Shotgun Bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  “This is the worst of it. You did get a bit of flooding in the kitchen, so I ripped up the linoleum.”

  “I assume I’ll need to replace the floorboards?”

  “They’re pretty warped,” she conceded. “But you could always tell people it adds character to the place if you’d rather not go to the expense of fixing them.”

  “Cute. Should I also tell them whose idea it was?”

  “Feel free,” she offered magnanimously. “I’m sure that’ll go a long way toward convincing people.”

  “Saint Annie strikes again?”

  A reluctant smile drifted across her mouth. “It can come in handy. Sometimes.” But not often, he read between the lines. She started plucking at her neckline, fanning herself in an effort to relieve the oppressive heat.

  Enough was enough. He could take it from here. “Come on. You’re sweltering. Let’s go downstairs.”

  After closing the window, they trooped to the second story. Annie paused in the hallway. “Oh! I just thought of something else you should see.” She sidetracked into the bedroom directly beneath the damaged portion of the roof and attic. Chunks of ceiling plaster had fallen, leaving gaping holes overhead, while wallpaper curled toward the floor along one whole wall. “This will need immediate attention, too.”

  Once again, she crossed to the nearest window. This one opened with ease. The screen meant to keep out mosquitoes and other flying menaces had long since shredded in seven years’ worth of nor’easters and tropical storms. A brisker breeze than the one in the attic swept through the room and Annie propped a hip in the open window, sighing in pleasure.

  “I always did love the views from here.”

  At one point he’d thought they’d have a lifetime together to appreciate all Soundings had to offer. That particular dream had died a hard death. “You’d have enjoyed the place more if your father hadn’t declared it taboo. I can’t count the number of times he came roaring up the drive to drag you off home.”

  Mischief glimmered in her eyes. “Which only encouraged me to come here at every opportunity.”

  His jaw clenched. “I shouldn’t have let you. You were too young.”

  “I was safe with you.”

  It was the wrong thing to say and her stricken expression acknowledged that fact. As though to underscore it, a gusty breeze caught the bedroom door and slammed it shut with an earsplitting bang. For an instant, neither of them moved. Then Annie scrambled to her feet and hastened to the door, grabbing at the diamond-cut glass knob.

  “I don’t believe this,” she muttered.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Sam joined her. “What’s wrong now?”

  She turned the knob rapidly back and forth, then shook it. “It won’t open.”

  “It’s probably warped like every other window and door in the place. Let me try.”

  “I can get it!” She attacked the knob with unmistakable ferocity, then froze. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  “Now what?”

  Slowly, she turned to face him, offering up the knob and part of the assembly. “I think I broke it.”

  “I think you’re right.” He took the knob and eased her to one side. Stooping, he peered at the mechanism. If he were careful, he might be able to slip everything together without the hardware on the other side falling out. If he were very, very—A muffled clang sounded in the hallway.

  “What happened?”

  He straightened. “You broke the door.”

  “Can’t you fix it?” A thread of panic sounded in her voice. “You’re good at that sort of stuff, aren’t you?”

  “I excel at finances. I’m okay at fixing stuff. And I downright stink at reaching through a one-inch-diameter hole and picking up a doorknob that’s rolled halfway across the hall.”

  “Can’t you break down the door?”

  Hell, she really was desperate. “Only if it’s half-eaten through by termites or dry rot.” He tested it with his shoulder. “Which this one apparently isn’t.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I intend to make myself comfortable until we’re rescued.”

  The only two pieces of furniture in the room were a bed and a rickety chair. He chose the bed. Propping himself against the headboard, he waited to see what she’d do next. She fluttered uselessly around the door for a few minutes, stooping to peek through the hole for the knob before pounding on the solid wooden panel. Eventually, she realized the utter futility of her actions and crossed to the chair, lowering herself gingerly onto it. To his disappointment, it held. If it hadn’t, he might have talked her into joining him on the bed. Maybe.

