The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) Read Free Page B

coughed, then gasped a breath. "Mama thinks this will help?"
    Heavens. Sexual intercourse must really be awful.
    As that thought flashed through her mind, a knock sounded at the door. Nick's voice called, "Sarah?"
    Panic rose like a tidal wave within her. Sarah literally bit her tongue. Pain. Blood. A ramming Rod of Steel.
    "Sarah? May I come in?"
    She took a deep breath and shouted, "No!"

 
     
     
    Sharp, pointed objects bring bad luck to brides.
     
     
    Chapter 2

     
    Nick thought he must have misheard her. He rapped on the door again. "Lass?"
    "You can't come in, Nick."
    His mouth lifted in a slow, crooked smile, and he checked the corridor to confirm their privacy before answering, "Don't rush to get dressed on my account."
    He heard a gurgling sound and he frowned. Was she choking? He tried the door. Locked. He fished in his pocket and removed the brass room key he'd obtained from the desk downstairs, then slipped it into the lock and twisted. Metal clicked. Nick turned the knob and stepped inside the honeymoon suite.
    He saw a streak of emerald green disappear into the second room. "Sarah, are you all right?"
    "Y-y-yes."
    She didn't sound all right.
    "Did you eat something that went down the wrong way?"
    "N-n-n-o. I'm fine."
    Nick's mouth settled in a grim line. Judging by the quaver to her voice, he had his doubts about that. He glanced around the simple suite's sitting room, spied the open brandy decanter, and mentally cursed. He should have resisted this silly tradition of having mothers and aunts and best friends—that silly Abigail Reese was an agitator—help prepare a bride for her wedding night. Now Sarah was all worked up and nervous. Better that he and she had come upstairs together and let the passion of the moment carry them away.
    He slipped the bottle of sweet wine he'd thought his bride would prefer into the waiting ice bucket, then poured himself two fingers of the brandy she'd left out. He tossed it back like the worst rotgut whisky before turning to face the bedroom.
    "Sarah, I'm coming in," he called as he approached the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom. He was two steps away when she slammed the door between them shut.
    Nick raked his fingers through his hair. "She's a virgin, remember," he muttered. An obviously reluctant virgin.
    And he had no experience with virgins.
    He dragged his hand along his jaw-line. He'd known she might be skittish, but he hadn't expected slamming doors. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Sarah was an intriguing, appealing combination of innocence and passion, a rosebud on the brink of first bloom.
    Considering her youth, it probably would have been better not to rush toward a wedding as quickly as they had. As much as Nick wanted her in his bed, he could have waited. Indeed, he wasn't exactly certain how he'd ended up engaged. Back in January, Sarah and her mother had been helping Trace McBride oversee the birthday party arrangements for one of his daughters. Sarah had asked Nick to entertain the children with Scottish folktales, and before the night was over, the conversation had gone from fairy spells to wedding bells.
    From the beginning, Sarah had had her heart set on a May wedding, and as hungry as he was for her, he hadn't seen how hurrying things along would hurt. Now, though, he had a better view of the troubles that lay ahead.
    Starting with the paneled oak door in front of his face.
    As Nick reached for the brass doorknob, it turned and the door inched open. He all but swallowed his tongue at the sight that met his eyes.
    Sarah's unbound hair cascaded like a golden waterfall upon a field of emerald green. Her dressing gown hid everything, promised everything, and set Nick's heart beating faster. She licked her full, Cupid's-bow lips before gazing up at him through thick, curling lashes that framed solemn eyes the color of the finest Highland malt.
    "Would you like to play a game of chess, Nicholas?"
    He wanted to throw back his head and