Bride on the Run--A Clean Romance

by Anna J. Stewart

“Duchess, how about a song?”

  “Squawk! Driver picks the tunes. Shotgun sings along!”

  Sienna snorted. “Sing anything.”

  “Anything!” The trill was amazing and made Sienna laugh, which seemed to impress Duchess, who fluffed her feathers and broke out into an all-too-familiar show tune about favorite things. Amused and relieved, Sienna sang back.

  “Squawk.” Duchess clicked her beak as if offended at having a partner. But she continued singing. And so did Sienna as they rode out the storm together.

  * * *

  MONTY CAME TO with the strangest desire to see a Broadway musical.

  It took a good few seconds for the pain to hit, and when it did, he lifted a hand to his head, not surprised when it came away wet and bloodied.

  He righted himself, felt the bulkhead against his back and blinked his eyes open. The dim light of the boat was the only thing he saw. The lapping ocean waves were just about all he heard. Except for the singing. Very distinctive two-voiced singing; one perfectly pitched and the other severely off-key.

  “Sienna, let the bird sing.”

  She gasped and spun around on the captain’s chair. “Monty! You’re awake!”

  “Work it. Work it.”

  “I take that back,” Monty growled. “Duchess, quiet.”

  “Thank goodness.” Sienna abandoned the chair and dropped to her knees next to him, fingers prodding the very sore skin on his forehead. “I didn’t know how I was going to get you into the cabin if I had to. Does it hurt?”

  “Yes.” He caught her searching hands and brought them together. “What happened? How’s the boat?”

  “Boat’s okay. I think. You knocked yourself out trying to get to me. Your foot slipped and blam!” She tried to smack her hands together. “You conked your head on the railing.”

  “Yeah. That I got. You okay?”

  “I’m great!” She beamed at him. “We did it. We rode out the storm. Took a few hours and so Duchess and I covered about thirty years of musicals, but yeah.” She sighed and sank back onto her heels. “We’re okay. Me, Duchess, Dream and now you.” She pulled her hands free and caught his face in her palms. Before he knew it, she pressed her mouth against his.

  The kiss was everything their first one hadn’t been. Quick, searing, surprising. But just as welcome. His hand slipped down to her waist, trying to urge her closer, but she pulled back, shaking her head.

  “We need to get you downstairs so I can get the first aid kit.”

  “Yeah, we’ll do that. Help me up first. I want to check our location.” The rain continued to fall, but the storm wasn’t nearly as tempestuous as it had been. Sienna wedged herself under his arm and together they got him to his feet. It took him a moment to get his bearings, and to stop his stomach from churning. He was going to have a major headache, but Sienna was right about one thing. He was alive. The pain proved it.

  She helped him over to the chair and he dropped into it like a wet sack of sand. He blinked, trying to focus his vision. “I can’t read this.” He tapped the devices on the dashboard. “Read them to me.”

  “Sure.” She read out the numbers and he actually started laughing.

  “We barely lost any distance at all.” He sank back in the chair. “But for now...” Monty dropped the bow anchor and throttled down. Turned off the engine. And welcomed as much silence as he could get. “For now, we all deserve a bit of rest.”

  “Good to know.” Sienna seemed to be holding him upright in the chair. “I’ll get your bed ready. For after. Once we take care of your head, I mean.” Her cheeks went bright pink. “Wait here and I’ll come back to help you down.”

  “Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, only to blink them open almost immediately for fear he’d drift off again. “Duchess?” he asked and looked over to the bird, who was still singing, but no longer at the top of her lungs. “You good?”

  “Pretty bird.”

  “Geez, bird, sing a different tune.” He didn’t have a clue how Sienna could help him down the ladder. Instead, he dragged himself across the wheelhouse and when he reached the hatch, he stopped short, finding her on the ladder returning to him.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped and immediately locked a hand around his. “You were supposed to wait for me.”

  “You were hurt.” He remembered now, the image of her slamming into the side of the boat almost sickening him. “Your shoulder.” He waited until he was down in the cabin before he started probing her shoulder.

  “Stop that. I’m fine. Just bruised.” But she winced and pulled away.

  Before he could protest, she had him sitting at the table. The boat continued to rock under the last vestiges of the storm, but after the past few hours, it felt almost soothing. “You probably won’t need stitches,” Sienna murmured as she wet a cotton ball with alcohol. “This is going to sting.”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “Just get it over with.” His head continued to throb and all he could think about was the bed waiting for him a few feet away. Even with her warning, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, that’s not fun.”

  “I bet.” She moved closer as she pushed up his head gently so she could get more light. He had nowhere to put his hands so he settled for resting them on her hips, a gesture that had her freezing. Then she looked into his eyes, and smiled. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Boat Boy.”

  He almost grinned in response until he realized what she’d called him. “That’s what Frankie calls me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sienna nodded and dabbed more alcohol onto his wound. “She told me. She told me a whole lot of things, actually.”

  “Did she?” He kept his eyes up on her face, mainly because if he looked straight ahead he’d be looking at her... He squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t help. He was still thinking about her...sweatshirt. “You about done there, Calamity Jane?”

