Quiet Walks the Tiger

by Heather Graham

  It wasn’t Wesley walking up to the house, but Cassie.

  Sloan whistled her sister’s name in disbelief. “Cassie! What are you doing here? Do you have any idea of what time it is?”

  Cassie shrugged, brushing past Sloan. “I came to have a cup of tea with my sister on the night before her wedding.”

  “Oh, I see,” Sloan murmured sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest and following Cassie into the kitchen, still so surprised she forgot to close the door. “Clear as day.” Cassie was calmly filling the kettle with water. “That’s what you told George,” Sloan stated.

  “That’s what I’m doing, isn’t it?” Cassie questioned serenely.

  “Precisely,” Sloan acknowledged dryly. “Okay, Cass, what is this all about?”

  “You have to call off the wedding,” Cassie said bluntly, not watching Sloan as she set mugs on the table.

  “What?” Sloan shrieked.

  “Will you hush up!” Cassie hissed. “You’re going to wake your whole house.”

  Sloan waved a hand in the air impatiently. “No one is going to wake up. The kids have been in bed for hours, and Florence is in another world. Now what in the world are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Cassie said miserably. “You can’t marry Wes. You’re my sister, Sloan, and I love you, but I can’t stand by and watch you use a wonderful man like Wes because you’ll only make both your lives miserable.”

  “What do you mean?” Sloan asked thickly.

  “You’re-rushing things, Sloan,” Cassie said, her brown eyes deep with unhappy turmoil as she met her sister’s gaze squarely. “I’ve wanted to talk to you all week, but I keep telling myself I’m not your parent, guardian, or conscience. And I’d hoped from the moment I saw Wes and knew he was interested in you that something would form between you.” She stopped speaking, bit her lip, and drew a long breath to begin again as Sloan stared at her blankly. “Sloan, I know you. I’ve known you all my life. Even when we were kids, you could charm the pants off of anyone you set your mind to. You were never cruel or malicious, but you could turn on that smile and connive just about anything. I saw you get your way with that sweetly subtle cajolery with Mom and Dad and Terry—and me! And it’s not bad, Sloan, it’s tactful and polite and no one usually knows he or she has even been taken! I’m sure that sometimes you don’t even know you’re doing it. But this time I’m sure you do, Sloan,” she said gravely. “This time you’ve turned on the charm for all the wrong reasons! You’re marrying Wes for his money.”

  “Cassie!” Sloan gasped, stunned by her sister’s intuitive grasp of her initial motives. “Cassie, you’re wrong!” she insisted, but she had never lied to her sister, and the fact that she was right about the original scheming made Sloan’s protest weak.

  Cassie shook her head, her eyes sad. “You said yes to a proposal in a week, Sloan, to a man you were barely polite to at first.”

  “Oh, Cassie,” Sloan murmured, loving her sister and unable to bear her condemnation. “You were right. But not now.” The screaming hiss of the teakettle momentarily halted her explanation—and also covered all other sounds in the house. Sloan grabbed the water and poured it over tea bags in the mugs and curled into a kitchen chair before continuing. “Cassie, everything was going to hell! I was overdue on the mortgage, the electricity—everything. So yes, I did set out to charm Wes. I had to get him to marry me; I needed his money.”

  “Oh, Sloan!” Cassie admonished miserably. “Without love?”

  Sloan was fumbling for a way to explain how things had changed. “No, I didn’t love him when I knew I had to make it be marriage. I—”

  The sharp sound of the front door closing froze Sloan before she could go any further. “Wes!” she exclaimed to Cassie in a quiet hiss. Her sister had taken her so off guard that she had forgotten his expected arrival. “Cassie—I’ll finish explaining later,” she begged in a whisper, her eyes wide and pleading.

  Cassie might attack her on moral grounds when they were alone, but as a sister she was true blue. Her voice rose cheerfully. “Sloan—I think he’s finally made it here!”

  Both sisters set their mugs down and almost knocked each other over in their guilty haste to reach the living room. “Wesley!” Sloan cried happily as she saw his tall form in the doorway. She raced across the room to embrace him, unaware in her own exuberance that he accepted her stiffly.

