Branded by a Callahan

“A flighty girl. One who blows around at every wind.” Fiona sighed. “There’s only one way to know if Dante’s the man of your heart or not.”

“He’s not,” Ana assured her. “I mean, I’m not the right woman for him.”

“Pooh. You’d hate to throw away your soul mate just because you’ve got cold feet.” She smiled, her face gentle yet determined. “Now let’s just pop you into this dress and see what happens.” She opened a massive door, in which hung all kinds of plastic-wrapped clothes, and pulled out a white wedding gown.

Ana had heard all about the magic wedding dress. There was no way on the planet she was putting that thing on. She didn’t believe in charms or superstitions, but Callahan legend was thick around this place. “I better not, Fiona. I’m not looking for a husband.”

“Nonsense! Every woman wants a husband.” Fiona looked as if Ana had sprouted an extra head. “And especially a handsome devil like my nephew.”

“I don’t think—” Ana began, as Fiona dragged the gown from its sparkling wrapping. “I mean—”

“Now, then,” Fiona said, hanging the dress in front of a cheval mirror. “You go right ahead. Take your time.” She smiled. “I’m going to get back to my Yorkshire pudding.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Ana was a bit cowed by the gown. No way was she putting it on—what if it was magic? What if she saw herself in it and decided she wanted to become a bride? Get married?

No. It was all about the baby. When a woman only had one ovary, she didn’t have the luxury of wasting her chances on marriage first, then wishing for a pregnancy. “I don’t think I—”

“That’s just the thing,” Fiona said. “You won’t have to think. Once you put it on, you’ll know for certain.”

“Know what for certain?”

“Who your dream man is.” Fiona smiled at her, a benign and yet somehow cagey fairy godmother with a lacy lure. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“I suppose—”

“You wouldn’t risk throwing Dante back into the dating pool if he was your prince. Of course, you’ll be terribly disappointed if he isn’t your prince, I know,” Fiona said, her tone sympathetic and sorrowful for Ana’s pain in that circumstance, “but at least you’d know, right?”

Ana glanced at the gown, worried. It was a beautiful thing, and the Callahan brides she’d seen wear it had been stunning. Of course it was all Fiona’s storytelling, there was no such thing as magic. Just Fiona trying to up her matchmaking score by one more victim.

“In the Irish we say, an t-adh leat. Good luck, dear. And don’t forget the reason the gown is magic—you will see the face of the man you love, the prince who’s the true destiny of your heart. Or at least that’s what the Callahan girls have all said, each and every one.”

Humming, Fiona went down the stairs. Ana closed her eyes for a moment, debating. It was so silly. The game was to get her in the gown—and probably any wedding dress would do—so she’d start frothing at the mouth to rush to the altar. “I won’t fall for it. I can put that on and feel nothing. It’s just yards and yards of beautiful white lace and whatever else wedding gown dreams are spun from. No different from a bedsheet or...or a tablecloth. Just white fabric.”

She’d been in love with Dante for a long time, though she barely admitted it to herself. She was just careful, that was all, and a careful woman made certain that she chose the right man to father her child.

She could afford no mistakes. Natural caution was what made her an excellent bodyguard. There was still time to back away from the situation if Dante wasn’t the man who could make her dreams come true. “In love” wasn’t final, it wasn’t endless—not yet, not while she could still hold back from falling all the way.

Yet there was a bigger worry, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to: if Fiona was right—the story was crazy but Fiona was known to be uncannily right on many matters—what if the man who appeared to her wasn’t Dante?

Maybe it was better not to know if Dante wasn’t her dream man.

It would be awful to be in love with a man who wasn’t Mr. Right. On the other hand, did she want to know Dante was the man meant to make a magical future with her? Shouldn’t that be the surprise that came on secret dreams to both of them?

It almost felt like Dante was defenseless in the face of her participation in Fiona’s scheme.

“Pooh,” she murmured, “I doubt I see any man at all. Fiona’s got more stories than a fortune-teller at the state fair.”

Soft, tinkling music reached her ears. She glanced around, wondering if Fiona was piping music up to her to set the mood. “Fiona, I’m not buying your fairy godmother shtick.”

The music was pretty, so lilting and spellbinding that Ana finally smiled. Okay, so perhaps Fiona was using all her props to close the deal. It would be fun to try the gown on and throw cold water on the whole tale of magic nonsense.

Fascinated in spite of herself, Ana touched the wedding dress, her heart suddenly beating very fast. Shimmying out of her jeans and top, she stepped into the infamous magic wedding dress that had led so many Callahan brides to their fairy-tale endings.

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