Shotgun Bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  “Whatcha waiting for, Annie?” Rosie Hinkle called.

  “I’m thinking,” she shouted.

  “Think after the ceremony,” Sam replied from his stance near the altar. “Come on up here and let’s get this over with.”

  “Gee, how romantic.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I don’t want to?”

  Releasing a sound of disgust, Sam stalked down the aisle toward her. “Would you rather they blow a hole through me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Nice.” He caught her hand in his and began to tow her up the aisle. Muffled laughter broke out among the townsfolk. “Come on, Annie. We’re getting married and that’s all there is to it.”

  She threw her weight backward and dug in her heels, twisting her veil askew. “I’m not going anywhere,” she announced. “Not until I’m good and ready.”

  He released her so abruptly she stumbled, dropping her bouquet. She landed on her backside, her skirts swirling around her thighs and flowers scattering in a colorful circle around her. She yanked down her dress and glared at her dirty toes. Who’d have thought she, Saint Annie, would end up having a shotgun marriage? Sam reached down and helped her up.

  “I don’t want to do this,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be forced into a marriage that neither of us needs just for the sake of propriety.”

  “What about for Rolly’s sake? And Ben Drake’s? And Mayor Pike’s? Marrying me will save them, Annie. I’ll even agree to end my vendetta. I’ll let whichever one of them attacked me off the hook.”

  “You couldn’t hurt them any more than you could me.”

  A look swept into his face, a look so cold and ruthless it took her breath away. “You don’t think so? Try me.”

  “What will you do if I refuse?” she demanded.

  “I think you can guess.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down. “You’ll regret it, I can promise you that much.”

  He had such a knack for infuriating, for succeeding in getting her to do the exact opposite of what common sense dictated. This time, she wouldn’t let him get away with it. This time, she’d be smart. “Then I’ll regret it,” she announced, turning on her bare little heel.

  With an exclamation of disgust, he snagged her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. “If you want to say no, you can say it to Reverend P. But I’m not going to be on the wrong end of a dozen shotguns because of you.” He strode down the aisle amid laughter and cheers.

  He dumped her on her feet in front of the altar and she fought to gather the remaining shreds of her dignity. “You’ve gone too far, Beaumont.” She tugged at her dress, attempting to shake it into some semblance of order. It was only then that she realized she’d buttoned her bodice crookedly. Giving it up as a lost cause, she swiveled to face the congregation. “You’re not really going to allow this to continue, are you?”

  “Sure am!” Rosie called out. “You were always the one who said we had a duty to set a good example for the young’uns. After spending the night with Sam Beaumont, marrying him is the only proper thing to do.”

  She tried one last time. “But we didn’t do anything. I’m still the last-well, you know. That ‘v’ word.”

  “I beg to differ,” Rosie retorted indignantly. “My sweet Alice is a good girl, too.”

  “Not according to my boy Pete,” the mayor snapped back.

  A flush mottled Rosie’s face. “What?” She spun to confront her daughter. “You said the car ran out of gas. You said nothing happened.”

  “But, Momma, we’re in love,” Alice wailed. “We were going to tell you just as soon as Pete got a job. We want to get married.”

  “You march yourself home right this minute, young lady. And Mayor Pike, I expect to see you and Pete at our house this evening to discuss the situation.”

  “You want to start any more trouble?” Sam asked in an undertone. “Or shall we get this show on the road?”

  Tears sparked in her eyes, infuriating her. “There’s no reason for us to get married. We didn’t do anything.”

  His gaze smoldered. “We will.”

  She had to tell him. Now. Before she lost her nerve. “Sam, there’s something you need to know first.”

  “No, there’s not.”

  “You’re wrong.” She glanced uneasily at Reverend Pulcher. “Could you give. us just a moment.”

  “You had plenty of moments last night, Annie.”

