Hold on My Heart (30 page)

“A
ll right, I admit it,” Ginny whispered to Libby. “These dresses are as uncomfortable as hell, but I feel kind of sexy, in a wenchy sort of way.”

Libby giggled behind her bouquet of posies. “Kind of makes you want to get swashbuckled, doesn’t it?”

They stood together next to the makeshift altar inside the ice-cream parlor. Friends and family, some even wearing medieval costumes, including her parents, sat on fabric-covered folding chairs. Lute music wafted through the room, courtesy of a very modern iPod and some good speakers, and the heavy, sweet scent of roses clung to the air.

“I think you have a pretty good chance of getting yourself swashbuckled,” Ginny whispered back. “Tom hasn’t stopped staring at you since we walked in.”

Libby caught his eye and smiled. She’d seen him quite a bit over the past week and a half, and each time she did, she fell for him a little harder.

At last, Marti and their father came through the door and began their progression. It was slow going with him on crutches, but he was determined to do it. Marti looked every inch the gorgeous bride in her velvet dress, with her auburn hair spun in ringlets down her back. Happiness glowed all around her.

Arriving at the altar, Marti kissed their dad’s cheek. “I love you, Daddy,” she murmured.

“I love you, too, Martha.” His voice was thick. He shook hands with Dante before hobbling over to his seat, the feather in his jaunty hat fluttering a bit. Libby saw him dash away a sentimental tear, and her mother handed him a handkerchief that was knotted up and probably already damp. Nana sat on the other side of her in a sparkly, pink chiffon dress.

Dante took Marti by the arm and smiled at her as if she were an oasis in the desert. He was charming in his medieval garb. Two of his brothers stood at his side, dressed as he was. Even Ivan had joined in and wore a brown monk’s robe. And in spite of being a tattoo artist/minister of dubious origins, he did a commendable job leading the bride and groom through their vows.

Libby felt her emotions swell, and she nearly erupted into tears when Dante promised to love and cherish her little sister. She wanted to look at Tom just then but didn’t dare. He’d read every emotion on her face if she did. It was bad enough to have fallen so stupidly in love with someone she’d known for only three months, and quite another thing to let him know it.

Libby’s father stood at one end of the long table set up in the middle of the ice-cream parlor, with Marti and Dante on either side of him, beaming at each other.

Everyone had taken a seat, but the conversation stopped as soon as Dante clinked his fork against the goblet he was holding.

The forks had been a concession by the bride and groom. They’d wanted to use their hands in true medieval fashion, but that was where Libby drew the line. She wasn’t going to set up any event that didn’t include utensils.

Libby reached over and squeezed Tom’s hand as all the guests quieted around them. He squeezed back.

Her father cleared his throat. “As I’m sure everyone here knows, the term
honeymoon
comes from the old tradition of a bride and groom drinking honeyed mead for one month after the nuptials to ensure good fortune.”

“I didn’t know that. Did you know that?” Tom whispered in her ear, his breath warm and enticing.

She squeezed his hand again.

“In that spirit, my lovely daughter Liberty has procured several bottles for us to toast with this evening. Therefore, please indulge me while I say a few words about my daughter and her new husband.”

Everyone seemed to shift and find a more comfortable position in their chairs. Word about her father and his long-windedness must have spread.

“When I first met Dante, I’ll admit, I didn’t quite know what to make of him.”

A murmur of laughter rippled around the table, mainly from Dante’s relatives.

“But over these last few weeks I’ve come to recognize him as dependable, industrious, inquisitive, and quite honestly, a little eccentric. A man not unlike myself.”

More ripples of laughter.

“Dante is a good man, and he loves my daughter, and so it is with much joy that I welcome him into our family.”

Libby’s father turned toward Marti. “Martha, you have been my little girl, my constant cheerleader, and my biggest challenge.”

Marti smiled, her cheeks flushed with pink.

“I’m very proud of the young woman you’ve become. Your happiness is tantamount to mine, and so I send you off on this matrimonial journey with an Irish blessing: May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past. May your hands be forever clasped in friendship, and your hearts joined forever in love. To the bride and groom.”

Glasses went
plink
and
clink
as they were raised from the table and everyone toasted. Libby tapped her glass against Tom’s and nearly melted into a puddle at the sentimental look in his eyes.

Dinner went on, more toasts were offered, and quite a few jokes were made at Dante’s expense. The bride and groom laughed and kissed… and kissed again. And Libby felt a wonderful certainty that her sister was going to be happy. She looked down the table at Ginny. Ben was next to her, holding Teddy in the crook of his arm like a football, a comfortable, cuddly football. Still the picture-perfect couple. Even her mother and Nana were chatting together with smiles on their faces. It must be something in the mead, a magical ingredient. Good fortune, her dad had said. She took a gulp from her glass and smiled at Tom.

It was late in the evening when Libby’s mother came to Libby’s side and said, “Your father and I need to get Nana home, Libby. She’s a little loopy from the mead. And quite frankly, I need to get out of this dress. I can’t believe I agreed to wear it.”

Libby kissed her mother on the cheek. “You look like a queen, though, Mom. Dad looks more like a jester.”

“That’s no coincidence.” Her mom smiled. “Listen, I hate to even ask you this, but would you mind making sure everything is locked up once everyone is gone? I told Marti, but she’s not listening, and Ginny needs to get home to feed the baby.”