  Her hand halted. “You did not just call me a horse.”

  “I’m still working up a nickname for you. After tonight I’m thinking I might have a whole bunch to choose from. Once my brain’s a bit unscrambled. Okay, that’s enough.” He caught her hand. “Bandage me up and call it over.”

  “All right.” She dug out some butterfly bandages and quickly applied them. “You’ll probably want to see a doctor once you get home.”

  He was going to need more than that the way his thoughts were running. There would be nothing less likely, less rational, than for him to fall tail over teakettle for Sienna Fairchild and yet...

  Monty took a deep breath. It seemed that’s exactly what he’d done. Illusion, he told himself. A few days on dry land, a few days in the real world and not this isolated snow globe of misadventure they’d been on, and his feelings would be back on track: the practical, nonridiculous track.

  “All right.” She stepped out of his arms and gathered up her trash. “Go get out of those wet clothes. I’ll fix you tea and bring you pain pills.”

  “Then you’ll let me get some sleep?”

  “Some. I’ll stay nearby to wake you up every few hours.” She tilted up his chin again with her finger. “Just to be safe.”

  “Good times.” He made a stumbling effort to his room. It took longer than expected, longer than his ego approved of, to change into a pair of wonderfully clean and dry sweats. He was already lying down when she knocked on his door. “Yeah.”

  “Here you go. It’s chamomile, so it should help relax you.”

  Monty opened his eyes and found she’d changed, as well, and was wearing an oversized T-shirt and what to him looked like skimpy boxer shorts. She sat on the edge of the bed, held out two pills and handed him the mug.

  “Awesome. Thanks.” He took the pills but nearly choked on the tea. “Gah! Tastes like Calliope’s herb garden.” Monty set the mug on the narrow shelf by his bed.

  Sienna grinned. “The more you say th
ings like that, the more anxious I am to meet this woman. Now.” She poked a finger gently against his forehead and pushed his head back. “Go to sleep.”

  She stood up to go, but he caught her wrist. “Don’t go.”

  “But you need—”

  He looked at her, and even though he knew it was a mistake, he couldn’t release her hand. “Don’t go. Stay. Just...stay.”

  “All right. Just let me clean up a few things—”

  “Now, Sienna.” He scooted over, pulled her down beside him. “Just stay with me. For a little while.”

  He hoped she would. He reveled in being beside her, catching that beautiful fragrance in her hair. “You’ll get cold,” she whispered.

  “Not with you here,” he whispered back. “Not ever with you.” He closed his eyes, at peace, finally, and let sleep take him.

  * * *

  “AND JUST WRAP this around here,” Sienna murmured to herself. “Ow!” She jumped when a spark hit her finger. She quickly finished tying off the electrical tape, then tightened the connection. “Got ya.”

  “Got what?”

  Sienna yelped, jerked back and fell on her butt. She glared up at a bedraggled Monty, who was growing a pretty nasty bruise along his hairline. “Warn a girl, why don’t you.” She raised an eyebrow and he hauled her up. “How’s your head?” The second she was on her feet, she was reaching out to examine his bandage.

  “Still attached to my body. What were you doing?”

  “Double-checking all the connections. I fixed a couple to be safe. A few you’d already taped off, but...” She shrugged. “I figured all that jostling around last night probably knocked a few things loose.”

  He nodded, then squeezed his eyes shut as if the move had been a mistake. “Mind if I check?”

  “Not at all.” She scooted past him and returned to the galley. She was spooning up scrambled eggs and dropped two pieces of toast into the toaster when he joined her. “Did it pass inspection?”

  “Looks great. Thanks. Not sure I’ve got the dexterity I need to do that today.” He dropped into the seat at the table and rested his head in one hand. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Some.” She swallowed hard and did everything she could to prevent the blush creeping up her neck from reaching her face. Truth be told, she hadn’t slept much at all. For the longest time she’d lain there, listening to his breathing, relishing the sensation of being so close to him. She hadn’t thought she could feel more enthralled than when he’d kissed her, but him putting an arm over her waist at one point meant she couldn’t imagine another place she’d rather be.

  “How many times did you wake me up last night?”

  “Four.” She remembered clearly because each time she had, the worry that his head injury was worse faded. By four this morning, she let him sleep through. “Here.” She set the bottle of painkillers in front of him. “You’re due for some more.”

  “Thanks.” He ran his thumb over the back of her fingers. She watched his gaze flicker across her engagement ring, saw his jaw tense the moment before he released her and reached for the bottle. “You impressed me last night. Keeping the boat in one piece.”

  She shrugged, focusing on buttering the toast. “I love her, too. Dream,” she added as if she needed to clarify. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. We don’t have long before we reach Butterfly Harbor.”

  “Getting antsy?”

  “No.” She was surprised to find that she meant it. It hadn’t taken her long to get used to life on a boat; this time on Dream was bringing back so many fond memories of times she’d spent with her grandmother that it felt almost second nature. Then again, it wasn’t just the boat she’d grown accustomed to. “Making a mental note of when I’ll have to leave her.” And you.

  She set the plate in front of him, then sat and watched as he ate. Anxiety of an entirely new kind swirled inside her. It was time to ask. “What happens now?”