  “I realize that. And...and I should have mentioned it to Sam when I had the chance.” She returned her attention to the man standing rigidly at her side and placed a hand on his arm. “Please. It won’t take long.”

  For an instant, she thought he’d refuse. Then he nodded to the preacher and pulled her off to one side. “Spill it. Quick.”

  “Pops left a letter before he died.”

  “So?”

  Annie gripped her hands together, fighting to keep from wringing them. “He gave it to his lawyer. And his lawyer’s supposed to give it to my fiancé in the event I ever became engaged.” She peeked up at him. “We sort of skipped that step, didn’t we?” Her attempt at humor failed miserably.

  “What’s in the letter?”

  “I don’t know.” But she could certainly guess. “When you read it, you won’t want to marry me anymore. I expect the lawyer will show up as soon as he hears we got married. And I expect he’ll give that letter to you despite your being my husband instead of a measly old fiancé.”

  “There’s nothing your father could say that would keep me from making you my wife.”

  There was one thing and it had haunted her for seven long years. “Darn it, Sam,” she said in a fierce undertone, “I don’t want to marry you only to get divorced the next day.”

  “There won’t be a divorce.”

  “Sam—”

  “Enough, Annie. We’re getting married and that’s all there is to it.”

  She dashed tears from her cheeks. “Fine! Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He tipped her chin upward. “You warned me. I understand I’m about to marry a woman with a purple stripe, who rides a motorcycle like some sort of daredevil, who has a belly scar and some horrible, deep dark secret. But I’m that wicked Beaumont boy, remember? I can handle a scandalous wife. In fact, it’s expected of me.”

  “It’s not expected of Saint Annie,” she whispered miserably. “If you marry me, you’ll never be respectable.”

  “Ah. Curiouser and curiouser. I look forward to reading that letter. I suspect it’ll answer a lot of questions.”

  Her chin trembled no matter how hard she fought to control it. Why didn’t she just tell him? She could guess what Pops had said. Maybe if she were the only one whose reputation was at stake, she’d tell the world and to hell with what anyone thought. But she couldn’t do that. She was honor bound to keep quiet. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  His expression gentled. “For what?”

  “For hurting you. I never meant to.”

  “I realized that a long time ago. It’s all right, Annie. Everything will work out. You’ll see.” He held out his hand. “Ready?”

  She didn’t argue. What was the point? It wouldn’t change a blessed thing. And in the meantime, she’d have a few precious days as his wife. That would make up for all that followed, wouldn’t it? After all, Bertie was right. She’d wanted to marry Sam for more years than she could remember. Silently, she slipped her hand into his and walked with him to the altar.

  “Everything settled?” Reverend Pulcher asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Annie murmured.

  “You’ve agreed to marry Sam?”

  She nodded, wishing with all her heart that she was dressed in lace and satin instead of coming to Sam a barefoot bride. She wanted to do him proud. Instead, through her own pigheadedness, her hair was a tangle of curls, she wore a smudged dress and no doubt her face was just as dirty, at least the parts that weren’t streaked with tears. Oh, yes. Sam had gotten quite a deal.


  “And you, Samuel? You’re marrying of your own accord?”

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “Absolutely, Reverend.” A ripple of laughter drifted through the congregation and he lowered his arms, wrapping them around Annie. “Actually, my poor bride’s the one who needed convincing. I’ve been scheming to get her up the aisle ever since I was twelve.”

  The day he’d crashed her birthday party, she recalled with a start. He’d sauntered in among the hordes of shrieking girls and stopped in front of her. She’d pretended to be furious with him. While all the other girls had hidden under the table or run for the house, she’d leaped to her feet and glared at him, attempting to stare him down. Some part of her, a part far wiser than her years, had sensed he approved of her gumption. He’d laughed, and in that instant, she’d been lost—lost to a pair of wicked black eyes and a grin that could charm the most hardened heart.

