Shotgun Bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  His Beaumont grin was back in place. “True enough, since at least one of us was buck naked.”

  “If you dare tell anyone—”

  “Have we arrived at an inopportune moment?” an amused voice asked from the doorway.

  Annie jerked around, hot color washing into her cheeks. “Pansy! How long have you been there?”

  “Bertie and I just arrived.” She gave her husband a swift elbow. “Didn’t we, sweetie?”

  “Sure did,” he lied gallantly, ducking to fit his sixfoot-five-inch frame beneath the doorway. “Hey, Annie. Beaumont.”

  Sam inclined his head. “Hinkle. Belated congratulations on your marriage. And I understand your family’s expanding?”

  Pansy patted her swollen stomach in satisfaction. “Number two’s due any time now. And before I forget, I expect you to stop by and meet number one, Sam, just as soon as you’re situated. Right now, the bruiser’s busy driving Grandma Rosie insane, so you can be grateful I’m sparing you his antics.”

  “Momma doesn’t mind,” Bertie protested. “She’s crazy about the little fella.”

  Pansy chuckled. “Little? That kid would do a firstgrader proud. Unfortunately, he’s got a temper to match his size.” She slanted her husband a teasing glance. “Comes by it naturally is my guess.”

  Bertie turned a dull red. “That was a long time ago. I haven’t lost my temper in ages.”

  “True enough. It must be...oh, a whole week since you cussed out that poor, innocent lawn mower.” Pansy turned her twinkling gaze on Annie. “Interesting getup. Something you want to tell us about?”

  Oh, shoot. “I...I was just getting a cup of coffee before I dressed.”

  Pansy winked. “Got it. Well, we won’t tattle. Right, Bertie?”

  Bertie didn’t look nearly as tattleproof. But another elbow to the ribs brought him around. “Sure thing, honey.”

  Annie resorted to schoolteacher mode. Lifting her chin, she shot her relatives her most intimidating look, which proved something of a challenge when dressed in a skimpy nightie and robe. “I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting company. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go change.”

  “You forget,” Pansy pointed out, “we’re not company. Family’s allowed to drop by uninvited and poke their noses where they don’t belong any time they get the notion.” She waved Annie off and crossed to the refrigerator. “I don’t suppose Myrtle’s been doing any baking?”

  Her question didn’t require an answer. Pansy could root out every sweet in the house without any help from big sister. Pregnancy had given her an extra sense in that regard. Hastening to her bedroom, Annie closed the door and swiftly stripped. Normally, she’d have hopped in the shower, but this morning she didn’t dare. Heaven only knew what trouble would brew downstairs in the few extra minutes it would take to duck under the spray. Just taking the time to pluck a dress from the closet and toss it over her head would give Pansy plenty enough opportunity to run her mouth.

  “...Pops was sure you were going to work your way right through all three Delacorte girls,” Pansy was busily telling Sam as Annie tripped down the stairs to the kitchen. Apparently, pregnancy had done far more than play havoc with her sister’s taste buds. It had also completely eradicated all sense of propriety. There was no other explanation. “I can’t imagine why he thought that when he knew how I felt about Bertie.”

  “Pansy! I’m sure Pops thought no such thing.” Annie glanced at Sam in concern. Propriety be hanged and clothes be damned. She never should have left him alone with Pansy.

  He didn’t show any expression other than a faint amusement. But she knew him well enough to see the signs he usually managed to keep hidden from others— signs that warned he wasn’t taking Pansy’s comments nearly as equably as he let on. Sister dear had clearly hit a nerve. Sam held his coffee mug in a white-knuckled grip and his eyes, though half-concealed by his lashes, were stormy. Even his posture spoke of someone on the edge of explosive action. Annie silently groaned.