  “You’re late!” Cassie teased from her distance. “I’d better get on home so that you two can have your words out!”

  Wes brushed Sloan’s forehead with a kiss and smiled at Cassie. “No, Cass, don’t leave on my account. I did run late, so I’m just stopping by to say that I’m here.”

  “Stopping by?” Sloan questioned him with a frown. She blushed slightly, not sure how to phrase her confusion with Cassie present. “Wes, your things are all here. Florence and I cleared out your house except for the things we’ll need for the wedding. I—I thought you’d stay here tonight,” she stammered.

  Wes slipped an arm around her and tilted her chin. He smiled, but she noticed how hard the angles of his face could be, how tense the bronzed skin that stretched across them. He was tired, she realized, very tired. His eyes also had a peculiar light, one that glittered icily in the dim light of the doorway. “I wouldn’t dream of staying here tonight,” he teased, his voice husky. “We want to get that wedding ring on your finger, my love, and they say it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. I don’t think we’ll be needing any bad luck, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” Sloan agreed slowly, the chill his eyes had given her dissipated by the intense heat radiating from his body. Actually, she didn’t give a damn about bad luck; he was here, and she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms and quell the terrible aching she felt for him to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her...“It’s just that I’ve missed you so!” she whispered, loath to release him.

  “Listen, I really am going—” Cassie began.

  “No, no,” Wes protested with firm haste. “I haven’t had any sleep, and I think I’m going to need some to deal with my charming bride.” He turned to Sloan, the smooth curve of his lip forming a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kiss me quick, love. I think I’d better get out of here”—his smile broadened, but there was a dry twist to his words—“before I lose my control with you completely, Sloan.”

  Sloan laughed, unaware that there could be a double meaning to his words. She kissed him, relishing the commanding feel of his lips upon hers, sensing something warm and combustible in his restrained passion. Tomorrow, she told herself, reluctantly allowing him to pull back from their embrace. Less than ten hours would see them man and wife...

  “You should have called,” she chastised him huskily. “I was worried.”

  “Were you?” His grip on her shoulders was strong, almost painful; his kiss had been bruising. Neither bothered Sloan. He had missed her as much as she had missed him. “Yes, of course,” he murmured. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”

  Sloan frowned. “I know, but you said you’d be in tonight—”

  “I am going!” Cassie interrupted.

  “No, I am!” Wes chuckled, pulling Sloan to him once more so that she felt the thunderous pounding of his heart. He pulled away just as abruptly. “Cassie—good-night. Sloan...” He ran a finger along her cheek, a tender movement that became tense. “Tomorrow, love.” He turned and exited before she could make another protest or chastisement.

  Both sisters were silent for several seconds, Sloan mainly because she felt the sun had warmed her only to be covered by a cloud, Cassie because she was relieved that they had heard the door and hushed their conversation. She finally cleared her throat, wondering if Sloan, who was still staring at the door with brilliant, longing eyes, remembered that she was there.

  Sloan spun around to face her. “Cassie!” She chuckled, running to hug her sister. “Don’t you see? Everything is all right! I did set out
to use Wes, but I did fall in love with him! Hopelessly. Completely. If he didn’t have a penny to his name, I would feel the same way about him. He’s wonderful and—oh, just everything! I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world!”

  Cassie breathed a sigh of happy relief. “I believe you,” she said sheepishly. “No woman who isn’t in love can carry stars in her eyes like you are now. I’m all for you, sis—I wish you both the best of everything. And I’m going home now, with a nice clear conscience. George already thinks I’m crazy for streaking out of the house in the middle of the night like this. Go get some sleep, kid! You’ll be a bride in the morning.”

  The sisters hugged again, and Sloan watched until her sister was safely in the car. Then she locked the door and waltzed into her room.

  She slept easily, ecstatic that Wes was back, and even if he wasn’t with her that night, there would never have to be another night when he wasn’t. She dreamed of her wonderful luck.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SLOAN DIDN’T SEE WESLEY again until the ceremony, which was, according to their desires, simple but beautiful. Fragrant displays of summer flowers were the only decoration; the lilting strains of a single guitar the only music. Cassie acted as matron of honor, Wesley’s brother Dave as best man. Sloan, in a cloud of excitement and euphoria, barely heard the words spoken, and although Wes’s replies were strong and sure, she had to be nudged by Cassie to speak at the appropriate times.