  “How long do you think it’ll be until someone comes?” she asked uneasily.

  “Depends on Aunt Myrtle. How long do you suppose it’ll take before she gets worried?”

  “Days.”

  He chuckled at her forlorn response. “In that case, it looks like you and I will have ample time to share this bed.” For some strange reason, that thoroughly alarmed her. She leaped to her feet and gave the door another try. “Calm down, Annie. I was only joking. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we just relax and talk a spell?”

  Her hand crept to the bodice of her dress again, the fingers splayed protectively across her chest. “About what?” she asked uneasily.

  “Tell me about your two sisters. You said Pansy and Bertie got married?”

  It worked like a charm. She returned to the chair and sat on the very edge of the seat, hands folded primly and ankles crossed. “I’m sure Aunt Myrtle must have kept you updated about everyone.”

  “In all honesty, we avoided reference to the Delacortes.”

  She winced. “Of course. Let’s see...Pansy married Bertie Hinkle the year Pops died.”

  “That wasn’t long after I left. Had she even graduated high school?”

  “The day before. She and Bertie married on her eighteenth birthday.” For an instant, Sam thought her mouth trembled. But perhaps he’d imagined it, since when he looked again, her chin was set at an aggressive angle that belied any hint of emotion. “They have a youngster now. A little boy I’ll have the pleasure of teaching in another two years. He’s likely to be as much of a bruiser as Bertie. Plus, she’s pregnant with her second.”

  “And Trish?”

  “She lives in Raleigh with her husband. They met at college a few years ago. She decided to be a teacher, too.” Annie smiled brightly. “She’s also expecting a baby. Hers is due this Christmas.”

  “So you really are the last Delacorte,” Sam observed.

  “Pansy and Trish are still Delacortes,” she retorted defensively. “They’ll always be Delacortes.”

  “But their children won’t.”

  “Neither will mine.” As though realizing they’d returned to one of the to-be-avoided-at-all-cost topics, she surged to her feet. “This is ridiculous. There must be a way out of here.”

  “Can’t bear to be alone with me?”

  He’d said the forbidden, her alarm as transparent as her dress in the sunlight. But still she didn’t back down. “No one will know unless you tell. And even then, I doubt anyone would believe it.”

  He released a bark of laughter. “Still the town virgin, I see. No dirt sticks to our Annie.”

  Her gaze turned bleak. “It will eventually.”

  It was the last thing he expected her to say. “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged, presenting him with a profile as pure and delicate as any he’d ever seen. “It’s impossible to stay a saint forever. Eventually, people will realize I’m fallible, just like everyone else.”

  “And in the meantime, you’re bent on giving them advance warning, is that it?”

  “Something like that,” she confessed.

  Now what the hell was behind this? She had a burr stuck in her craw, no question, but he was damned if he knew what had put it there. Myrtle had said Annie’d been acting strangely. Here was the proof. He left the bed and approached. “So you’re determ
ined to set the town on its collective ear by riding my motorcycle around town in dresses. What do the good folks of Delacorte Island have to say about that, I wonder?”

  “Isn’t that precious?” she mimicked. “Keepin’ that wicked ol’ Beaumont boy’s bike up and running.”

  He flicked a hand at the bright purple stripe that tinted her long blond curls. “And this?”

  She swept the strand away from her face. “Look at how it brings out the blue of her eyes.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “You know...it does.”

  “Not you, too!” Her pacing took on a frantic quality. “Care to guess what the principal said?”

  “Go home and wash the grape punch out of your hair?”

  “No. He asked if I wanted to do a hair day at school for all the kids. Can you believe it? They were each supposed to bring in a different flavor of punch so we could color everyone’s hair.”

  “How deflating. So what did you do then?”

  From the way she fiddled with the buttons on the front of her dress, he didn’t think she’d answer Finally, she whispered, “A belly ring.”

  He snorted. “That had to hurt.”

  “Actually, I passed out when it was half a belly ring, which is why it’s now a belly scar.”