  Sam’s relationship with her father had been hostile in the extreme. Delacortes didn’t associate with Beaumonts, Pops had explained on more than one occasion. But worse, Sam’s mother had been illegitimate, and the blemish to his birthright had been thrown in his face with annoying regularity, usually resulting in a fierce brawl—a brawl Sam invariably won. In fact, it had been one of the main reasons he’d never allowed his desire for her to get out of hand. He’d told her repeatedly that he’d never father a bastard child and the only way to make sure of it was through abstinence. When she became pregnant with his baby, they’d be legally wed. The knowledge of all she’d lost haunted her to this day, for they’d never marry and she’d never bear his children. She couldn’t.

  Shooting Pansy a quelling glance, Annie crossed to Sam’s side and peeled the mug from his hand. “Let me freshen that for you,” she murmured, skating a hand around his waist and rubbing his back reassuringly. Her position blocked her actions from the others—not that she cared if they saw. She was too angry to care. For Sam’s sake, though, she didn’t want anyone to realize how deeply Pansy’s words had wounded.

  Imperceptibly, he relaxed. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

  Annie shot a quick look toward Bertie to see if he’d picked up on Sam’s grating tone. Apparently, he had. For such a big lug, he could be amazingly sensitive when he chose. “Let’s go, Pansy.”

  His wife blinked in surprise. “Why? We just got here.”

  “You’ve inflicted yourself on Annie and Sam long enough.” He held out his hand. “Beaumont. Glad to have you back on the island.”

  “Thanks, Bertie.” Sam took the proffered hand. “It’s nice to be back.”

  “Hope you’ll stick around. We could use all the financial geniuses we can get hold of.”

  “I always planned to come home. I was just waiting for the right time.”

  Bertie nodded. “No time like the present, as they say.” With that, he wrapped an arm around his protesting wife and swept her out the door.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Annie murmured. “It’s not true, you know.”

  “What’s not true?”

  “The part about Pops. He never thought you were interested in Pansy or Trish. Heck, Trish was still a kid when you...” She took a deep breath. Time to end the lies. Time to face what she’d done and own up to it. “When I had you thrown off the island.”

  He lifted his mug in acknowledgment of her admission. “Pansy thinks it’s true. She must have gotten that impression from somewhere.”

  “She’s just confused. Maybe it’s all those hormones running riot. I remember during her last pregnancy she got it in her head that Bertie was going to leave her. She cried for six months straight. Nothing anyone said could convince her otherwise.”

  Sam’s mood lightened somewhat. “I gather he didn’t leave?”

  “As if! The man’s flat-out crazy about her.” She grimaced. “He’d have to be to put up with all those tears. I know I’d have been tempted beyond endurance to give her a good smack.”

  “Saint Annie strikes again?”

  She chuckled. “There are times when Pansy can try the patience of a saint. That was one of them.”

  “So.” He set his mug on the counter and faced her. “When do we start planning our wedding?”

  Her mug slammed onto the counter beside his. “Excuse me?”

  “You realize we may not have any choice if the hens get wind of last night’s escapade.” He checked his watch. “How long do you think it’ll be before Bertie or Pansy spill the beans?”

  “They won’t say anything,” Annie insisted confidently.

  “You sure?”

  “Bertie has a strong sense of honor. Once he thinks about it for a spell, he’ll make sure Pansy keeps quiet It may look like my dear sister rules the roost, but when he puts his foot down, no one argues. Not even Rolly.”

  That caught Sam’s attention. “Now that I’d like to see.”

  “Stick around and you might.” Wh
ich reminded her. “Were you serious about what you told Bertie? Are you really planning to stay?”

  “Dead serious.” She’d piled her hair on top of her head when she’d dressed and he plucked at the clip anchoring it there, grinning devilishly as her curls tumbled around her shoulders. “It’ll give me plenty of time to take care of business. A whole lifetime, if necessary.”

  She swept her hair from her face. “Keep that up and I’ll cut it off.”

  His amusement died. “Don’t. It’s too pretty to cut.”

  Was that why she never had? Because Sam liked it long? When they’d started dating, he’d touch it cautiously, as though ready to pull back at the first sign she’d taken offense. Later, he’d gather it in his hands, twining the strands in his fingers. As a boy, he’d once explained, his mother had told him that an island woman who was part fairy had spun Annie’s hair from straw into gold. For years he’d believed the fanciful tale. Finally, on her sixth birthday, he’d gotten up the nerve to find out for himself.