  Then the brief ceremony was over; they were officially man and wife. Wesley bent obediently to kiss her; and as his lips claimed hers, Sloan felt a tension and hint of punishment in the pressure of his arms.

  It’s the time we’ve been apart, she thought with loving tolerance. He released her, and their eyes met. For a second it seemed as if Wesley stared at her with cold, fathomless disdain. Then the look was gone, and she dismissed it from her mind as fancy. She was smiling up at Wes, handsome and as benevolent as an ancient god in the formfitting tux and exquisite laced shirt which seemed but to enhance every majestic line of his masculinity. Sloan reeled with the impact of his return smile, drunk from his aura and presence. She felt like Sleeping Beauty; awoken by a kiss only to find the real prince of her dreams. Was it a dream? she wondered blissfully. It was all too good to be true. Or did every bride feel the way that she did at the moment, even if it was the second time around?

  The reception passed in as much of a blur as the wedding. Wes’s brother and sister-in-law were an attractive, charming couple; Dave was a slimmer version of his brother and every bit as personable; Susan, a vivacious, down-to-earth woman Sloan immediately liked. The children pranced about gleefully, delighted to be participating in grown-up affairs, stealing sips of champagne from any available glass that fell their way. Before she knew it, Sloan, higher than ever on her cloud after several glasses of the delicious champagne, was being ushered into Wes’s room to change for her honeymoon.

  “Oh, Sloan!” Cassie marveled breathlessly as she followed her sister into the room and closed the door behind her. Tears of happiness formed in her deep brown eyes. “You’re so beautiful today, so radiant! I’m so happy for you.” Flying across the room, she embraced Sloan with a strangling hug.

  “Thanks, Cassie,” Sloan whispered. Then they were laughing and crying together, and Sloan’s dress was spotted by their joyous tears.

  Cassie finally extracted herself and smiled at Sloan from arm’s distance. “I’m going to miss you...”

  “I won’t be gone long, and I’ll deluge you with postcards—”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Cassie said, choking on a sniffle. “You’ll be gone for good when you get back.”

  “Not for good!” Sloan protested, feeling nostalgic pangs of departure herself but determined to cheer Cassie. “We’ll be living in Gettysburg part time!”

  “Yeah,” Cassie agreed, forcing a smile. “What am I doing?” she moaned. “I’m not supposed to be making you weepy on your wedding day!”

  “Zip my zipper then,” Sloan directed. “We’ve a long ride to the airport.”

  Sloan’s travel outfit was a tailored, powder-blue dress with a matching jacket for the sound possibility of cooler weather when their plane landed in Belgium. The sisters chatted as Sloan retouched her makeup and unnecessarily straightened her clothing for a last time. “I’m ready, I guess,” Sloan finally said.

  “You sound reluctant,” Cassie laughed. “Nervous?”

  “Yep.”

  “Goodness—why?” Cassie demanded.

  Sloan had to stop and think. “I don’t know. Aren’t all brides nervous?”

  “To a point,” Cassie agreed. “But not all brides get to marry Wes! He’s the nicest man...always so calm and gentle! I’d trust him with my life and—” Cassie broke off, blushing.

  “And what?”

  “I’ll bet he’s a hell of a lover!”

  Sloan started to giggle. “I’ll bet you’re right!”

  Just then Laura came racing into the room, tears flooding down her little cheeks. Sloan scooped her daughter into her arms. “Darling! What’s the matter?”

  It was difficult to understand Laura’s garbled sobbings, but Sloan eventually deciphered the cause for her daughter’s misery; Laura had just realized that her mother was actually leaving her for two weeks.

  Crooning into Laura’s silky-soft hair, Sloan assured her that she wouldn’t be gone long and that Florence and Cassie would take good care of her. Laura continued to cry.

  “What’s the problem?”

  Sloan looked up to find Wesley leaning in the doorframe. Raising her hands helplessly, she explained, “Laura doesn’t want us to go.”