  He tried to look sympathetic but found it impossible to suppress a grin. “I assume the sign in front of Myrtle’s was next How did that read? Something about being the last virgin—”

  “Not anymore it doesn’t,” she hastened to interrupt. “You’ll notice the ‘v’ word has been painted over. Apparently, one doesn’t use that word in public. The hens explained that it’s vulgar.”

  “Being vulgar didn’t knock you off your pedestal?”

  She sighed. “No. I was excused on the grounds that my momma died when I was bitty. For a while, the sign said ‘the last unsullied girl in town.’ That was thanks to Sheriff Rolly. Then the hens changed it to ‘one of the last innocents’ presumably because a few of them are under the mistaken impression that their daughters are still—”

  “The v word?”

  Annie shrugged. “It’s not my place to disabuse them.”

  “And why, exactly, did you feel the need to advertise your...ah...unsulliedness? Hoping to attract business?”

  “My reputation seems to be of such vital concern to everyone, I thought I’d reassure them on that count, at least.” He found her answer an intriguing one. But before he could question her further, she said, “Of course, I wouldn’t be in this predicament if I’d given in to you seven years ago.”

  “I’d be happy to correct the oversight.”

  “So I’ve been told. I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “You can try.” She might not know it, but she’d sealed her fate with that kiss they’d shared earlier. Any hesitation he might have felt about seducing her had been erased the minute her lips had parted beneath his and she’d welcomed him home. “But you won’t succeed.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”

  He settled onto the bed. “I mean that before I leave town I fully intend to make love to you.”

  “Quit joking around, Sam. This is hardly the time or place.”

  “I think it’s precisely the time and place. We have everything we need. Privacy, no interruptions for at least a couple of hours, each other and...” He patted the mattress. “A bed.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  Apparently, her desire to end her reign as Saint Annie only went so far. He tilted his head to one side. “Isn’t that what you want, what you’ve been working toward with your antics? You challenge people’s conception of you at every turn. All I’m suggesting is that you put your money where your mouth is. Or in this case, your unsullied self in my bed. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “There are limits, Sam.”

  “But, darlin’, I’ve offered you the perfect solution. If you want people to treat you differently, just spend the night in my arms. Then you can take down your sign, give me back my motorcycle, wash the punch out of your hair and live a happy life as a fallen woman.”

  Her chin rose a notch. “No, thank you.” So polite. So proper. So typical of a Delacorte. Without another word, she crossed to the window and stared out.

  “Rescue on the horizon?”

  “No.” She squared her shoulders. “Nor do I intend to wait for someone to rescue me. I can take care of that myself.”

  He was off the bed like a shot. “Get away from the window, Annie.”

  “Don’t fuss, Sam. I used to climb trees all the time.”

  “You used to fall out of trees all the time. That’s a live oak you’re thinking about swinging onto. The only branches within reach wouldn’t hold a squirrel.”

  She leaned out and grabbed at the closest ones. “They’ll hold me.”

  “No, they won’t.” He didn’t bother continuing the argument. Coming up behind, he wrapped an arm around her waist just as she threw herself toward a handful of pencil-thin branches. “Let go, Annie, so I can pull you in.”

  “You let go!”

  “If I do, you’ll fall.”

  She glared at him from over her shoulder. “No, if you do, I’ll climb down. Then I can open the door for you.”

  “I’m not letting go.”

  She wriggled in his arms, her backside doing serious damage to his self-control. “This is ridiculous. I can’t keep hanging here like this. I’m going to slip.”

  Enough was enough. “Listen to me, Annie. Let go. Now.”

  Apparently, she didn’t take orders any better than she climbed trees. She flipped her hair from her eyes and clung determinedly to the branches. “Sam Beaumont! This is your last warning. Get your hands off me right this minute or I’m going to kick you where it counts!”

  “Shouting is not going to change the situation.”