  And though he’d discovered that day that her hair wasn’t made from gold, he didn’t mind. He still thought it was the prettiest color he’d ever seen. And, as he’d told her on more than one occasion, much softer than real gold would have been.

  “So what now?” Annie asked cautiously. “You said you came back for Myrtle’s sake, because she was worried about me. Personally, I think it was for revenge. Now you’ve told Pansy and Bertie you’re going to stick around for a while.”

  “Not for a while. Permanently.”

  She nodded, accepting that she’d have a full measure of heartache to deal with over the coming months. Seeing Sam on a regular basis and watching as he integrated into island life would be difficult enough. But coming across him unexpectedly at Drake’s Supermarket or at a local ball game, arriving home at Myrtle’s and finding him sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of tea steaming in front of him... How would she bear it? Having, but not having.

  “That still doesn’t answer my question,” she finally said.

  “You mean...what am I going to do about you?”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “Yes.”

  His grin reappeared. “Why, I continue to try and compromise you, of course.”

  “I’m serious,” she snapped.

  “So am L” He straightened. “Since Bertie and Pansy can’t be counted on to do my dirty work for me, I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” He released a gusty sigh. “So much to do and so little time. Where are you headed today? If I’m going to get in a full measure of retribution, I’ll have to know your plans.”

  “You are free to go where you want. I have a job to get to.”

  “Really? I thought teachers were off for the summer.”

  “I tutor high school students every July. Or rather, I do as soon as I can round them up.”

  “Round them up? Interesting. And where, Miss Bo-Peep, will you find your poor lost sheep?”

  “This time of year?” She regarded him in amusement. “Are you kidding?”

  “Ahh. The beach. How about if I lend a hand?”

  “No, thanks. I can take care of it all by my lonesome.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  She didn’t give him an opportunity to argue. Scooping up the keys to her...his motorcycle, she escaped out the door. Her growling stomach reminded her that she’d only breakfasted on a cup of coffee, which was far from sufficient. Too bad. She didn’t dare return to the kitchen and face Sam again. He’d gotten too close today, slipped past barriers that were surprisingly shaky. After so many years they should have been more solid. She’d have to see what she could do about that.

  Buzzing through town—and exceeding the speed limit out of sheer defiance—she wound her way toward the one small harbor Delacorte Island boasted. She kept a small outboard, Lulubelle, tied up there, a boat her grandmother had given her on her sixteenth birthday. The mornings she was supposed to tutor, she’d take Lrlubelle out to a small deserted island south of Delacorte, appropriately nicknamed Point Doom. It was little more than an overgrown sandbar and during low tide people could actually wade to it. Surfers, in particular, liked how the waves broke there. Without a doubt, it was where she’d find her delinquent students.

  Climbing aboard Lulubedde, she lowered the outboard engine into the water. It only took two yanks of the starter rope before the engine fired.

  “Here, let me,” Sam offered, appearing unexpectedly above her. He tossed off the lines that secured her to the dock and jumped on board. “Well?” he asked with an easy grin. “What are you waiting for?”

  You, she almost admitted. Instead, she indulged in a single fierce frown, hoping it would disguise her exhilaration. “Sit down before you capsize us,” she ordered. As soon as he’d settled himself in the bow, she grabbed the throttle arm and steered them sedately out of the harbor and toward the cut that connected the sound to the ocean.

  “You know I almost lost you going through town,” Sam commented.

  “There’s only one main road. I’d think that would make me a little hard to lose.”

  “Myrtle wasn’t kidding. You really are reckless when you ride my bike. Keep it up and I’m going to take my keys back.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue. “So where are we going?”

  “Point Doom.”

  Sam shook his head. “They won’t be there.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s high tide and the wind’s out of the northeast. They’ll be on the north shore. The action’s better there today.”

