Three Weddings And A Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

than usual. Determined to clear away the cobwebs, she blinked, but her brain refused to cooperate. Objects around her went in and out of focus, rushing at her as they took on clarity, then receding a bit. Gleaming oak pews? People’s faces and stained glass windows? She wasn’t in her bedroom at home, that was a certainty.
    “This is an abomination,” some other woman cried.
    “A sin against all that is holy, that’s what it is!” another exclaimed.
    All that was holy? Rachel had already determined she must be in the church. The question was , what was she doing there? She squeezed her eyes closed again to keep from being sick. Her head…Oh, God, her head felt as if it had been split by a sledge. Had she been stricken with a sudden illness? Maybe she had fainted. That would explain the oppressive weight that seemed to be holding her down. Olivia Harrington, a local matron, claimed that a lady’s limbs felt heavy and useless immediately after she regained consciousness from a swoon.
    Forcing her eyes back open, Rachel tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on her surroundings. Yes, she was definitely inside the church. A vague sense of alarm coursed through her. She remembered something about the church—something important—but for the life of her, she couldn’t think what. She only knew she had an awful feeling that something was dreadfully wrong.
    The weight that held her anchored to the floor shifted suddenly. The movements was followed by a moan, unmistakably that of a man. The sound, deep and raspy, vibrated through her torso, transforming her sense of alarm into full-blown panic. Someone was lying on her? A male someone? Oh, God. Now that she was coming more awake, she could feel his hand, large and warm, cupped over her breast. It felt as if there was next to nothing by way of clothing between his fingers and her skin.
    Forgetting the pain in her head, Rachel gave a thin cry and pushed at the man’s shoulders. Despite all her shoving, he didn’t so much as budge. Tucking in her chin, she glimpsed wavy black hair and darkly bronzed skin. In a twinkling, her memory of the previous night came rushing back to her.
    Matt Rafferty! She threw a horrified look at the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows.
    So close to her ear that his voice seemed a part of her thoughts, he whispered, “What the hell am I doing here?”
    That was Rachel’s question. “Off,” she croaked. “Get off me!”
    Not nearly as fast as she would have liked, he rose on one elbow. “What the—” When he glanced around them, his body snapped taut. “Oh, Christ!”
    She followed his gaze and saw that a crowd of people had entered the church. She had planned for this to happen—for him to awaken, surrounded by onlookers, and feel so humiliated he wanted to die. Only she wasn’t supposed to be here with him!
    So many people…Without her spectacles, she couldn’t see their faces very clearly, but even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all staring at her. A prickly sensation crawled over her skin. Like vultures waiting to feed on carrion, they pressed in around her, the different shades of their clothing a kaleidoscopic blur of color beneath the pale ovals of their faces. Filled with a mounting sense of dread, she touched a tremulous hand to her throat. Her bare throat?
    Startled, she looked down. To her dismay, she saw that the only thing covering her breasts was the thin cotton of her chemise. She gasped and brought up both hands to hide herself.
    When Matt noticed the state of her clothing, he glanced down at himself. Judging by the look that crossed his face when he saw that his gun belt was gone and that his trousers had been unfastened, he remembered little of what had happened.
    In a voice gone gravelly with sleep, he said, “What the hell?” As he scrambled off her, he began buttoning his blue jeans. “How did I—when did we—?”
    Before he could finish, one of the church doors swung