Free The Bad Luck Wedding Cake by Geralyn Dawson

he stopped. He thought about the woman waiting for him in the buggy and the women waiting for him back in town.
    He thought of the woman lying in a grave in South Carolina. Constance West McBride, his brother’s first wife, his nieces’ mother. The lying, deceitful bitch. God curse her soul.
    He knelt on one knee and opened the bag on the ground, releasing the sand-colored toads. As they darted off into the brush, he muttered, “If not for the Blessings, I’d run away with you.”

Plant a penny when the dogwood blooms to avoid bad luck .

    CHAPTER 5

    HER TEMPER STILL HIGH the following day, Claire chose to bake up a batch of Swedish rye bread. Slathered in butter, it was her favorite hot-out-of-the-oven treat. The aroma of the baking bread soothed her, and the subtle blend of anise and fennel delighted the tongue.
    This particular day the task served another purpose. The physical effort of kneading the dough was a great way to work off her anger.
    She had six loaves baked and muffins in the oven when a fist pounded on The Confectionary’s front door. “Catherine Claire, are you in there?” a man shouted.
    The flour barrel lid slipped from Claire’s hand and clattered to the floor. She closed her eyes. How in the world did they find me?
    “Catherine Claire Donovan, you open this door this minute!”
    Lars . She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Oh, damn. She’d been discovered.
    Her hand trembled as she lifted the lid and replaced it. Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her apron, she walked toward the outer door. Sure enough, on the other side of the doorway stood the tall, blond, angelically handsome Lars Sundine. He was her brother Patrick’s best friend. Her friend, too. For years Lars had been like a third brother to Claire. He also had been the only one who listened to her protests about the marriage to Reid.
    Claire closed her eyes. How did the family find me so fast? She said a silent prayer, turned the lock, and opened the door.
    “Well at least you had it locked,” he said, his tone as sharp as her favorite paring knife. Tall and broad, with big, meaty forearms and hands, he seemed to fill the vestibule to overflowing. He wore a mustache and a scowl mean enough to scare a coyote off his kill. “Ah, Clary, do you know what you’ve done? I have half a mind to put you over my knee and give you the whipping you deserve.”
    Like a flash fire, her anger ignited. She wasn’t going to stand there and be harangued in her own bakery.
    “Try it and lose a hand,” she replied, slamming the door in his face. She whirled around, ready to march back into her kitchen, knowing he’d follow right behind her. When he didn’t, she paused. She waited in the middle of her shop for a full minute, and still didn’t hear his footsteps. Pursing her lips, she retraced her steps and slowly opened the door. What she saw brought a lump of emotion to her throat.
    The big, burly Swede stood in the vestibule with tears overflowing his sky-blue eyes and rolling down his cheeks.
    “Lars?”
    He swallowed hard. “Damnation, Clary. We’ve all been so scared. Come here.” He tugged her into his arms and squeezed her tight. “Thank God you’re all right. I could kill you for running off like that. How could you do that to the people who love you?”
    “Love me?” she replied. “If they loved me how could they force me to marry Reid?”
    His expression gentled. “Ah, Clary. I love you. You know that. C’mon, offer me something to eat and drink. It’s been a long day and a very long trip.”
    “How did you find me, Lars?”
    He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I remembered how you talked about railroad terminal towns and how they’d be a good place to build a business because they were new and fast-growing. I figured Fort Worth was far enough away from the Donovans, but not too far away for a girl leaving home for the first time. It was a hunch that paid off. I got to town late last night and tracked