  “Maybe not, but it’ll make me feel a whole lot—uhoh.”

  “Come on, honey. Let go. If I drag you inside, you’re going to end up with a palm full of splinters.”

  “Er...Sam?”

  “You don’t want splinters on top of everything else, now do you?”

  “Sam, maybe you better let go.”

  “Not a—”

  “Sam!”

  He heard it then—outraged shouts, followed by the distinctive crash of a front door being ripped open and slammed against the side of the house. Undoubtedly, their visitors had seen Annie hanging out the window, seen him trying to pull her in, heard her shouts and put a dangerously wrong construction on what was happening—dangerously wrong for him, that was. An instant later, feet pounded on the stairs. It sounded like a stampede. Actually, it sounded more like a posse. He’d gotten familiar with that particular type of commotion. Something about Annie must bring out a lynch-mob mentality in folk.

  Annie cleared her throat. “I think you can go ahead and pull me in now.”

  “I gather we’re about to be rescued?”

  “Well, one of us, at any rate.” She peeked up at him. “And they didn’t look happy about it, either.”

  Seconds later, Sheriff Rolly pounded on the bedroom door. “Open up right this minute.”

  Sam swung Annie back into the bedroom. “I’m afraid that’s easier said than done, Sheriff.”

  There was a momentary scuffle and then Ben could be heard asking, “Where’s the knob? What’s he done to the door?”

  “I’m only going to warn you one more time, Beaumont. Either you open up right now and turn that poor girl loose or I’ll arrest you for...for...”

  “Kissing Annie?” Sam offered helpfully.

  “Oh, great,” she muttered. “You just had to go and say that, didn’t you?”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  “You didn’t kiss me here. You kissed me at Myrtle’s.”

  “Oh, right. Remind me to rectify the situation. I wouldn’t want to be accused of lying as well as sullying.”

  “I haven’t been sullied!”

&
nbsp; “Did you hear that?” Rolly shouted. “She’s been sullied! Stand back. boys. I’m gonna shoot the lousy SOB.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANNIE gaped at the door. “Did he say...? Sheriff Rawling! You don’t seriously intend to shoot—”

  Apparently, Sam thought the sheriff meant just that. Hooking an arm around her waist, he swept her clear of the doorway. “Let’s not do anything foolish, Sheriff.”

  “Foolish, is it? As far as I’m concerned, shootin’ you is the smartest thing I’m ever liable to do. Ain’t that right, boys?”

  “Now, Rolly,” Ben could be heard to placate, “you just can’t start blasting away at folks.”

  “Might hit our Annie,” came a rather belabored third voice.

  “Listen to the mayor, Sheriff,” Sam inserted. “Somebody could get hurt.”

  Rolly chuckled. “That’s what I’m countin’ on, son.”

  Annie attempted to fight free of Sam’s hold. The minute she succeeded, he swept her back into his arms, keeping her well clear of the door. Realizing it was pointless to continue struggling, she called out. “Mayor Pike? Is that you?”

  The breathless voice spoke up again. “You betcha, Annie. Whoo-ee, but it’s a hot one today. Thought all those stairs were going to do me in for sure.”

  Annie released a long-suffering sigh. “Would someone please open the door? The knob fell out and we’re stuck in here.”

  “How’d the Beaumont boy manage that?” the sheriff demanded.

  “He didn’t do a thing. I did it. Or rather the wind did. It blew the door closed and trapped us. Now would you mind helping me undo it?”

  There was a whispered discussion on the other side.

  “Miss Annie?”

  “Yes, Ben?”

  “If you’ll push the knob in from your end, we’ll see if we can’t put the one out here in from this end. If that doesn’t work, though, I’ll have to get some tools out of my truck.” He cleared his throat. “It...ah...might take a while.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Sam insisted. “We can keep ourselves busy, no problem.”

  “I’m fine, Ben,” Annie hastened to say. “We’re both fine.”

  Sam winked at her. “Just enjoying each other’s company.”