  “More of my enjoying this nice breakfast.”

  “I don’t mean with breakfast.” She tried not to tap her fingers on the table. “I mean with...us.”

  He hesitated, but didn’t stop eating.

  “Or do you kiss every stowaway who turns up on your boat?” She really hoped not, even as she wished she hadn’t asked the question. “There’s something going on between us, right? I’m not imagining things?” And, oh, boy had she been imagining things.

  He took another bite of eggs, then set down his fork and wiped his mouth. “You aren’t imagining anything, Sienna. I think it’s safe to say we hold a healthy attraction for one another.”

  “Could you maybe make that sound more analytical? I don’t think my therapist heard you.” Safe to say? What was safe with this conversation?

  “I bet he or she would say you’re deflecting with humor.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Was he playing with her? “Look, I meant that since I’ll be sticking around your little town for a while to help with your sister’s wedding—”

  “Little town? Could you maybe say that with a little less condescension?”

  “I—” She stared at him. What was happening here? What had happened to the affable, playful, fun-to-be-around Monty? Was he picking a fight to deflect from what he was feeling? “Why does it seem as if we’re having two separate conversations?”

  “Probably because we are. Okay...” He was speaking in very calm, determined syllables. “We need to look at this situation realistically. We are two very different people who come from two very different worlds. That can add a spark or ten to an intense situation.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “You’re saying whatever we’re feeling has been the result of close proximity and amplified emotions. That everything registers stronger and more overwhelming because we can’t get away from one another.”

  “See? Not a very different conversation after all.” He got to his feet and set his plate in the sink, keeping hold of his toast.

  “But, wait.” An odd tremor shook her heart. “So there’s nothing to our attraction other than circumstance?” That didn’t make sense. Last night, when she’d slept beside him, everything had seemed so perfect, so right. He’d asked her to stay. There was no misinterpreting that he had feelings for her—she was certain of it. Head injury or not, no man kissed a woman like Monty had kissed her without a true emotional connection. Or at the least, without wanting to.

  “That’s what I’m saying. Besides...” His voice fell flat. It was so unlike Monty, she wondered if he’d woken up as someone else entirely. “You’re not a free woman, Sienna.”

  “What?” She jerked her head up when he faced her. “What are you—? Of course I am! I’m not going to marry Richard.”

  “Tell that to your finger.” He inclined his chin toward her hand. “You’re still wearing his ring. Other than assisting Frankie with her wedding, you haven’t said what your future plans are.”

  “Well, excuse me for not figuring out my future on your timetable,” she snapped and resisted the temptation to try to remove the ring again, this time in his presence. Doing that would only prove his ridiculous theory true and that she was somehow still emotionally attached to Richard.

  “Are you on any timetable?” Monty asked in a frustratingly analytical voice. “Don’t get me wrong, this whole let’s-see-what-happens mentality is a lot of fun, but it isn’t real life. Real life is what we’re sailing into. It’s what’s going to be waiting for you at the dock when there isn’t an ocean around us acting as romantic inspiration. What does reality have in store for you? A job? Travel? Family? A career? Will it include a conversation with your father? Will you give that ring back to Richard in person or at all? What do you want for your life?” He lowered his voice. “Who are you, Sienna?”

  “I don’t...know.” She frowned.

  He peered into her eyes to the point where she couldn’t bring
herself to look back. “Until you do, this is where we are. I’ve got a business to run, Sienna. Bills and employees to pay. As wild as this adventure has been, and as much as I may care about you, important responsibilities are about a few days out. And I can’t afford any more detours.”

  He waited for a moment for her to respond. Then he turned and climbed out on deck.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SIENNA SAT IN stunned silence while Monty finished prepping the boat to resume course, unable to do little more than stare at the ring that had absolutely no chance of bringing her a scintilla of happiness.

  She hated it; the ring itself and everything it represented. The ostentatious emerald was a statement piece. Not for her, but for Richard. His look-how-much-money-I-can-spend-on-my-future-wife declaration. How had she not seen that before?

  She tugged on the band. Just like before, it didn’t budge other than to spin in an endless tease. Telling Monty the stupid thing wouldn’t come off wouldn’t have done any good. It would have sounded like a pathetic excuse and the last thing she wanted to sound like anymore was pathetic.

  Sienna glared down at the emerald, sneering at how it glinted against the light. It wasn’t even her taste! She liked dainty jewelry. Heirloom pieces that carried tradition along with a simple design, not rocks that could be seen from space. She didn’t need loud pronouncements of affection. She needed...

  She took a deep breath, her brow furrowing. She wasn’t sure exactly what she needed; she only knew what she didn’t want.

  He’s right. Sienna folded her hands in her lap and accepted the truth. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she wanted out of life. Nana had taught her to embrace every day as a new possibility; dreams to be chased after, a heart to be filled. It was what Sienna wanted for herself that eluded her. Had always eluded her.

  She was always chasing someone else’s approval: accolades from her father that did nothing more than push her to clamor after more; the approval of her nana. How many times had she asked herself what her mother would think? And not once had any of those things brought her an ounce of the happiness she felt on this boat with Monty.