Tyrone met her eyes and realized his mistake. "But last night I thought-"

"Well, you thought wrong. You can ask my mother and father if you don't believe me. They took me home an hour before Raige arrived at the ball. I was asleep while you played out your little scene in the garden."

"How did you know about it?" Raige asked, not ready to believe her, even though he wanted to.

"Charlene came charging into my bedroom this morning, babbling about how she was the cause of the duel. I should have left the two of you on your own. I don't know why I bothered to come here."

By now, Charlene had arrived, frantically looking for Tyrone. Seeing him bloody, she ran to him. "What has Raige done to you?" she cried, dabbing her handkerchief at the wound on his face.

Tyrone looked confused. "Was it you I kissed last night, Charlene?"

Charlene looked at Jade pleadingly, but Jade had had enough.

"Tell them the truth," she demanded.

Charlene blushed and lowered her head. "I… oui, it was me."

Raige looked at her cynically. "You would lie for Jade."

Jade tossed the sword down and looked at him in disgust. "Do you think so little of me that you believe I would betray the vows I made to you? I do not want to marry a man who doubts my word or my virtue. What kind of marriage would we have, Raige?"

The three young people watched Jade as she walked away from them.

"You'd better go after her," Tyrone said at last. "I have a feeling that if you don't, you'll lose her. And you two belong together."

A slow smile lit Raige's face. "You are right." Forcefully, he threw his rapier upward, where it wedged in an overhanging branch of an oak tree. Without pausing, he ran after Jade, calling her name.

Jade had reached her horse, and since there was no one to help her, she was having difficulty mounting the sidesaddle. When she saw Raige approaching, she glared at him.

"Go back and finish what you started. And I am glad I know you for the kind of man you are. Are you going to challenge every man who looks at me to a duel?"

Laughingly, he came to her and turned her resisting face up to his. "I can't promise not to. You see, I'm hopelessly in love with you."

She lowered her eyes, studying the scuffed toe of her riding boot. "I don't… love you anymore."

He tilted her chin upward. ' 'Oui, you do. Your lips might deny it, but your eyes say otherwise." There was contrition in the depths of his golden eyes, and something more. "Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?"

In that moment, Jade heard a voice in her head, a faint voice. She knew not where it came from, but it urged her to take the happiness Raige offered.

"Oui," she said at last. "I forgive you, and I did not mean it when I said I no longer loved you."

There was triumph in Raige's eyes as he pulled her to him. "For now and forever, and even beyond, Jade, I will love you."

It was a day like no other. The sun was shining and the birds were singing a melodious song that sweetened the air.

Jade hurried down the aisle, her lace veil trailing behind her, her gaze on the man who stood at the altar.

As Raige waited, his dark eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, Jade knew such intense happiness that she thought her heart would burst.

She took his hand, and there before God, friends, and family, she pledged him her life and love for all eternity.

Epilogue

Betty Allendale greeted the three young couples who had just arrived from New Orleans. The Bridal Veil Inn was prosperous, often booked a year in advance, and most often by honeymooners who found the isolation and the history of the old plantation house romantic.

Betty smiled as she recited the same historical facts she had told for years.

"The inn, of course, draws its name from Jade St. Clair's wedding veil. Jade lived in the early 1800s and was as spunky as she was beautiful. She once challenged the man she loved to a duel. She married that same man, and she and Raige Belmanoir lived happily until the end of their days. They had five children and nineteen grandchildren, and twentieth-century descendants include a senator, three doctors, two of whom are women, five lawyers, and me, your hostess."

She paused, gazing upon the faces of her guests, who were hanging on her every word.

"On behalf of us all, I bid you welcome to Bridal Veil Inn."

Man of Her Dreams by Virginia Brown

Chapter One

Holly Springs, Mississippi, 1994

“You don't think they'll actually tear down the old house, do you? I'd forgotten it's so beautiful." Amanda Brandon Cresswell paused, gazing around the shadowed entrance hall. Though it had been more than two years since she'd come back to her childhood home for a visit, the house seemed to envelop her in a silent, dusty welcome. "I don't want them to destroy it."

Jessica Griffith stepped inside with a rattle of keys and a muffled exclamation. "But they probably will, Manda. And it's about time. This monstrosity looks as if it should be condemned. Why, the acreage the house sits on is worth more than the house itself."

Amanda stifled a sharp defense, saying instead, "It's been in my family since it was built in 1852. It has historical value, I would think."

"It might have at one time. Now it's too run-down." Tilting her head just as she had when they were both little girls playing dress-up in the third-story attic, Jessica gave her a sympathetic smile. "Look at it this way-it's for the best. With your great-aunt Hannah in the nursing home these past two years before she died, the trust fund ran so low it couldn't take care of her as well as this ol' house."

Amanda sighed. "Poor Aunt Hannah. She never expected to outlive my daddy. When he died, I think she just ignored the fact. I wish someone had told me about the will not being changed. Now it's too late. According to my attorney, there's nothing I can do to keep the house and property from being sold."

"It's your mean cousin Ronald's fault, but I guess that doesn't help any."

"No." Amanda drew in a deep breath. "It doesn't help at all. I wish his granddaddy had gone to California with the rest of the Scotts. Then this wouldn't be happening."

Jessica was silent, not pointing out the obvious truth that if Amanda's grandfather had properly provided for such a contingency in his will, the house would still belong just to the Brandons. But somehow Ronald Scott had found the old deeds and discovered that the limitations had run out. He'd immediately filed a claim. The judgment had been levied at a time when Amanda had been caught up in her own affairs in Memphis and Great-aunt Hannah was already in a Holly Springs nursing home. Without Hannah having appointed a proxy, Scott had been successful in his suit to have the property sold and the proceeds divided between all the remaining heirs on both sides of the family.

"Too bad your cousin wouldn't agree to try to get the house listed on the National Register of Historic Homes," Jessica said after a long moment of silence. "But maybe it's best this way. After all, you'll get a lot of money."

"I'd prefer keeping the house in the family. I even made the Scotts an offer to share ownership of the house as well as the surrounding acreage if they would agree not to sell to developers. They refused."

Amanda's throat tightened. Coming on the heels of other tragedies in her life, this was almost overwhelming. To keep back her tears, she focused on the delicately carved plaster frieze above the parlor door. Figures of knights errant and beautiful heroines had infused her imagination as a child. Now they left her with poignant memories as blurred with time as the plaster figures. Yet the two-story red brick antebellum home held more than just childhood memories of happier times; it was her only legacy.