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time deciding on caterers and flowers, food and decorations, and obtaining the all-important wedding-license. Finally she threw her hands in the air and dropped the entire mess in the laps of her grandmother and Inez Arroya. 'You decide,' she begged. 'Just keep it simple.'
    'But, sehorita, por favor...' Inez protested. 'The wedding, it should be perfect. What if we make a mistake? You will be very unhappy. Don't you care?'
    Didn't she care? Leah turned away. She cared too much. That was the problem. How could she plan for the wedding of her dreams when the ceremony on Friday would be anything but? 'Whatever you decide will be perfect,' she said flatly. 'Just remember. Keep it simple.'

    'What about your dress?' Rose reminded, before Leah could escape. 'You've deliberately ignored that minor detail, haven't you?'
    'I thought I could pick something up on Thursday,' Leah said, refusing to acknowledge the truth in her grandmother's words.
    But on this one point Rose became surprisingly obstinate. 'Oh, no, you don't, my girl. I have the perfect gown for you. Your mother wore it for her wedding and it's the most unusual dress I've ever laid eyes on. It's packed away in the attic, if memory serves. Find it and see if it fits. Though considering how much you resemble your momma, I'd be surprised if it didn't.'
    Reluctantly, Leah obeyed. It took a good bit of searching, but she eventually found a huge, sealed box with her mother's name and the date of her wedding scrawled across one end. Wiping away the dust, she carried it downstairs. She didn't return to the kitchen, needing a moment alone in the privacy of her bedroom to examine her mother's wedding-dress. Closing and locking the door, she settled on the floor and carefully cut open the box.
    Lifting off the lid, she sank back on her heels, her breath catching in her throat. Her grandmother had been right. It was the most unusual dress Leah had ever seen. Her mother had been a teacher of medieval history and her dress reflected her obsession, right down to the filmy veil with its accompanying silver circlet. It was beautiful and romantic, the sort of dress young women dreamed of wearing.
    And Leah hated it with a passion that left her shaking.
    The dress promised joy and happiness, not the businesslike relationship soon to be hers. The dress promised a lifetime of laughter and companionship, not the strife and friction that was all she could expect from

    an empty marriage. But most of all the dress promised everlasting love, not the bitterness and pain that consumed her husband-to-be. She ached for the future the dress suggested, but knew it could never be hers.
    This marriage would be an act of vengeance, and she nothing more than a pawn in Hunter's game. It was a way to even up old scores for the abuse he'd suffered at her father's hands. Soon he would be master of his enemy's castle and she'd be at his mercy. How long would it take before he had it all? How long before he controlled not just the ranch but her heart and soul as well?
    How long before he had his final revenge?
    Gently she replaced the lid of the box. She couldn't wear her mother's wedding-gown. It wouldn't be right. It would be... sacrilegious. She'd drive into town and find a chic ivory suit that spoke of modern marriages and easy divorces. And instead of a gauzy veil she'd purchase a pert little hat that no one would dream of referring to as * romantic'.
    Not giving herself time to reconsider, she shoved the box beneath her bed. Then she ran outside and whistled for Dreamseeker, needing just for an instant to feel what her stallion felt—free and wild and unfettered. But the horse didn't respond to her call. And in that instant Leah felt more alone than she ever had before in her life.
    'What do you mean, I can't wear the suit?' Leah demanded of Inez. 'Why can't I? Where is it?'
    'Arrunina, senorita. Lo siento. '
    'Ruined! How?'
    'The iron, it burned your dress.'
    'But the dress didn't need ironing.'
    The