabbed a towel and wiped her face. “Who wants to grab lunch and shop?”

  Mark held his hands up. “No shopping with you, crazy lady. I’ll take a rain-check on lunch, though.”

  Hannah smiled. “Only if there’s Orange Julius in there somewhere.”

  Emma chuckled. “I find it interesting that with all of the yummy things America has to offer, your favorite is Orange Julius.”

  “I know, eh?”

  “I’ll stop at home and shower and then meet you there… unless you want to come home with me?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I have to swing by my house first anyway. I was on my way there when I saw your car.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you when I’m leaving the house.”

  “Sounds good.” Hannah waved and left the studio.

  Mark promised to lock up before leaving, so she hugged him and took off for home. She got home to a message from Alex letting her know the movers would deliver the final boxes in the morning.

  Emma had been ecstatic when Lucas and Alexandria Smith moved in less than a month after the idea was first presented. Emma finally felt settled—well, almost. After showering and changing into something a little less comfortable, Emma called Hannah. “Hi, Han-Han, I’m on my way.”

  “Usual place?”

  “Yep. See you in twenty.” Emma flipped her phone closed as she shut the front door and locked it. Turning to walk down the steps to her car parked on the street, she noticed a familiar sight. A dark green sedan sat under the shade of a tree just south of the house. A man with dark sunglasses sat behind the wheel and watched her. She didn’t miss the raised scarring over his cheek, and she shivered as she hit the unlock button on her sister’s Mercedes.

  Climbing into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and pulled away from the curb. The sedan followed.

  “Time to have some fun, dumbass,” Emma grumbled.

  She pulled up to a light just as it turned green. Moving into the left-hand turn lane, she waited for the light to turn yellow and then burned through it, leaving the green sedan stuck behind a red light. She knew it wouldn’t necessarily be that easy, so she took a few back streets to her destination, and didn’t see the car again.

  Pulling into the parking lot at Jantzen Beach, she met Hannah as planned, and proceeded to drag her around the mall for the next two hours. They purchased a few new dance outfits and Emma bought shoes. Emma always bought shoes. Once Hannah had had enough, the girls chose a table in the food court and sat down to eat.

  “What’s the game plan with school?” Emma asked.

  Hannah laid her napkin on her lap. “Well, they’re giving me a scholarship, so I’ll start with law through them and then concentrate on the forensics side.”

  “Good for you! When do you have to leave?”

  “In a few weeks. Classes start August 13.”

  “Seriously?” Emma’s eyebrow went up in surprise.

  “Yes, quick, eh?”

  Taking a sip of her drink, Emma sat back with a sigh. “Yes, and kind of a bummer! No dance class.”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, sorry about that.”

  “How long until I see you again?”

  Hannah popped the lid of her Orange Julius and stirred it with her straw. “Why don’t you come and visit for Christmas?”

  Emma smiled. “Yes, Christmas might be an option.”

  “Good.” With a grimace, Hannah rose to her feet. “I actually have to go. I have an essay to finish.”

  Emma hugged Hannah and then visited her nail salon before heading home.

  Finding the house empty when she arrived home several hours later, Emma stashed her bags in the foyer, and made her way to the kitchen. After grabbing a quick bite to eat, she decided to put her purchases away before flopping in front of the television with a tub of ice-cream. Messy by nature, she felt this was a great sense of accomplishment on her part.

  Walking slowly down the hall, Emma couldn’t help but think how perfect her sister’s home would be for a horror movie. The approach to the library always creeped her out, and she rubbed her arms as a shiver made its way up her spine. It was where her brother-in-law had disappeared from, and where they found a small puddle of dried blood, determined to be Jamie’s after he went missing. The smell of old books and aging leather engulfed her senses before she’d even reached the door, and her mind suddenly flooded with memories.

  As she gathered her bags, she noticed the door to the room was slightly ajar, which seemed strange to her. She was certain she’d closed it up tight before she’d left. With a shudder, she pushed open the door, which squeaked in protest. Her intention was to make sure no one was inside, so that she could escape to her bedroom. Instead, she found herself staring into a room entirely different from the library.

  No, not a room—a barn?

  Emma did a quick check behind her and saw the familiar stairs and foyer décor, then turned again, expecting to see the library.

  What’s going on?

  Sudden, excruciating pain shot through her forehead, and as she touched her fingers to her temples, her world went black.

  EMMA GROANED AS she came to. Her head throbbed and she felt nauseous. Putting her hand to her forehead, she slowly sat up. A jab in her hip produced a wince, and when she moved slightly, she found the brush she’d just bought.

  Great, just freakin’ great.