  Without another word to Sloan, Wes took the little girl from her arms. In a soothing voice, but one which he might also use on an adult, Wesley patiently told her that they were going on a honeymoon, and people usually did when they were married. He promised sincerely that they wouldn’t be gone long and that they would send postcards and bring home special presents for everyone. Laura’s sniffles slowly subsided, and before long she was asking Wesley to make sure he brought her a doll. She was all smiles by the time he set her down, eager to kiss them both good-bye.

  Sloan and Wes had no further problems leaving. Jamie told them good-bye and to have a great time in a very adult manner; Terry was happily crunching crackers his aunt had given him and barely brushed his mother with a gritty kiss. To the happy strains of laughter and a shower of rice, Wes led his new bride to the car.

  Sloan’s nervousness increased as Wesley silently drove. Unaccountably, she was becoming terribly uneasy in his company. Remembering her sister’s words, she tried to settle comfortably into her seat. Wes was a terrific man, always calm and understanding. And he would be, she was sure as a thrill of heat raced through her at the thought, a superb lover. If “previews” meant anything...Yet even as she deliciously contemplated the night, a vision of the icy hardness of his eyes as he stared at her after the ceremony rose unbidden to her mind. Stop! she warned herself. She could relax now, feel young.

  Sitting up abruptly, she shook her head as if to clear it and turned to her new husband with a smile. Her wanderings were absurd and ridiculous! She knew Wes, she loved and understood him completely. He was the nicest, most wonderful man in the world, and any suspicions to the contrary were pure imagination on her part! They loved one another, and love was comfortable, secure...fun! She had invented his look of this morning in her mind; it had been a trick of light.

  Resting her hand lightly on his thigh, she said, “Thanks for handling Laura so well. She was breaking my heart.”

  Wes shrugged, his eyes planted squarely on the road. “I’m crazy about the kids, you know that. And they’re not your children anymore; they’re ours.”

  “I love you,” Sloan said softly.

  “Do you?”

  Whatever reply Sloan had been expecting, that wasn’t it. She studied him, puzzled. “You know I love you,” she said, hurt. “Why else...”

  Wes
ley’s arm came around her neck, and he ruffled the hair at its nape. “We all like assurance,” he said, and he glanced at her quickly. His eyes were full of their sea-jade warmth, and Sloan relaxed. Everything was all right.

  “Why don’t you settle down for a bit of a nap,” Wes suggested, idly stroking her hair. “We’ve still got quite a drive to the airport, then a long flight, and it will be morning all over again when we land. Might be some time before we get to bed, and then—” He juggled his eyebrows insinuatively, and Sloan blushed like a girl and chuckled.

  “Well, hell!” he grumbled with a wink. “One of us is going to need a lot of energy!”

  “Okay, okay,” Sloan retorted, stretching across the car and resting her head in his lap. “I’m napping!”

  After the excitement of boarding the plane and moving out over the Atlantic had also diminished, Sloan again cuddled into her reclining chair, her hand resting possessively in Wesley’s, and slipped into another catnap. It was easy to sleep with the clouds out her window and the faint hum of the engines lulling in her ears. So easy, in fact, that Wesley was shaking her awake before she could believe the long flight had passed.

  An hour later they were standing in the middle of Brussels’ magnificent Grand Place while her citizens busily scurried about. Sloan stared in awe at the breathtaking visage of the city center. The buildings, though grayed and sooted with age, were spectacular. In the brilliance of the summer sun, they shone like a fairy tale, all white and glittering gold and carved with exquisite artistry.

  “We’ll just walk around a little and get the feel of the city,” Wes said, taking her arm, “Feast on a delectable meal of French cuisine and head out for the hotel. Tomorrow we can start sightseeing.”

  “Tomorrow,” Sloan laughed. “It is tomorrow.”

  “Not here.” Wes grinned.

  Wes pointed out certain of the gold-gilded buildings as they walked, reading from a tourist manual. The city was founded in the 500s, and many of the structures still standing dated back to the 1200s. They viewed with wonder and excitement the old Hotel de Ville, the Church of Saint Gudule, and the more modern Palace of Justice.