  He’d helped himself to a piece of the cake right off her plate. And then he’d done the most extraordinary thing. He’d leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You and me is gettin married, princess. You see if we don’t.” Pulling back, he’d gently lifted a lock of her hair and run it through his fingers. She’d never forgotten the look on his face, part curiosity and part amazement, as though he’d discovered something quite exceptional.

  Her father had appeared, ripping Sam away from her and knocking him to the ground. She’d darted between the two, giving Sam the opportunity to escape to the beach and the surfboard he’d left there. Within minutes, he’d gained the ocean and was paddling strongly through the waves. She’d watched until he was no more than a dot on the horizon. While her father shooed all the girls out from under the table and from their various hiding places in the house, Annie had sat down and eaten her cake. She’d also decided that she’d never, ever cut her hair. And she never had.

  “And do you, Anna Sarah Delacorte, take this man to be your lawful husband?”

  Annie blinked, suddenly realizing she’d missed most of the wedding service. Sam waited patiently at her side, not letting on by so much as a glance that her hesitation bothered him.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I was just remembering my sixth birthday party.”

  Sam gave her a tender smile. “Funny. I was thinking about that, too.”

  “You promised you’d marry me that day.”

  “And I always keep my promises, don’t I, Annie?”

  “Yes, you do.” She turned to the preacher. “I do. I do take Sam.”

  “Have you rings?”

  “’Fraid not,” Sam admitted. “Wasn’t quite expecting a wedding when I woke up this morning.”

  “Considering what you’d been doing the night before, you sure as heck should have!” Rolly called from the back of the church.

  Myrtle stood. “Well, I have a ring you can have. It’s about time it was used for its intended purpose.” She leaned heavily on her cane as she joined Sam and Annie at the altar. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Annie opened her mouth to argue. But one look into Myrtle’s eyes and the impulse died. “Thank you. I’ll always treasure it.”

  Myrtle handed the ring to Sam. “Be good to her, or I’ll have words with you.”

  “You know I will.”

  She smiled, running a loving hand along Sam’s jaw. “Yes, I do. You always were a good boy.”

  With that, she stepped aside. Sam took Annie’s hand in his and slipped the ring onto her finger. The preacher pronounced his final blessing and Sam gathered her into his arms. The kiss he gave her was a sweet promise, one she returned with all her heart. The instant he released her, they were surrounded by well-wishers. Apparently, now that they were properly wed, all was forgiven.

  She expected to see a hint of annoyance from her new husband. But he surprised her. When Rolly teased him about being a shotgun bridegroom, Sam shook his head. “All you did was force Annie to fulfill her promise. If anything, she’s a shotgun bride.”

  Pansy appeared then, drawing Annie off to one side. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Bertie insisted this was what you wanted—”

  Annie lifted an eyebrow. “How would he know that?”

  “He said it was obvious.”

  “Well, you can tell Bertie—”

  “That he’s absolutely right.” Sam dropped a heavy arm around her shoulders. “Isn’t that what you were going to say, Mrs. Beaumont?”

  Mrs. Beaumont. She shivered. They’d attracted a small crowd, all of whom were waiting to see how she’d answered. She hesitated, aware that several of those in the group were less than sympathetic toward Sam and would be only too happy for his new bride to say something disparaging. “I’ve always wanted to marry Sam,” she said simply.

  The mayor frowned. “Then why didn’t you? Why did you have us...” He broke off, his face growing more ruddy than usual. “You know.”

  “Because I was young and foolish.” And her father had found an effective method of stopping her. One that continued to hang over her head like the Sword of Damocles.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” Sam interjected in a tone that no one could mistake. One that warned: Argue at your own risk. “It’s been resolved, which is all that matters.”

  “The saint and the sinner,” the mayor pronounced with a hearty laugh. “Should make for an interesting marriage, wouldn’t you say?”

