The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie by Bonnie K. Winn Page A

named a colony on Mars or perhaps one of the “Star Trek” destinations.
    Brynn called on Stephanie’s courage and her grandmother’s memories. “Because it’s always been so special to me. As a Magee, I grew up hearing stories about the home of my ancestors from my grandmother.” She warmed to the tale. “And I’d dreamed about the land—from muddy mountainside sheep trails to old country roads that wound through the forests. I wanted to explore the west coast from Shannon to the Killarney Lakes to the Kerry Way Trail.” Her voice unintentionally softened. “To see every inch of County Cork from the wild mountain lands of the west—to the great castles—to the tiny villages sheltered by the mountains and caressed by the seas.” Brynn halted, embarrassed by her rush of poetic wanderings. Clearing her throat, she averted her head, staring at the album rather than her rapt audience as she tried to make her tone matter-of fact. “Gregory knew that and was happy to go there.”
    Turning the page, the next picture was of the beautiful Irish countryside where the church stood. She and Gregory were silhouetted against the misty lowlands.
    “It looks kind of remote,” Miranda noticed.
    “It is,” Brynn agreed. “It’s on the way to Brandon’s Cottage in the Macgillycuddy Reeks mountains. This little country town’s just a tiny place—this is the only church.”
    “Not an easy place to have a formal wedding. That would have been a difficult place to invite guests if you hadn’t eloped,” Ruth noticed, a new light shining in her eyes.
    “Absolutely,” Brynn agreed. “Miranda was right. It’s extremely remote. Not the sort of place you’d hop off a plane and whiz to the nearest Hyatt.”
    “Doesn’t seem like Gregory’s sort of thing,” Wilma commented. “I thought he’d go for a big society splash.”
    “Which isn’t my sort of thing,” Brynn answered, knowing it was true. She would hate to be the center of a huge, highly orchestrated wedding.
    “You have changed that man,” Wilma said with a laugh.
    Knowing it would do no good to argue, Brynn turned the pages. The next photo was the first one of them in full bridal dress. She couldn’t help lingering on this picture as she always did. The computer image of the dress she’d chosen was no less than a wonder. Exquisite Irish lace, a breathtaking headdress that for once made it look as though her dark hair was not completely wild, it was a wedding ensemble that had hovered in her imagination for years. A few quick sketches on her part, which were then translated by the computer, had made it a reality.
    Now the oohs and aahs filled the lobby.
    “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Wilma breathed, her own romantic nature peeking through. “It’s as though the lace was spun by elves.”
    The other women chimed in with soft exclamations of delight.
    “It’s exquisite,” Becky uttered through a dreamy sigh.
    “You make a gorgeous couple,” Cynthia offered.
    “Even a cynic like me recognizes true love,” Jean agreed.
    Touched by their support, Brynn managed to smile as she turned the next pages.
    Pictures of her walking hand in hand with Gregory through the countryside; a tiny country inn that she told them had been their honeymoon spot; arm in arm in front of Ross Castle. Then an evocative picture of them standing on the edge of the Cliffs of Moher on the Atlantic coast. Waves crashed against the rocks, sending spray upward, just beyond the happy-looking couple.
    It was, all in all, a romantic, heart-softening book of memories. Seeing the damp eyes of the women who surrounded her, Brynn could tell they had been affected by the pictures. And for a moment it all seemed real—the courtship, the wedding, her relationship with Gregory, the new friends she was making.
    From the corner of one misty eye, she spotted Matt. He lounged on the sidelines, but one look at his face told her he’d heard everything. In that same instant, her