Long-Lost Bride Read online

  “Let me get this straight. I can share a life with you, but not love?”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright

  “Let me get this straight. I can share a life with you, but not love?”

  “Not unless you want a world full of hurt,” he replied.

  “And that’s supposed to induce me to marry you?”

  “No. That’s supposed to make you think long and hard. Are you in the market for practical, or are you Cinderella waiting for the prince? Fantasy or reality?”

  Didn’t Chaz realize? He was that prince, their hearts and souls joined on a fateful night nine impossibly long years ago.

  “Why don’t you kiss me, Chaz, and we’ll see whether it’s fantasy or reality.”

  He captured her in his arms, his hands strong and firm on her back. “I intend to see to it that you go into this marriage with your eyes wide open....”

  Titles in this series:

  November 1999:

  BRIDEGROOM ON APPROVAL (#3575)

  December 1999:

  LONG-LOST BRIDE (#3579)

  Dear Reader,

  I’m a bit sad as I write this letter, because it brings to a close my latest Cinderella Ball story, a collection of stories that have lived in my heart for years, rich with characters who have filled more days than I can count with laughter and happiness. Thank you for allowing me to share their adventures in love with you through the FAIRYTALE WEDDINGS series.

  Although these tales all began in the same place, it won’t matter if this is the first Cinderella Ball you’ve attended, or If you’ve visited every one of them. Each book stands alone. The stories are simply born at the same place—a marriage ball.

  So here’s one final invitation to attend the Beaumonts’ Cinderella Ball, a masked affair this time. Take a break from reality and join the other guests as they dream of romance and love at first sight and stories that can only end happily ever after. Meet a cold, lonely man, Chaz McIntyre, who lost his ability to love long ago, when he lost his Forever Love. And meet Shayne Beaumont, his Long-Lost Bride, a woman determined to return love to her husband’s life so they can both live happily ever after. See what happens when a masked woman of unusual generosity seduces one stubborn rancher who doesn’t “do” Christmas. I hope you’ll enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  Love,

  Long-Lost Bride

  Day Leclaire

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  To Frank, my Forever Love

  PROLOGUE

  The Beaumonts—Forever, Nevada

  ELLA Beaumont rolled onto her hip and stared at her husband. A full moon made that job a little easier, burnishing the room in silver and painting a swath of gentle ivory across Rafe’s hard-chiseled features. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Rafe? Maybe we shouldn’t interfere.”

  “My interference is what put my sister in this situation to begin with. I stayed out of it for the past nine years, hoping against hope that Shayne would find someone. But there’s never been anyone else for her. Not one single man who’s captured her heart.”

  “Except McIntyre,” Ella said softly.

  Rafe nodded. “Except McIntyre.”

  “How do you know he’s not married? How do you know he’ll come?”

  “I’ve made it my business to keep a watchful eye on him since I had their marriage annulled.”

  She took a moment to absorb that before very gently informing her husband, “As much as you might want to, you can’t play God.”

  “I’m not playing at anything.” He set his jaw in a manner she recognized all too well. It spoke of rock-solid determination. It also warned that she wouldn’t sway him. Not on this point. “I’m attempting to set right a wrong. If it succeeds, Shayne will finally have her happiness.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Grief silvered his eyes. “Then at least I will have given her the chance I stole all those years ago.”

  Lullabye, Colorado

  “You can’t be serious!”

  Dona Isabella inclined her head in a regal fashion, her grip tightening on her gold-tipped cane. “I am quite serious, Señor McIntyre. You knew those were my terms when I contacted you last month. Yet, you have done nothing about implementing them.”

  “You expect me to find a wife in one short month?” he demanded savagely.

  “No.” Black eyes flashed above a strongly hooked nose. “I now expect you to find a wife in one short week.”

  And that said it all. He paced the length of his office, fighting for control. Reining in his temper proved as difficult as reining in a wild stallion bent on freedom. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Dona Isabella fully expected him to have a bride on his arm at the end of the allotted seven days. It didn’t matter that marriage was the last thing he wanted. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t a chance in hell that a woman within a hundred miles of his ranch would take him on or that he had nothing to give a wife. All that mattered was that she’d decreed he do as she demanded or she’d refuse to give him the one thing he wanted most in the world.

  Forced to admit he’d run out of options, he acted in the only way he could under the circumstances. He shot her a cocky grin. “I don’t suppose you have any candidates available?”

  Doña Isabella’s mouth thinned. Apparently, a sense of humor wasn’t a characteristic she openly embraced. “I leave for Mexico in one week, Señor McIntyre. If at that time you’ve met all my demands, I’ll give you what you wish. If not...” She shrugged, her black eyes coldly implacable. “It’s your choice.”