  Bertie cut into the circle. “Sorry to break up the wedding, folks. But I just heard. The hurricane’s changed direction. At last report, it’s picked up speed and is headed right for us.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS SOON as news of the hurricane spread, people offered their good wishes and began departing the church. Annie turned to Bertie in concern. “How much time do we have?”

  “Not a lot. Better start boarding up now. We’ll be in the thick of it by sundown.”

  “We weren’t able to hear any updates last night,” she said, struggling to stem the revealing color that blossomed across her cheekbones. “Where is it? Has it strengthened?”

  “The winds are over a hundred, Annie. It’s going to be a bad one. You can already see some of the outer bands of the storm to the south of us.”

  Myrtle joined them, leaning on her bird-of-paradise cane. “I’m going on home, dear. Those nice young boys you’ve been tutoring have volunteered to come over and close up my shutters and make certain the house is watertight.”

  “Where are you going to ride out the storm?” Annie asked in concern. “Maybe you should stay with us at Soundings.”

  Myrtle’s dark eyes held a teasing glint. “Now that would make for an interesting wedding night.”

  “Looks to be an interesting wedding night regardless,” Sam replied dryly. “You know you’re welcome to come home with us.”

  “No need, my boy. Pansy and Bertie have made a similar offer, which I’ve accepted.”

  “But they’re on the ocean,” Annie fussed. “They always get it worse than we do.”

  Myrtle thumped her cane in exasperation. “Heavenly days, Annie Beaumont, you know that old Delacorte place has withstood every hurricane we’ve had these past thirty-some years. Now stop your worrying and let Sam get you home. I’m sure you two have enough to do without adding me to your list of concerns.”

  Annie Beaumont! It felt as odd as it did wonderful to hear her new name. It also felt appropriate, almost like coming home. In a rush of affection, she gently enclosed the older woman in a warm embrace. “I love you,” she whispered. “You’ve been a mother to me all these years and I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I love you, too, dear heart.” Emotion trembled through the older woman. “You know I would have been proud to claim you as my own.”

  “Yes, I know.” Wiping tears from her eyes, Annie released Myrtle and stepped into her husband’s waiting arms. “Take me home, Sam.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He carefully adjusted the veil and circlet of flowers on top of her curls. Then before she knew what he intended, he swept her
into his arms and carried her back down the aisle. Laughing, Annie peered over his shoulder and threw Myrtle a kiss goodbye. Outside, the first bands of rain could be seen marching toward them across a tainted sky. But directly overhead, it was blue and clear, with the sun still warm on their faces.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Beaumont?”

  Annie tensed, recognizing the voice. No! It wasn’t fair. She should have been allowed a few days of marital bliss before it all came to a painful end. Apparently, she wasn’t even to have that. “It’s Pops’s lawyer,” she murmured reluctantly.

  Sam set her down and turned to greet the man. “Come to congratulate me on my nuptials?” he asked.

  “I apologize for the interruption.” The lawyer looked truly sorry, too. “I’ve been instructed by my former client, Joseph Delacorte, to give this envelope to the fiancé of his daughter, Anna Sarah.” He held out a thin white envelope.

  “I’m not her fiancé,” Sam replied mildly. “I’m her husband.”

  “Yes, sir. I appreciate that fact. I’m still to give you this.” He offered the envelope again.

  Sam frowned. “Just out of curiosity...how many of those things do you have stashed away in your office?”

  “Pardon me?”

  Sam gestured toward the envelope. “Letters from Joe. How many do you have? What if a building falls on me and Annie gets herself some brand-new fiancés? Do you have envelopes for all of them, too?”

  “No, sir. I don’t think Mr. Delacorte anticipated that possibility. There’s just this one.”

  “I see.” Sam lifted an eyebrow. “You know what the letter says, lawyer man?”

  “No, sir. It was sealed when given to me.” He held the envelope out for the third time. “Mr. Beaumont, I have a wife and kids at home. With this storm coming, they need me there to help prepare for the worst. As soon as you take this and sign for it, I can be on my way.”