Free Casteel 03 Fallen Hearts by V. C. Andrews Page A

future--"
He suddenly stopped. The crowd began turning their heads, trying to follow his line of vision. Jillian was stepping out onto the dance floor. A wave of astonishment rippled through the large sea of guests. Jillian continued drifting toward the stage, Martha Goodman scurrying like a duck behind her
Jillian was dressed in her wedding gown. She had always had a beautiful, slim, and graceful figure. Even in her state of madness, she had no trouble fitting into it as perfectly as she had the day of her marriage to Tony. Her golden hair, bleached to the point where it looked like a mop of straw, was brushed down the sides of her face and the back of her head in stiff strands that curled at the ends. There were two blotches of dark pink rouge on the crowns of her cheekbones, and her lipstick, now the color of dried blood, was just as caked as it had been the first day I saw her in her suite.
She stopped at the bottom step of the stage and turned to look at the crowd of gawkers.
"Thank you all for coming. Thank you," she said. "This is the happiest day of my life, the day I'm to marry Mr. Anthony Tatterton. I'm so happy so many of you chose to share it with me. Please, please enjoy yourselves."
For a moment no one moved or said anything. Then Martha whispered something in her ear.
"This is my wedding, this is my special day," Jillian said, turning to Martha with a ferocious look. She brushed back a strand of her wild, strawlike hair. "These people came to see me! They came to be witness to my wedding, to my everlasting devotion to Tony Tatterton . . and I know," she said, her voice almost a whisper now, "I know that his love for me will always remain true." All the strength suddenly drained from her posture and she had to lean on Martha as on a crutch.
"Miss Jillian," Martha said tenderly, leading her back to her seat.
The crowd was dumbstruck. Tony regained his composure and stepped back up to the microphone as though nothing peculiar at all had occurred.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began again, "a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Logan Stonewall."
"Hear hear," the men in the crowd chorused, trying to hide their embarrassment, and over four hundred people drank to our happiness and good health.
"Heaven, Logan, I wish you long life and happiness and as a token of that wish, I present you with this - "
He raised his free hand to signal and the audience and Logan and I all looked toward where he pointed: a brand-new silver Rolls-Royce with ribbons wrapped around appeared. The crowd uttered one unilateral sigh of appreciation as it drove toward us. I looked up at Tony and saw the determination on his face.
There was no limit to what he would do to win my heart and devotion, I thought. His love for me was both ruthless and overwhelming. Once again that pang of fear I had felt on the dance floor returned. For a moment my handsome secret father looked like the Devil incarnate. I felt helpless before such power and wealth, such unyielding love.
I turned to Logan to see his reaction. His face was filled with happiness, his cheeks crimson, his eyes lit, his mouth opened in an expression of utter awe. He squeezed my hand, then dropped it and stepped forward to admire Tony's gleaming, extraordinary gift. I followed behind. Logan turned to me, his face so filled with happiness he nearly brought me to tears.
"Oh, Heaven," he said, "I don't think it's possible to be any happier than I am at this moment."
"I hope so, Logan," I said. "I hope so." His face was beaming so. How easy he was to please and make happy, I thought. His happiness was never clouded by dark suspicions as mine was. How I needed a man like him. I wanted to cuddle in his arms forever.
"Oh, Logan, I love you. Love me forever and ever like you do now," I pleaded as I fell into his arms.
"I will. I promise," he said.
When we kissed we were almost oblivious to everyone and everything around us. Then the crowd of well-wishers cheered again and the party continued. Logan and his new young