  His grin vanished. “No, madam. It’s not,” he assured her, just as coldly. “If it was, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

  A brief knock sounded and Chaz’s foreman, Penny, pushed the office door open a scant inch. No doubt fear of the intimidating Doña kept him from opening it any further. “Hey, boss?”

  “I thought I told you not to—”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. But there’s a really strange guy out here and I’m afraid if you don’t see to it your own self and get him out of here, somebody’s like as not to shoot him purely on the principal of the thing.”

  Damn. “Excuse me,” Chaz said to his guest. He received another of the Doña’s regal nods and amusement vied with frustration. As though he needed permission from her to run his own household! He swore beneath his breath. Unfortunately, that was precisely the case. For now.

  Stepping into the entrance hall, he confronted a sight he thought he’d put behind him nine long years ago. A man stood there, a man who looked about as uncomfortable as a body could. Dressed in white and gold satin, his uniform sported braided nonsense on the shoulders and down the front of his short bolero jacket. Honest-to-goodness lace decorated his womanish shirt and the end of his sleeves. He clutched a gold tray with hands encased in spotless white gloves—hiding sweaty palms, no doubt.

  A thick embossed envelope was propped in the center of the tray, the death grip the man had on the flimsy piece of metal suggesting he expected to have to use it to defend himself. Smart fella. Something about fancy duds and a ranch just didn’t go together, and all three of them were painfully aware
of that fact.

  “I’m looking for a Mr. Cassius McIntyre,” the man announced.

  “It’s Chaz. And you found him.”

  The footman didn’t attempt to disguise his relief. “Allow me to present you with a special invitation to the Cinderella Ball.” He offered the thick, gold-embossed envelope on the tray.

  It was everything Chaz could do to keep from laughing. But he managed. “Didn’t apply to the ball.”

  “No, sir. The application was made in your name.”

  Chaz’s eyes narrowed, the laughter draining right out of him. “Now who do you suppose would have done such a foolhardy thing?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  “Well, you can take that envelope and—” He broke off, painfully aware of two infuriating facts. First, this just might provide the solution he needed. And second, the people providing that solution were the very last he’d ever wanted to see again. Fate, it would seem, had decided to take another swing at him.

  “Go on,” Penny encouraged eagerly. “Tell him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

  “Get back to work, old man.” Of course, his foreman instantly obeyed by digging in his heels and folding his scrawny arms across an equally scrawny chest. Chaz sighed. “What happens if I refuse the envelope?” he asked Mr. Silk-and-Lace.

  “I’m instructed to leave it. What you choose to do with it is your business. But under no circumstances am I to return the envelope to the Beaumonts.”

  Chaz’s gaze sharpened. “The Beaumonts?” The question had more bite than he’d intended. The footman took a hasty step backward, raising the tray like a shield. “Rafe Beaumont?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What happened to the Montagues?”

  “The elder Montagues have retired. Their daughter, Ella, is now married to Mr. Beaumont, and they host the balls.”

  “Give me the envelope. Now.”

  “At once, sir.” With a quick nod, the footman extended the tray once again. It trembled notably. The second Chaz took the envelope, the footman turned around and hotfooted it out the front door toward a waiting limo.

  “What’s in the envelope?” Penny questioned suspiciously.

  “An invite.”

  “What sorta invite?”

  “It’s for a lot of things.” To revisit the past. For revenge. But most importantly, it was an invitation that would allow him to satisfy Doña Isabella’s demands.

  “Huh?”

  “You heard the man, Penny.” Chaz fixed his attention on the envelope, sensing the winds of change sweeping across the Rocky Mountains. Dry, harsh winds originating from the unforgiving desert surrounding Forever, Nevada. “It’s for a ball. A marriage ball. Meet the woman of your dreams and many her—all in one night.”

  “And you’re going to this ball thing the idiot was talking about?” his foreman asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, old man. I am.” A remote coldness filled the crags of a hard-lived face. “Not only am I going, I’ll be bringing back a wife.”

  The Beaumont Residence—La Finca de Esperanza, Milagra, Costa Rica

  Shayne stared up at the starlit Costa Rican sky. The moon hovered overhead, as full and white and beautiful as any she’d seen. She opened her hand and stared at the gold ticket that had arrived by special messenger earlier that day. It glittered gently beneath the moon’s softer light. But even so, it had a brilliant flash and fire she remembered well, one that spoke of hope and love... and dreams long lost.

  “Why did he send it?” she asked aloud.

  Of course, there was no answer. Not that she expected any. She didn’t have any doubt that her brother was behind the gift. Was it a prompt? A suggestion that she get on with her life? She’d done that already. Okay, so she wasn’t happily married like Rafe and Ella. Still... She had a satisfying career. She ran the coffee finca when her brother was absent. And she was content, if not perfectly happy. What more could she want?

  Chaz McIntyre.

