My Heart's Desire Read Free Page B

fussed with Rennie's hair, tucking hairpins back in place and adjusting the veil. She hummed lightly while she worked, carrying the same tune the organist played in the main chapel, and inadvertently reminding everyone there wasn't much time left.
    The mother of the bride smoothed the satin sleeves of Rennie's gown. Moira's hands shook slightly as she worked, her brow creased with concern. A lace scarf covered her dark red hair. From time to time she glanced worriedly at Rennie.
    "A wake is more fun than this," Michael said. She was on her knees beside Skye, threading a needle.
    "Michael," her mother admonished.
    "Well, it is," she said, unrepentant. She gave the needle and thread to Skye and carefully plucked the pins from her sister's mouth. "Looking at all of us, one would think the Irish only know how to have fun at funerals. All this last minute fussing because Rennie tripped on the steps and ripped out her hem, soiled her gown, and tossed the bouquet before she was supposed to. If I were a bit more superstitious, I'd say this wedding wasn't meant to happen."
    Rennie glanced down at her sister, her mouth twisting in disgust. "I'll thank you to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself. I know you mean well, but I've heard all I care to hear from you on the subject of my marriage to Hollis Banks."
    Now that Skye's mouth was free of pins, she took up Michael's cause. Her young face was earnest. "It's not that we don't like Hollis. Well, it's not exactly that we like him either."
    "Schyler," Moira said, shaking her head in despair. Where had her daughters learned to speak their mind so bluntly? It was Jay Mac's influence, she thought, and he wasn't here to see what he had wrought. "She didn't mean it quite that way, Rennie."
    "Yes, I did," said Skye. "Hollis is all right, I suppose, but he's not the sort of man I imagined you'd marry." Rennie was strong-minded, independent, and plain speaking. Skye doubted Hollis appreciated any of those qualities. He probably suffered them.
    Rennie snorted delicately. "I can only guess at what you conjured in that head of yours. Hollis suits me just fine. He's kind and gentle and smart and—"
    "He's after your money," Mary Francis said with serene confidence.
    Moira gasped at her eldest daughter's pronouncement.
    "Actually," Maggie said, shaking the bouquet at Rennie, "he's after Jay Mac's money and thinks you're just the Dennehy who can get it for him. Skye's too young, I'm not pretty enough, Mary Francis is a nun, and Michael's seven months pregnant."
    Moira fanned herself. She wished she were a woman given to fainting spells because she would have liked to have had one right then. As it was, her daughters completely ignored her.
    "This is a fine time to be telling me what you think," Rennie snapped.
    Michael stabbed the collected pins into the pincushion.
    "We've been telling you all along. You didn't want to hear."
    "You should be supporting me now. You should be happy for me, wishing me well." Rennie started to shake everyone off, feeling as if she were being pulled in five different directions. She was only peripherally aware that she had caused them to back away, shame-faced and sorry for their lack of sensitivity. In spite of the activity all around her, something else had caught Rennie's attention.
    Two men stood on the threshold of the side chapel, hat in hand, looking distinctly uncomfortable in their dust-covered and travel-wrinkled clothes. Their gun belts were jarringly out of place. One of the men shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitant, as if he were gathering courage. The other leaned negligently against the doorframe, amused and watchful.
    Rennie's back straightened. She raised her chin as her eyes darted from one man to the other. Without even realizing it she took a protective step toward Michael. "Is there something we can do for you?" she asked.
    Her voice was cool, Jarret thought, and sharp, like the stinging spray of white water. There was an