Nathan’s grip on her hand became crushing, but he wore a mask of polite indifference on his face. “Uncle Fred, it’s good to see you,” he said.

“Nathan, you son of a gun,” the shorter man said, a grin creasing his tanned skin. “Glad you could make it.”

The silver-haired man pivoted slowly, as though he wasn’t sure what he would find behind him. Chloe’s breath hitched as she saw his face. There was no question he was Nathan’s father. The resemblance was extraordinary, right down to the way the general’s hair waved away from his forehead.

“Dad, Uncle Fred,” Nathan said, “I’d like you to meet Chloe Russell.”

She had to tug her hand loose from his to hold it out. “General Trainor, it’s a pleasure,” she said.

The older man was wearing white gloves, and he quickly stripped his right one off before taking her hand in a dry, firm hold. “A delightful surprise to meet you,” he said, his deep voice carrying a noticeable southern drawl. He gave her a quick penetrating look before shifting his gaze back to his son.

Chloe felt invisible as the two men locked eyes. They were matched in height and breadth of shoulder. The father was only slightly thicker through the waist than his son.

The general held out his hand to Nathan. “Thank you for coming.”

For a moment, she was afraid Nathan would spurn his father’s handshake, but he briefly gripped the outstretched hand before holding up the leather case. “I thought you’d want this for the ceremony,” he said.

The general’s attention had clearly been on his son and not on the luggage he carried, because surprise flickered in his eyes. “You thought right,” he said, taking the case.

Nathan nodded. “Congratulations.”

Then he took Chloe’s hand and started toward the door. She wanted to scream in frustration. The two men hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words, and those had been stiff and formal. When Nathan suddenly halted, she happily came to a stop, hoping he would offer something more to his father. He didn’t turn but simply looked over his shoulder to say, “I’ll need the sword back after the wedding.”

She had partially swiveled so she could see the general’s face. A strange look crossed it—a mixture of shock and gladness.

Then Nathan was moving again, and she was being towed along with him. She threw an apologetic smile to Uncle Fred, who nodded back with a rueful look.

“You and your father look so much alike,” she whispered as they approached the double doors that led into the nave of the chapel.

“And there the resemblance ends,” he muttered, relinquishing her hand when a young Marine offered her his arm to escort her down the aisle.

“Bride or groom?” the young man asked, so he could seat them on the proper side of the church.

“Family on the groom’s side,” Chloe said.

“We’ll sit with Ben and Ed,” Nathan contradicted from just behind her. “They’re up near the front.”

Chloe glanced around as she paced up the aisle beside her escort. When Nathan had mentioned a chapel, she’d expected something small and intimate. This was a huge open space of white walls lit by arched stained-glass windows under a ceiling supported by heavy, dark trusses. Row upon row of straight wooden pews marched down the nave in a neat military progression. She wasn’t sure how big a battalion was, but she imagined you could fit one in the church.

As they got closer to the altar, the pews were filled from the aisle to their midpoints. She spotted Ben and Ed three rows from the front and steered her escort toward them. Nathan gestured her aside so he could slide in first, giving her the aisle view.

Ed and Nathan exchanged murmurs, neither of them looking happy, and she suspected Ed was trying to persuade Nathan to sit in the front pew. On the bride’s side there were several family members, but the groom’s family pew held only one older couple and a single man.

Nathan must have followed her gaze because he said, “Those are my other two uncles and my aunt-in-law.”

Chloe hesitated, but the pew looked so empty. She’d persuaded Nathan to bring the sword. She should at least attempt to push him another step toward reconciliation with his father. “I think we should sit up there. Otherwise the bride’s side wins.”

He looked down at her with an odd glint in his eye. “You’re being Machiavellian again.” He turned and said something to Ed before taking her hand. “You’ve played on my competitive nature.”

She gave him a dazzling smile as they stood and walked to their new seats. This time Nathan sat between her and his relatives, creating a barrier to conversation. He nodded to his uncles and aunt but didn’t offer to introduce her.

“You’re being rude,” she whispered.

“I’m keeping you out of trouble.”

“Trouble for me or for you?”

“Both.” He laced his fingers with hers and stared straight ahead. She felt his nerves in the sporadic press of his fingers and saw it in the tiny tic of a muscle in his jaw.

“At least we have a chance against the bride’s side now. There are only eight of them. And they’re all short,” she whispered.

His grip on her hand eased, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

The brash, festive notes of a trumpet rang through the church, making her start. A door near the altar opened to allow General Trainor and Uncle Fred to walk through it with the measured pace of soldiers on parade. They took their positions and stood ramrod straight and unsmiling.