  His name came as easily to mind now as it had nine impossibly long years ago. Where was he? What was he up to? Did he ever think about her and what they’d almost had? Or had he moved on with that part of his life?

  For a long time she stood sheathed in white light, the ticket glowing in her palm like a living entity. Finally, she closed her fingers around it and lifted her face to the moon.

  “I’ll do it. One last time, I’ll attend the Cinderella Ball.”

  The ball would be the key to her future. She’d move forward by stepping into a new life. She’d finally put the past behind her once and for all. And never again would she look back with regret.

  CHAPTER ONE

  To My Long-Lost Bride,

  I don’t know if this will ever reach you. Whether you will ever know how I’ve searched for you over the past two months—ever since the night we married at the Cinderella Ball. But I have searched.

  Everywhere.

  The Montagues won’t give me any information, even though I’ve shown them our marriage license. I spoke to Ella She’s hurting because of your brother, too. It’s like you’ve vanished off the face of the earth. I’m thinking of hiring a private investigator to find you, but I don’t know where to tell him to look. All you said was you lived on a coffee plantation. But where? Dammit, it never occurred to me to ask! I thought we’d have all the time in the world to find out the details of our past.

  gnow this, light of my soul.... The one thing that won’t vanish is what I feel for you. You are my life and my love, my one star in a dark night sky. Fight for what we had. And come back to me.

  Until that day, you live in my heart, my Forever Love.

  The Beaumonts’ Cinderella Ball—Forever, Nevada

  CHAZ McIntyre propped a shoulder against the wall as he waited for the reception line to move forward. What the hell was he doing here? Here, of all places. This had to be the one corner in Hades guaranteed to hold the worst memories of any he’d ever experienced. And yet here he stood, like some sort of fool, begging Rafe Beaumont to stick it to him one last time.

  He swore viciously beneath his breath. He’d spent years protecting himself from the sort of hurt Beaumont specialized in doling out. Still, with one unreasonable decree, an arrogant old woman had done the impossible—put him right back where he least wanted to be.

  The line inched forward a little farther and he caught a glimpse of the man who’d taken such delight in screwing with his life. Amazing. Nine years had passed and yet the SOB hadn’t changed a lick. What about Shayne? he couldn’t help wondering. Had she changed? She’d have had to. When he’d last seen her, she’d been a seventeen-year-old child pretending to be an adult. Now she’d be... what? Twenty-six? Almost twenty-seven. Would she be here tonight? Is that why Rafe had sent the ticket?

  A coldness seeped deep inside, relentless and all-pervasive, consuming him with comforting familiarity. Shayne didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except achieving his goal.

  It took another few minutes before he reached the head of the line. Ella Montague stood at Rafe’s side. Correction. Ella Beaumont. She’d been a Montague when they’d last met. So Rafe had gained a wife, while robbing Chaz of his. The sheer irony made him bare his teeth in a parody of a smile.

  “McIntyre,” Rafe greeted him with a stiff nod.

  “Beaumont.” Chaz caught the wary look in the older man’s eyes and allowed his smile to grow, edging it with animosity. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

  “You came. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “Mind telling me why you sent the ticket?”

  Rafe hesitated and then inclined his head toward an area where they’d have more privacy. Once they were clear of the reception line, he said, “I thought I owed it to you.”

  “Now why would you think you owe me anything?” The soft question had an unexpected bite.

  A muscle rippled along Rafe’s jawline, acknowledging the hit. “You wish me to admit it? Very well. I interfered in your marriage, in your relationship with m
y sister. Does that satisfy you?”

  It should have. But for some infuriating reason, it didn’t. He checked his anger, aware it would be a mistake to allow it too much freedom. Once released, it would be near impossible to contain. “You were just protecting your family. I can understand that. I’d probably have done the same thing if I’d found my seventeen-year-old sister shacked up with an older man.”

  “You weren’t shacked up. You were married.”

  “Well... Not legally.” The wrath Chaz had been struggling to control surged to the surface. It shocked him to realize he still reacted with such unchecked fury, even after all these years. “You saw to that, right?”

  “She was a vulnerable child! She slipped into the ball when no one was looking. And then she attached herself to the first man to smile at her.” Apparently, Chaz wasn’t the only one still harboring hard feelings. “What did you expect me to do?”

  “I expected you to give us a chance.”

  “How? Why?” Rafe’s voice dropped, the sound raw with frustration. “I was due to return to Costa Rica. You expected me to leave my seventeen-year-old sister behind with a man she’d known only a few short hours? You were a footloose cowboy without home or roots or goals. What if something had gone wrong? What if she’d needed me?”

  “She was my wife, dammit. Did you really think I’d do anything to harm her?”

  “How would I know? You admitted you had attended on a whim. You didn’t even have a ticket. You simply slipped in through the garden. You could have been anyone. A security check hadn’t even been run on you. You were a self-confessed drifter.”