  “We’ll see.” Ten minutes later, wrestling the craft through surprisingly choppy seas, Annie realized Sam was right. Point Doom was completely deserted, its connection to Delacorte severed by the swift currents of an incoming tide. “Guess we’d better head in. The surf’s too rough for poor Lulubelle. That hurricane stalled off the Florida coast must be kicking up the waves.”

  “It’s too pretty a day to go back. Why don’t you take us into the sound and circle around to Myrtle’s. It’ll be smoother there.”

  “I don’t have the time. I have lessons to give, remember?”

  “I’m sure your students won’t object to a couple hours’ delay.”

  “They might not, but—” The engine gave a little sputter before catching again. “Uh-oh.”

  Sam’s gaze sharpened. “You low on gas?”

  “I just filled it yesterday.”

  “Where’s your spare gas can?”

  “I...ah...don’t have it with me.” A cardinal sin, if ever there was one.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I just filled the tank yesterday.” The engine sputtered again, giving lie to her claim.

  “You’re always supposed to carry spare gas.” He looked around. “Where are the oars?”

  Another sin she’d have to confess. “I loaned them to Pansy.”

  “Dammit, Annie! Steer toward the point. Maybe there’s enough gas left to get us there.”

  There wasn’t. They stalled several hundred feet shy of their destination. The current caught the small boat, pushing it away from the island. Breakers slapped the hull, threatening to swamp them.

  “We’ll have to swim for it,” Sam said.

  “No,” Annie protested. “I’m not leaving Lulubelle to fend for herself! She might swallow too much water and drown.”

  “I wasn’t planning on abandoning her.” Without another word, he kicked off his sneakers, yanked his shirt over his head and executed a quick dive into the water. “Toss me the bowline,” he requested as soon as he surfaced.

  She threw it to him and slipped off her sandals, as well. “Hang on. I’ll be right there.”

  “Stay in the boat.”

  “Sam, you can’t tow us by yourself. It’s too far and the current’s too strong.” She didn’t bother arguing. With the ease of long habit, she dived into the ocean, bobbing up just in time to get smacked by an incoming wave. She choked on the briny water.


  Sam grabbed her arm and held her up. “You’re not going to do Lulubelle much good if I have to let go of her to rescue you.”

  “I don’t need rescuing!”

  “Honey, I’ve never met anyone more in need of rescuing than you. Now if you plan to help, grab the rope with me and let’s start kicking.”

  It took a full forty minutes of hard swimming to reach the narrow islet. The high tide had almost covered it, leaving little more than a hump of sand sticking out of the water. Waves broke over the top, threatening to sweep Annie’s feet out from under her. Panting, her arms and legs feeling more like rubber than bone and muscle, she helped Sam run the boat aground. Then she flopped down on the sand next to him.

  “Now what do we do?” she asked.

  “Looks like we only have one option.”

  “Wait for someone to come along and rescue us?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not swimming back to the island.” She slanted him a warning look. “And neither are you.”

  “Wasn’t planning on swimming back.”

  Exhaustion made her cranky. “Exactly what were you planning?”

  He fixed her with a gimlet stare. “Just as soon as I catch my breath, I plan to ruin the hell out of you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SAM waited, curious to see Annie’s reaction to his statement. For a long moment, she simply stared at him, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and hunger. She looked like a beached mermaid confronted by a lusty pirate. Her hair, as rich a gold as Spanish doubloons, tumbled down her back and shoulders, the tangle of wet strands binding her arms to her sides in ropes of silk. The skirt of her peach-colored dress swirled about her thighs as another breaker raced up the hump of sand to foam around them. He liked her in cotton, especially after a good soaking. The semitransparent material clung, offering him a glimpse of paradise.

  “You can’t ruin me,” she finally said. “Someone might see.”

  He nodded solemnly. “People are supposed to see, sweetheart. Or at least find out. That’s sort of the point of a good ruination.”

  “But you can’t,” she protested.

  A smile played across his mouth. “And why not?”