  Noticing the fuzzy outline of a few of her purchases scattered around her, she let out a frustrated sigh. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost her glasses. Virtually blind without them, especially in the dark, Emma got on her hands and knees and swept her immediate surroundings.

  Confusing her further was the hay on the ground. She looked up and noticed she was in some kind of barn, but not the barn where she and Alex kept their horses. W
ith such inadequate lighting, she spent another ten minutes trying to locate everything. Her glasses were trapped under her purse, but she was relieved to find they were undamaged as she put them on and had a good look around.

  Where am I? Whose barn is this and what happened to the library?

  The smell of horses and hay flooded her senses, and although darkness engulfed the space, there appeared to be a lantern lit at the front of the building.

  Why would they use a lantern with all this straw around?

  A shiver distracted her confusion when she suddenly realized she was freezing. Her short-sleeved shirt was entirely inadequate to ward off the cold.

  Why am I freezing in the middle of summer?

  As goose bumps crawled over her body, her head pounded in protest, so she dug in her purse for her stash of Advil and popped two, hoping it would take the edge off. Pulling out her cell phone, she flipped it open and scowled. No bars. She scrolled down to Hannah’s number and typed out a text message, but after hitting send, the phone went blank. She sighed.

  I must be in a dead zone.

  She consolidated her packages and shoved them into her carpetbag. Surprisingly, everything fit. Pushing herself up off the floor, she brushed the straw from her jeans and scanned her surroundings. A glance to her left revealed an old-fashioned buggy, and to her right, four stalls only half-filled. Before the sound of heavy feet fully registered in her mind, Emma was staring at a young black man holding a bridle.

  Emma gasped.

  His eyes widened. “Who are you?”

  Emma squared her shoulders. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Jack, missus.”

  “Oh.” She backed up slightly. “Do you know where I am, Jack?”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “You don’t know where you is?”

  Emma wrapped her hand around a metal bar on one of the stalls and steadied herself. “No. I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “You’s in Mr. Madden’s carriage house, ma’am.”

  ’Cause that clears it up so succinctly.

  “Um, who is Mr. Madden, and where is his carriage house?”

  Jack hung the bridle on a peg. “Mr. Madden is the boss and you’s in his carriage house.”

  “Okay, let’s try this again.” A shiver shot up her spine, even as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Is Mr. Madden here?”

  “No, ma’am, he gone to Harrisburg.”

  Emma pointed to the floor. “And we are still in Portland, yes?”

  “No, ma’am. We’s in Washington.”

  How did I get over the bridge without knowing it?

  “Well, if you’ll just give me the address, I’ll call my friend and have her pick me up.”

  Jack shrugged. “If you’s close enough to call her, why she need to pick you up? You could jus’ walk.”

  He must be involved in some kind of a mentally challenged work program. I hope this Mr. Madden doesn’t take advantage…

  Emma wagged her finger and forced a smile. “You have a point, Jack.”

  “Yes’m.”

  She slid her bag onto her shoulder. “Um, if you could point me in the direction of a cab, perhaps I’ll find my own way home.”

  “Yes’m. I can.”

  Emma let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you.”

  “I’d gladly point you in the direction of a cab, if’n you’s tell me what a cab was.”

  Emma took a deep breath. “Transportation. I’d like to hire someone to drive me home.”

  “We’s not in a place buggies come, missus. I could walk ya to the main street if’n you want.”

  “Jack?” A large black woman came rushing into the carriage house and stopped short when she saw Emma. “Jack,” she hissed.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “What is you doin’?”

  “This white lady’s lost and she’s needin’ help to get home.”

  Emma grimaced and quickly took in the old-fashioned dress and apron. Even with the sun setting, she noted the drabness of the gray fabric. “Sorry. I’ve caused a bit of confusion, I think. Jack’s offered to walk me to where I can catch a cab.”

  Jack’s mother pushed her son out of the structure and squeezed his shoulders. “You’s never to be alone with a white woman, Jack, you know that.”

  “She jus’ showed up, mama. I didn’t mean to.”

  Emma inched her way out of the carriage house. “Ma’am, I’m sorry if I got him in trouble. It’s all my fault. If you could direct me to a place I could hire a cab, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Missus, if you goes out on the street like that, I’m afraid what might happen.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’s almost naked.”

  Emma swallowed. “Look, lady. My patience is wearing thin. I just want to know where I am so that I can go home.”

  The woman lowered her eyes and backed away. “I’s sorry, ma’am.”

  Guilt filled Emma. “Oh, please, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” She rubbed her arms. “I’m just very confused.”

