Chapter Ten

Gwyn’s hand pressed against her stomach in a vain attempt to keep it steady. She hadn’t eaten anything, but still the darn thing rebelled. When she’d studied the vows, she’d come close to vomiting. Walking down the aisle, she stumbled numerous times. Since her dad was dead, her mother and Gloria had decided to send her down the aisle alone. What a sad testament to her life. Her knees knocked and she clenched her jaw so hard she was sure her orthodontist was spinning in his grave. That was just the rehearsal. How in heaven’s name would she get through the ceremony?

As she stood inside the foyer of Milagro’s, she felt lightheaded. The room threatened to spin like a tilt-a-whirl. In the main dining room, people settled at tables. A low hum of conversation carried out to her. Sumner took Gwyn’s arm and led her into the room to the sound of music and applause.

The music swelled beneath the applause, and she could almost see the golden notes hanging in the candlelit air. Her gaze darted to the band and her breath caught. She stiffened, but Sumner had moved on, leaving her standing in the doorway staring at the stage.

It couldn’t be. Venn. Sitting at the piano, playing with abandon, his glorious blond hair flying as his head bobbed in time to the music, his fingers dancing on the keys. He turned to face her, his eyes dark and smoldering. She couldn’t catch the gasp before it escaped.

No one paid any attention. They focused all their attention on Sumner. He was the man of the hour and she was…just Gwyn. Except, Venn noticed her. And his stark hunger heated her blood, sending it zinging through her body. She couldn’t breathe, needed to break the thread binding them, but she couldn’t look away to sever that bond.

The music’s tempo slowed, guitars strummed, and the drums turned soft and slurry. Venn rose and took the microphone. His gaze never left her face as he began to sing. “I knew I loved you before I met you,” he crooned in a voice sweeter than spun sugar. Savage Garden. She’d loved the band, this song. How did Venn know? He sang to her, about her.

Drawn by that invisible ribbon tying them together, she walked toward him as if in a dream. Conversations faded into silence as Venn’s voice consumed her. She reached the stage area, and he knelt before her, bringing their eyes level as he sang, pouring out his heart.

God. How could she live without him? Her heart stuttered, and she swayed toward Venn, his heat reaching for her, warming her when she didn’t even know she was cold.

“What the hell, Gwyneth!”

Sumner! She’d forgotten about him, about where they were. Her whole world had narrowed to the point it held only her and Venn. Pounding so hard her chest hurt, she feared her heart would explode.

“Who the hell is this?”

Try as she might, she couldn’t school her face as she turned to Sumner. He took one look at her face and knew. Snagging her arm, he dragged her away.

Venn jumped from the stage and followed. Dickie and another no-neck thug tried to cut him off, but he plowed through them like an NFL linebacker taking out a row of cheerleaders. Gwyn shook her head, trying to warn him off, but he was having none of it. He caught up as Sumner pushed Gwyn down the hallway toward the rest rooms. At the door to the ladies’ room, he pushed her inside, closed the door behind her, and twisted a lock. She couldn’t get out.

Venn stared at Sumner. The man was a feckin’ bully, and he had half a mind to knock the prick’s head off for daring to put hands on Gwyn. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a negligent shoulder against the opposite wall.

“Listen you asshole, Gwyneth is mine. I don’t know who the hell you are and I don’t care.” Sumner dug in the front pocket of his expensive wool blend slacks and pulled out a wad of money. He peeled off five, hundred dollar bills and waved them. “Here. You want money? Take this and get the hell away from her.”

Venn laughed, a rumbling thunderclap of sound. “Ya think ye can buy me off? With that paltry sum? You don’t deserve her.” He pushed off the wall but held his distance as the bodyguards arrived. “Let Gwyn go.”

Sumner’s eyes narrowed in speculation. He waved his guards away with a flip of his hand. Opening the door, Gwyn spilled out, caught unawares. The man made no attempt to assist her. Venn caught her before she face-planted on the floor.

Still looking cocky, Sumner faced them. “I don’t blame you for sowing some wild oats, Gwyneth, but this ends now. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.” His expression stained with disdain, he added, “The man’s a street musician, for chrissakes. He’s playing you as easily as he does that damn piano out there.”

Gwyn slipped away from him and shied away from his hand as Venn reached for her. He ignored Sumner, concerned only with her feelings.

Venn clenched and unclenched his fists to keep from throwing a punch at the other man. Pummeling him—no matter how soul-satisfying it would be—would only bring more trouble. The cops would throw him in the gaol and fecking Sumner Barrett would walk away unscathed, but for the bruises left by his fists.

“You don’t get it, you stupid bitch. He knows who you are. What you’re worth. The sonavabitch will blackmail us. He probably has pictures of you screwin’ him.” Sumner advanced on her and pinned her against the wall. “You did, didn’t you? You slept with him.”

Gwyn covered her ears. Sumner’s words lashed at her, a torrent of loathing and disdain. She trembled beneath the onslaught. Dazzling prisms blinded her—unshed tears. Riley women didn’t cry. Ever. Hadn’t her mother beaten that refrain into her all her life? His words ran together in a hateful stream, but his last statement finally registered.

“You will go through with our marriage, Gwyneth.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Venn stepped in front of her, forcing Sumner to back away.

Sumner screamed obscenities, spittle flying from his mouth. Her gentle musician stood there like a rock, her fiancé’s tsunami of condemnation crashing against his stalwart frame, shielding her.

Raising his hand, Venn silenced Sumner’s tirade. “Ye’ll not be calling the cailín such names. An honorable man doesn’t treat the woman he loves in such a way.”

Sumner turned his wrath on Venn, and Gwyn cringed.

“You’re nothing but street trash! How dare you tell me how to treat her? She’s mine. I’ll do with her as I please. You’re the one who’s filled her head with all this romantic crap. You just want her for her money.”

“And you don’t?”

The words whipped through Gwyn like lightning. He only wanted her for her money? But of course. The man was a street musician. How could she be so blind?

Stumbling, she turned to run. Could it be true? Her heart shredded. Neither of these men truly wanted her. How could they? She was everything Sumner called her and more.

“Stop. Just stop.” Her voice quivered, and she shook so hard her teeth rattled. She had to get away, go somewhere she could think. Blindly, she darted to the exit door, yanked it open, and ducked out. Escape? She wished she could just disappear. Maybe her heart wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Gwyn!” Venn’s voice reached out to snare her. She kept running. “Cailín, please, don’t go!”

The fire door screamed alarm behind her before the silence of the winter night settled around her shoulders. Head down, she started walking.