“Sure. That’s no problem. Is it?” Libby turned to Tom. He was her ride and her official date, after all. And she’d come here in Ginny’s car.

Tom shook his head. “No, of course not.”

Libby’s mother patted her shoulder. “You did so much to pull this all together. Both of you. And I’m amazed at how lovely everything looks. You outdid yourself, Libby.”

Libby warmed from the compliment. “It was fun. This used to be my job, you know.”

“I know. I was actually thinking about that. Maybe you could do this for other people in Monroe.”

“Host dungeon-themed, ice-cream parlor weddings?”

Her mother chuckled. “No, not exactly. But you could plan events just like you did in Chicago, couldn’t you? I know you’re used to great big venues, but you’ve got a real knack for this. Just a few days ago this was an empty room, but now it’s all so pretty. I wish we could keep it like this.”

Libby looked around. Her mother was right. It
was
pretty in here, and Libby had made that happen. She’d promised a pretty significant number of free ice-cream cones to the vendors around town, too, but in the end, they’d all come through with low prices, and some had even donated flowers and tulle. And in the process, she’d made some good connections. She’d forgotten how interwoven everyone was in Monroe, how much people were willing to lend a hand. And how much fun it was to assemble all the pieces of an event. Like putting together a real-life puzzle and watching as it turned into a picture. Her mother’s idea had some merit.

“I’ll have to give that some thought, Mom. Give Nana a kiss for me, okay?”

“I will. I’ll see you later. Your father says good night. He can’t be up on that foot anymore.”

Her father was waiting by the door, his medieval tunic hanging down past his hips, his cap now askew. He raised his hand to wave good-bye.

“Maybe we should help your dad and Nana get to the car,” Tom said.

Libby shook her head and tugged on his plain white dress shirt instead. No amount of cajoling could convince him to dress the medieval part tonight, but he looked damn fine in a regular old suit. His jacket was hung over a chair somewhere now, and he’d rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

She pulled him under a trellis of flowers just as soon as her mother turned her back.

“No, they’re fine,” Libby whispered. “And we haven’t had much time together tonight. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

His hands came to rest on her waist. “You do put on a nice party, Miss Hamilton. And might I add, that is some dress. It’s got me quite distracted.” He peered down at her well-displayed cleavage. The corset was uncomfortable, but it did serve a useful purpose if it made him look at her like that.

“What, this old thing?” She laughed, and then she kissed him, not caring who saw or what they thought. Not her sisters or her parents or her grandmother. She just needed to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight, kissing back as if they were alone in the world.

“Hey!” Marti called. “It’s my wedding night, not yours.”

Libby felt another giggle welling up and pulled away. His eyes were dark and full of promise, and she wanted nothing more than to explore that.

But it was another hour before the last of the guests left. Libby tried to shoo them out faster, even turning off most of the lights, hoping they’d get the hint, but Marti and Dante were full of euphoria and love for every single person, dragging out the good-byes way too long.

“Are you sure we can’t stay and help you clean up?” Marti offered. “I feel bad leaving you here to do this yourself.”

“No, we got it. Honestly, you go on.” Libby waved them away with both hands. “Go play married couple now.”

Marti giggled. “Oh, that’s right. We’re married, aren’t we? How cool is that?”

Dante slid his arm around her waist and swung her toward the door. “Very cool. Let’s go.” He reached out with his other arm and shook Tom’s hand. “Thanks—you guys are the bomb. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out so we can clean up.” Libby pushed him by the shoulder, out the door into the dark, and shut it tight behind them.

She turned around and leaned against it, exhausted. But Tom was standing there in his nice pants and his dress shirt, and she suddenly felt reenergized. Or at least bits of her did.

“Hi,” she said, a flutter starting in the center of her and spreading out in every direction.

“Hi.” His voice was husky and rich.

“We’re alone.”

In two strides he was pressed up against her, his body hard and hot.

Relief and desire stirred all her senses wide awake. She hadn’t been to his house in the last three days, and it felt like three months.

It must’ve felt like that for him, too, because he kissed her with a welcome urgency and pushed her back against the door. She tried to move her leg, but the heavy fabric of her skirt trapped her.

Tom trailed his mouth down the side of her neck and ran his hands up the stiff corset, stopping near the top. He lifted his head and stared down.

“I like this dress,” he told her breasts, and Libby laughed as he kissed the tops of them. She loved this playful side, the one he’d kept hidden down deep.

The ice-cream parlor was bathed in a faint glow from just a few borrowed lamps tucked away in the corners. Roses still scented the air, giving the whole place an oddly otherworldly feel. But tables cluttered with cups and plates were all around.

She looked over his shoulder and gave a little sigh. “This place is kind of a mess.”

“I’m kind of a mess. Let’s go to my house and get you out of that dress.” His words sizzled against her skin. A deliciously wicked notion filled her thoughts. A hungry, wicked idea.

“Uh-uh.” She ran her fingers around the back of his neck as he lifted his head again.

“Uh-uh?” he repeated, looking dismayed.

“This dress is a labyrinth to get out of. I can’t wait that long. We’ll have to work around it.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed his mouth, maneuvering him backward toward a chair. “Sit down.”