  “Yes’m. I can see that.”

  Emma shifted from foot to foot. “Let me start again. My name is Emma Wellington. What’s yours?”

  “I’m Martha, missus. This here’s Jack.”

  “Yes. Um, I don’t know where I am, exactly.”

  Martha pointed to the carriage house. “You’s in Mr. Madden’s carriage house.”

  “Yes, that’s what Jack said.” Emma forced back the squeal of frustration threatening to come out. “Is Mrs. Madden home?”

  “There’s no missus, ma’am.”

  “Okay,” Emma said slowly. “Would it be possible to come inside and use the phone?”

  “Phone?”

  “Yes, the phone. I need to call my friend for assistance.”

  The clip-clop of hooves interrupted the confusing conversation, and two men rode into the alleyway between the house and carriage house. Emma shrunk back as they approached, the large blond man assessing her with open interest.

  “Martha?”

  Martha grinned up at him and nodded. “Mr. Madden. Mr. Simmonds. Welcome home.”

  Jack rushed forward to take the reins and held the horses while the men dismounted. Mr. Madden removed his top hat and gloves as he closed the distance between his horse and Emma. “Ma’am?”

  Emma cleared her throat and shrunk back. “Hi.”

  His light blond hair was swept back over a smooth forehead, and full lips smiled between a mustache and soul patch. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was gorgeous.

  He’d be perfect in one of Sophie’s Civil War reenactments.

  He glanced at his friend and then back at Emma. “Do you require assistance, ma’am?” he drawled in a thick southern accent.

  Shoot! I hate cowboys.

  “She done wandered into your carriage house, boss.” Jack tied the horses to one of the posts and bobbed his head up and down. “She says she’s lost.”

  His concerned gaze swept her face. “Are you lost, ma’am? May we be of some assistance?”

  Emma stood frozen, shivering from both the cold and fear.

  Why are they in costume?

  “No one will harm you.” Clayton held his hand out to her. “You have my word.”

  I’m sure Ted Bundy used that line a time or two…

  Emma swallowed. “And you are?”

  “My name is Clayton Madden.” He pointed to his friend. “And that is Andrew Simmonds.”

  * * *

  Clayton paid close attention to the young woman as she backed away from his outstretched hand. Stunning. Tall and curvy, her blonde hair was styled strangely and she wore a pair of spectacles that magnified her large blue eyes. The dark pants that seemed to have been painted on showcased long legs, and her tight-fitting, short-sleeved blouse was low cut and flared at the bottom, hiding none of her obvious bounties. Clayton scowled. She is showing too much.

  Taken back by his possessive thought, Clayton tried to rein his emotions. “Can you tell
me your name?”

  “Emma. Wellington.”

  Andrew stepped forward and faced her. “Ma’am? Where did you come from? Is there somewhere we can take you?”

  The lamp caught the sheen of tears as she shook her head and backed up again.

  Andrew leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Ma’am? Can we help?”

  “Andrew, don’t crowd her.” Clayton pulled him back. “Can’t you see she’s frightened?”

  “She might be mad, Clayton.”

  “I’m not crazy.” Emma licked full lips and took a deep breath. “Um, I’m just not sure where I am.”

  Clayton smiled. “You’re in my carriage house.”

  Irritation crossed her face as a quiet snort escaped between clenched teeth. “I think I should just call a cab and be on my way. If one of you could help me with that, I’d appreciate it. Let the cab company know I need to go to Portland.”

  Andrew stepped forward. “Portland, ma’am?”

  Clayton pulled him back again with a warning glare and then faced her again. “Portland’s quite a distance from here. Are you certain you need to go there?”

  A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. “Yes. My home is in Portland. I don’t know how I got over the bridge without knowing it, but if you could help me, I’ll be on my way.”

  Andrew let out a quiet snort. “There’s no bridge to Portland—”

  “Andrew,” Clayton hissed.

  “Who are you people?” Emma whispered. “I need to go home.”

  “Ma’am,” Clayton said gently. “Washington is several miles away from Maine, and without a bridge.”

  Emma rubbed her forehead. “Maine? No, Oregon. I’m from Oregon. Just over the river from Washington. We are in Washington, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Washington D.C.”

  Emma’s head whipped up. “What?”

  Clayton watched fear cover her face and her attempt to hide it again. She began to inch away from the group and then bolted.

  “Ma’am! Wait!” Clayton went after her, his heart in his throat. If she made it to Main Street, she’d run the risk of running into the crowded traffic. He caught her just as she reached the third row house, grabbed her around her waist, and pulled her up against him.

  Emma screamed bloody murder.