Shotgun Bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  He chuckled, the sound a low rumble. “Why then I’d have to check out your bathing suit. See what parts are lace and what parts are cotton. Since it’s so dark, I might have to feel my way around. If I still couldn’t get a good sense of what’s what, I’d be forced to slip that bathing suit clean off you.”

  Oh, dear heaven! “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head, her heart pounding wildly. “Absolutely not.”

  “In that case, I guess I’d be reduced to pulling a few things down. Or if I’m feeling real ambitious, pushing a few things up. Whatever it takes to get them out of the way. I’ll probably even toss any excess overboard. Like your hair holder.”

  “It’s called a clasp.” Her breathing grew constricted. “I’d rather you didn’t do that. The throwing-over part, I mean. I’d pretty much like everything to stay right where it is.”

  “Ah, but that would defeat the purpose.”

  It wasn’t difficult to read between the lines. It would be tough to make love to a girl with her clothes on. “What if...what if I tried to stop you? What if I got nervous?” Or scared.

  “Are you nervous when I kiss you?”

  “No,” she confessed. Nor was she scared.

  His lips caressed her temple, exciting a shiver. “Were you nervous last time I unbuttoned your dress?”

  “Not really.” Not until the Three Musketeers showed up. And even then, she’d been more embarrassed than nervous.

  “You won’t be nervous this time, either.”

  “But unbuttoning...that’s all you’re going to do?”

  “Well... not quite.” He waited a beat before adding, “I believe I mentioned that I’m a tactile sort. I like to feel my way through a predicament.”

  “You’re going to touch me, aren’t you?”

  “For certain.”

  He rolled onto his side, facing her, and she braced herself for impact. When it didn’t come, she relaxed minutely. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “If it would make you more comfortable, once I’m done examining that bathing suit of yours, I’ll start at your feet and work my way up.”

  Feet. That was good. Feet were a good distance from other, more intimate spots. “I’d probably need you to give them lots of attention.”

  “I wouldn’t want all the other parts to miss out on the action.”

  “No problem. My feet work harder than any other part. They deserve only the best.”

  “Fair enough. Once I’m finished there—”

  “It’ll be morning.”

  She sensed his grin. “Not quite. We’ll still have a couple of hours to spare. Plenty of time for the rest of what I have in mind.”

  “Rest?”

  “Like your calves. Of course, calves lead right up to knees. And once you’re at the knees, it’s just a short slide to your thighs.” He paused, allowing her imagination to run riot. “After that, we’ll take a minute for some of that pushing up and pulling down.”

  Her skirt and her underpants. Warmth pooled deep in her loins. “Please, Sam. You have to stop.”

  “You won’t stop me, Annie.” His mouth was inches from her ear, his words whisper soft. “Because it’ll be what you want, too. You’ll want me to touch you, want to feel my hands on you, stroking you where no one has before. Clothes will be a barrier, a barrier you’ll be only too happy to be rid of.”

  “No.” Was that heavy, velvety voice hers...a voice that vibrated with passionate longing? “I can’t.”

  “You will. When I touch you, you’ll open to me. Offer yourself to me. Weep for me. Sheathe me. And I’ll complete you. Love you. Take you to a place that’s uniquely ours.”

  “Why, Sam? Why me?”

  “Because you’re ready, Annie. It’s your time.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “With any luck at all, when tomorrow comes, we’ll do it all again. Do you trust me?”

  She shouldn’t. Nevertheless, she did. “I trust you.” She hesitated before admitting, “I won’t stop you. Somehow I suspect you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. But you needed to know it, too. Now, close your eyes.” The minute she had, he spooned her against him. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, his chest warming her back, his shoulder still pillowing her head. “Sleep now, sweetheart. There’ll be plenty of time to ruin you in the morning.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “You’ll see. By morning, there won’t be any question that you’re mine.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE wind had picked up by morning, the air balmy and thick with the scent of rain. It whipped through the cracks in the wall and moved the dust in miniature whirlwinds. Sam stirred and sat up.

