Chapter 3: Wrong Wedding, Wrong Groom

Evelyn's Point of View

The room was covered in red paper double-happiness characters. I sat quietly at the edge of the bed, waiting for my husband to lift my veil and share the nuptial cup with me.

The sound of leather shoes on the floor made my heart flutter with nerves.

The veil rose on the tip of a slender gold rod, and the world brightened. I kept my eyes lowered, too shy to look up.

An exquisite little cup was placed in my hand, and I took it.

We linked arms to drink, and the closeness filled the air with a thread of intimacy. It gave me a courage I hadn't expected. I lifted my head and said shyly, "Jul..."

The word died in my throat.

I shot to my feet. The cup slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a clang. "You... who are you?"

"Your husband," he said, his voice low.

"Wait. There's been a mistake." I backed away, step after step.

The man in front of me had a face so beautiful it stole my breath. His features looked chiseled by a master's hand, with sharp brows, dark eyes, a straight nose, and a mouth with the faintest curve to it. He was devastatingly attractive, and he was a complete stranger.

"There's no mistake." His voice was certain and commanding, and it frightened me. "You are Sebastian Blackwood's wife."

His gaze was a hawk's, cutting right through me, and a chill settled in my chest. I tried to explain. "You've got the wrong person. My husband is Julian Ashford. You married the wrong woman, and I married the wrong man."

"Evelyn Hart. Twenty-three. Adopted daughter of the Ashford family. Julian Ashford is your adoptive brother. Richard Ashford is your adoptive father, and Vivian Ashford is your adoptive mother. Correct?" His eyes were hard as he advanced on me, his tall frame crowding closer.

Every word was right.

I stared at his handsome face, dumbfounded. "Yes... no, wait. Julian is my brother, but now he's..."

"Evelyn, you slept with me." He closed the last of the distance, and with his height he trapped me in the small space between his body and the wall. "The ceremony is done, the cup is drunk, and you still want to deny it?"

Slept with him? When had I ever...?

"Sir, I don't know you," I forced out. "The man I'm supposed to marry is Jul..."

I never finished his name. His mouth came down on mine, ruthless and consuming, and took my breath away. His tongue swept across my lips and teeth, claiming every inch.

I was nearly suffocating. "I... really... don't know you."

"Say that again," Sebastian said coldly. "I dare you."

A cold sweat broke over me. "Who are you?"

His dark eyes narrowed. One calloused finger traced my lower lip. "Don't play innocent with me. You know I'm not a patient man."

His gaze moved down over my wedding gown, burning and unashamed. It was a look of pure hunger, a declaration that he wanted me.

I shrank back, my voice shaking. "What do you want? I'm warning you. Don't do anything rash..."

My eyes were wet and wide. My lips were flushed from his kiss, and against the red of the gown, the pale line of my throat looked almost translucent.

His throat bobbed. He caught my chin and tilted my face up. "You're my wife. I'll do as I please."

The man before me pressed closer, with an aura so overwhelming it frightened me, his eyes fixed on mine like a wolf's. For a moment I froze. Then I screamed. "Get away from me!"

He pinned me with almost no effort, leaving no space between us.

"What are you doing?" I kicked and shoved with everything I had. "Let go!"

My struggling pulled the front of the gown loose.

Sebastian's gaze darkened further, and he gave me his answer in two words.

"Claiming you."