  “What are you doing?” Annie asked drowsily.

  “Taking off my shirt.”

  He settled down beside her again, rolling her onto her back and pulling her close. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

  She yawned, struggling to separate sweet dreams from an even sweeter reality. “Time for what?”

  “For this.”

  He lowered himself gently on top of her. The instant full awareness dawned, her lips parted eagerly, welcoming his possession. His mouth found hers, hard where she was soft, skilled where she still had a lot of catching up to do. She felt him fumbling with the front of her dress, one hand slipping buttons through holes, while the other cupped her breast through the white cotton dress.

  “I just remembered. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore,” she managed to say. “When we were on the sandbar, remember? You said you’d wait a week.”

  “I lied.” He peeled back the edges of her dress, finding the scrap of lace and cotton beneath, just as she’d described. “Though it wasn’t much of a lie since our week’ll be up in a few hours. Besides, last night I told you I planned to do precisely this.” He trailed a finger along the edge of her “bathing suit” top. “And more. I don’t recall your complaining then.”

  “It must have escaped my mind.” Her eyes fluttered shut as though by not looking, nothing untoward could happen. “Just out of curiosity...why didn’t you do anything last night?”

  “I had an excellent reason at the time.”

  “Which was?”

  “Damned if I can recall.”

  His hand drifted to her legs and he inched the skirt of her dress toward her knees. The air escaped her lungs in a heated rush. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” she protested nervously. “Somebody might come.”

  “I know. Relax, love. It’ll be over soon.”

  “Over soon? Wait a minute! What happened to pulling up and pushing down? What happened to leg massages? And going to places no one has gone to before? If you think you can just toss my dress over my head and—”

  He dammed the flood of words with his mouth, his kiss a tender, almost apologetic caress, filled with frightening finality. “I’m sorry, Annie. It’s out of my hands now.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” That’s when she heard it. Heard the angry voices and the stomp of feet. “Oh, no!” She struggled to free herself from his arms, to escape the nest he’d made in the bottom of the dry-docked boat.

  “Annie, stop it! You’re going to tip us—”

  With a loud groan of aging timbers, the boat shifted. Annie shrieked as she tumbled sideways, instantly buried beneath dusty burlap and one large male body. Sam was shaking, she realized a confused second later. And then it hit her. He was laughing. Before she could do more than give his shoulder a good pummeling, the door to the boathouse crashed inward.

  “Annie! Annie, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Bertie. But could you—”

  “She’s here!” the deputy shouted to those behind him. “And so’s Sam. He’s finally done it, boys. He’s compromised Annie. Get the preacher. There’s gonna be a wedding!”

  “No! No! Nothing happened, I swear. All we did was talk about what we’d do. We didn
’t actually...” She fought to free herself of burlap, dust and Sam’s wandering hands. “Stop that,” she ordered in a furious whisper. “You’re doing it on purpose. They’re going to think we’ve been up to something if you don’t cut it out.”

  “We have been up to something.”

  “But not that.”

  “We could have been.”

  “Just let me—”

  Abruptly, Sam’s weight lifted from her and she heard a soft thud, followed by a softer grunt. She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the boathouse, momentarily blinded by the sun. She blinked rapidly, realizing that Sam had disappeared into a ring of men. It didn’t take a lot of thought to figure out what they were doing to him.

  She ripped into the center of the circle. “Leave him alone. He hasn’t done anything.”

  Bertie, who was busily pulling a pile of men off Sam, gaped at her, then turned a bright shade of red. “Annie, you might want to...” He gestured to the front of her dress.

  She looked down and gasped, yanking the halves of her dress together. Not that it was much better closed. A dusty handprint marred the virginal white bodice. “I swear, nothing happened.”

  Sam released a pained laugh and struggled to his feet. “You’re never going to convince them of that,” he said, brushing off his clothes. “Not looking like you do. And not after spending a night in the boathouse with me.”

  She knew how it must appear. Her hair slid down her back in a hopeless tangle, the brisk wind adding to its unruly state. Her lips felt swollen from this morning’s kisses, and no doubt looked it, too. Her dress was wrinkled and smudged. She glanced downward. And it gaped as widely as the mouths of the people surrounding them.

  Reverend Pulcher arrived just then. “Oh, Annie,” he said with a disappointed sigh. “Now you’ll have to take down your sign.”

  “You can marry them, though, can’t you, Reverend?” Bertie asked anxiously. “Today?”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Annie insisted.

  Six shotguns lifted to level on Sam. “I believe it is,” he contradicted ever so gently. “I suspect it’s either that or a funeral. I’m pulling for a wedding if you don’t have any serious objections.”

  “But nothing happened!”

  Rolly regarded her with a skeptical frown. “Do you mean to tell me you two didn’t do anything but sit and talk all night?”

  “We slept,” Annie replied.

  “And kissed,” Sam offered helpfully.

  “But that’s all!”

  “Well...not quite.” The Beaumont smile was back in place as cocky as ever. “But being a gentleman, I don’t think it’s appropriate to go into details.”

  “Oh! This is ridiculous.”

  Mayor Pike shook his head. “Give it up, girl. We let you off the hook last time. But that dress of yours is all the proof we need that there were monkeyshines going on last night. If this were a courtroom, you’d be tried, convicted and hanged on that bit of evidence alone. Ben, go round up my clerk,” he instructed. “I’ll need to get their license taken care of so the preacher here can marry them.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone!” Not that they listened. Bertie dragged her off to one side.

  “Button up your dress, Annie. This is all for the best and you know it. You’ve been wanting to marry Sam Beaumont since you were four years old. And think of all the good it’ll do the town. Now that he’s ruined you, he doesn’t have to ruin anyone else.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a comb. “Like to fix your hair?”

  She worked at the buttons of her dress. “No, I wouldn’t like to fix my hair.”

  “To be honest, Annie, it’s a bit of a mess. I think you want to.”

  She swatted his hand away. “Why is it that everyone’s so darned busy telling me what I should and shouldn’t do?”

  Bertie shrugged. “You’ve been doing it all these years. I guess it’s our turn now.”

  “I want to go home. Come on, Bertie,” she wheedled. “Be a pal. Get me out of this.”

  “I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until after the ceremony.”

  “You don’t understand. I want to go now.” She gave him her fiercest frown. But for the first time in all the years she’d known him, it didn’t work.

  “I’m sorry, Annie. Rolly said that if the worst had happened, I was to escort you to the church personally. And that’s what I aim to do.”

  “You’re not going to let me change first?” she asked, outraged.

  “You look just fine.” As a lie, it was a pretty pathetic one and they both knew it.

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll go to the church with you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry anyone.”

  “I don’t see that you have much choice.” He slanted her an apologetic look. “Being a Delacorte and all, folks will expect you to do the proper thing. Especially you, Annie.”

  And that said it all. The purple hair, the motorcycle and dresses, the belly scar, that darned sign... None of it mattered. To the islanders, she was still a Delacorte and that meant death before dishonor. Of course, she could always stand up and tell them the truth. Tell them why it didn’t matter. But that option wasn’t available to her. Her only choice was to refuse to marry Sam. And when she did that, she’d end up humiliating him in public all over again.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have any choice.

  To Annie’s silent fury, she wasn’t given time to refuse anything. A marriage application was brought into the tiny room where she’d been ensconced. Someone had already filled in the pertinent details—Pansy, if the handwriting was anything to go by. All that remained for her to do was sign the document. With Rolly, Ben and Mayor Pike standing over her, scowling like a trio of outraged fathers, she found herself hastily scrawling her signature on the appropriate line. The mayor handed the document to his clerk and ordered her to notarize, witness, stamp and “clerkify” whatever else was necessary to make it legal. Then the group bustled back out, leaving her alone to contemplate the error of her ways.

  Of course, the only error she could come up with was not having enjoyed the transgression she’d been accused of. Maybe it would have been some small compensation if she’d had the pleasure in addition to the punishment.

  Five minutes later, Pansy appeared in the doorway, looking rather windblown. “Phew! It sure is blowing out there. I wonder if we’re going to get a piece of that hurricane after all.” Noting Annie’s expression, she offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s time, sweetie.”

  Annie folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not doing it.”

  “Sure you are. Bertie said so.” As if that ended the discussion, she bellied her way in and handed Annie a large, square box as well as a small bouquet of flowers tied with a sunny yellow ribbon. “The veil I wore when I got married is in the box,” Pansy explained. “Myrtle added some fresh flowers so it would look pretty.”

  “That was fast work.”

  “Yes, well... we figured it was only a matter of time before Sam managed to compromise you and you had to get married. So we had everything lined up.”

  Annie stared at her sister in disbelief. “You’ve been expecting this?”

  “Of course! Goodness, haven’t you heard? They have a pool goin’ down at Drake’s. Everyone’s taking bets on the day and hour Sam would be marched up the aisle with the business end of a shotgun at his back. Listen, if you’d delay the ceremony just another half hour, I’d really appreciate it. The hens bet on nine-thirty today. But I’ve got ten dollars riding on ten o’clock.”

  “I don’t believe it!”

  “You better. I never joke about money.” Pansy opened the box and removed the garland and veil. She set it on Annie’s head, then frowned. “It might look better once you’ve had a good brushing. And darn it all, I didn’t think to bring you a change of clothes. I swear, I don’t know where my head is these days.”

  “I don’t want a brush or a change of clothes. Pansy, I want to go home.”

  “I guess
you should have thought about that before you and Sam did it in the boathouse for the world to see.”

  It took all Annie’s willpower to keep from screaming. “We didn’t do it. We just talked about it.”

  “A waste of words, if you ask me.” Pansy grinned. “And here I always thought Sam was a man of action. How disappointing.”

  He is, Annie almost said before thinking better of it. “Sam will put a stop to this.”

  “I really don’t think so.”

  “Why not? He can’t want to marry me. He was after revenge, not matrimony.”

  “Now that’s something you’ll have to take up with him. But I suspect he’s not going to do much arguing with all those shotguns aimed his way.” Pansy gave her a final once-over, then nodded. “Well, you’re not the cleanest bride I’ve ever seen, but you surely are the prettiest.”

  “Pansy—”

  “Not another word. Now give me a hug and kiss and go get your man. He’s waited a long time for this moment.”

  “You sound like Myrtle.”

  “Why, thank you, sister dear. That’s a sweet thing to say.” Pansy gave her a fierce hug despite her swollen belly. “I’ll tell everyone you’re on your way out.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. The church is packed. No one’s going to miss the wedding of the town saint.” And with that, she disappeared out the door.

  For a full minute, Annie considered climbing out a window and hiding until everyone got bored and went home. Then she realized the tiny room didn’t boast a window, which meant that she’d have to escape in full view of the entire town. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the door and yanked it open. It hit the wall with a crash that reverberated throughout the chapel. Pansy hadn’t been kidding. The church was jammed with friends and neighbors and relatives. Every last one of them stared at her—not with condemnation as she’d half expected—but with encouraging nods and cheerful smiles. How long would that last?

  Reluctantly, she started up the aisle, stumbling to a halt before she’d gone little more than halfway. This was insane. Why was she even here? Just because she’d spent the night in the boathouse with Sam Beaumont did not mean she had to marry the man. Every single other individual in this town had done far worse and they hadn’t been shoved up the aisle at gunpoint. If that had been the case, Sam’s mother wouldn’t have been illegitimate.