Shotgun Marriage

by Day Leclaire

  “I know it sounds crazy, but... This is too beautiful a place to leave with such bad memories.” She gazed at him, her eyes vibrant bits of gold. “Please, Rafe.”

  He couldn’t argue with her, not after what she’d just experienced. If she had the courage to return to the water, who was he to object? “Then come,” he said. He drew her toward the rim of the pool, absorbing the shiver that rippled through her as they paused at the edge.

  And then her fear evaporated, absolute faith implicit in the glance she sent him. “Take me in with you.”

  “Do not look at me like that, amada,” he demanded.

  “Like what?”

  “With such trust.”

  “But I do trust you. With my life, as it turns out.”

  His mouth tightened. “You should not.”

  To his irritation, she gave a soft, knowing laugh. Gritting his teeth, he helped her into the water, never allowing her to drift further than arm’s length. But there was a steep price to pay for such close care. Every few minutes she brushed against him. Her lush bottom drifted over his hip. Her full, ripe breasts danced along his forearm. With unerring accuracy, her unguarded foot found the taut length of his thigh. When he felt the pebbled tip of her breast scrape across his back, he could stand no more.

  “We should get out before I do something we both regret,” he said, barely restraining a groan.

  “What is it you think I’ll regret?” She smiled. It was a revealing sort of smile and understanding crashed in on him.

  “You play a dangerous game,” he informed her tightly.

  “And you don’t play at all.”

  It was the last straw. With a guttural snarl, he lunged. Wrapping her in an unrelenting hold, he kicked to the far side of the pool.

  “You have been begging for this.”

  “Since the night we were married,” she confirmed without hesitation. “Are you finally going to give it to me?”

  He closed his eyes, his anger dissipating as swiftly as it had emerged. “Yes, amada. Since it’s what I want, too, it will be all too easy to give you what you wish.”

  Ella hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “If I say I love you, will you leave like you did on our wedding night?”

  He shook his head, but deep furrows carved a path from his cheekbones to the tense line of his jaw. “I don’t have that much control. Not anymore.”

  “In that case...” Cupping his face, she took his mouth in a tender kiss. “I love you, Rafe. Please make me your wife.”

  “I cannot give you all that you ask,” he whispered.

  “But I will give you all that I have.”

  Mist rising off the pool dewed his hair with diamond droplets, matching the silver glitter of his eyes. She splayed her hand across his collarbone, tracing the ragged scars she found there. With a murmur of regret, she bent and kissed each individual mark of valor. His muscles knotted beneath her fingers and she followed the taut lines down his chest to the corrugated surface of his belly.

  “Do not go any further,” he warned roughly. “Or this moment will end before it has begun.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Why don’t I show you, instead.” He slid his hands beneath her arms and lifted. His breath came rapidly, hot against her damp skin. “You are so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

  Water sluiced downward, beading on the tips of her breasts. She whispered his name, half in encouragement, half in protest. With a low groan, he caught the tears of moisture with his tongue. She gripped his shoulders, her eyes drifting shut. Then his mouth closed on her, each tiny love bite more pleasing than the last.

  “Good?” he murmured, his jaw a delicious abrasion against her sensitive skin.

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “I can make it better.”

  She laughed, the sound low and husky. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “You will see. Grab the rock above you, amada.”

  She looked up. A fingerlike outcropping jutted directly overhead and she reached for it, latching onto the rough surface so she hung half in, half out of the water. Her weight pulled her taut and he took full advantage of the exposed landscape, wandering over creamy hillocks and into delicate hollows, exploring rich deltas and moist caverns. And always he drove her. Past curiosity. Past budding desire. Relentlessly pushing her toward an all-consuming desperation for fulfillment.

  Her breathing grew labored, her body heavy with need. “I can’t hold on any longer.”

  “Wrap your legs around my waist and let go.”

  She did as he requested and he caught her as she fell, slowing her descent. Palming her bottom, he sheathed himself within her, burning heat melding into innocent warmth. When he could go no further, he lifted her again, starting the slow, stormy slide all over.

  She trembled helplessly, filled with such joy and wonder that tears flooded her eyes. This was what she’d waited for, refusing to settle for less, knowing that it wouldn’t be right without Rafe. As though sensing her thoughts, he whispered tender words, striving to make each moment sweeter than the last. Bit by bit their pace increased until the hot water washed over and around them, slapping, splashing, churning. And then came the moment that fused them into one, shattering in its impact.

  In that instant, Ella felt as though anything was possible. The villagers would receive the prosperity and happiness they’d long awaited. Shayne would find satisfaction and contentment through her mosaic work. The finca wouldn’t have to be sold. And, Rafe... Rafe would end his vendetta and allow love into his life.

  At long last, she’d receive the magic of the Cinderella Ball. And with that magic, she’d discover happily-ever-after in the arms of the man she loved with all her heart and soul.

  Rafe and Ella returned to Esperanza just as the sun set. “Why don’t I ask Chelita to fix a salad for us?” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “After working our way through Manuel’s bag of snacks, I’m not very hungry.”

  “I’m not, either. A salad sounds perfect.” She paused within the cool shelter of the entranceway, her quiet voice amplified by the slate flooring. “I’ll go shower, then meet you in the dining room. All right?”

  Chelita appeared just then. “Disculpe, Señor,” she said nervously.

  “Yes?”

  She spared a swift glance for Ella. “El padre de la Senora està aquí. Quiere hablar con usted solo. Solamente usted.”

  “Adónde?”

  “En la oficina.”

  He frowned. “Thank you, Chelita. I’ll deal with it.”

  “Is something wrong?” Ella asked. She’d recognized a word or two of the housekeeper’s rapid-fire Spanish, but not enough to follow the conversation.

  “Go ahead and shower. I have some business to attend to.” He hesitated. “Perhaps you should come to my office once you’ve changed.”

  “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “Why don’t I come now?”

  He shook his head, his expression adamant. “Give me a moment first. It may be nothing.”

  She didn’t argue. But an inexplicable fear seized her. In sudden need of reassurance, she caught his face between her palms and tugged him toward her. He didn’t require any prompting, but covered her mouth in an ardent kiss. One hand bunched in the damp curls of her hair, his other followed the length of her spine, molding her against him. She felt his desire return, felt the desperate need reassert itself.

  “We can’t,” he muttered.

  “I know.” She sighed, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and tugging gently. “Thank you for today. Maybe tomorrow—”

  “Do not say it, amada.” He closed his eyes, deep lines slashing along the sides of his mouth. “Today might be all I can give you.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she protested. “I won’t believe it.”

  He started to speak, then shook h
is head. “Go and shower. I was wrong to say anything. This isn’t the appropriate time.”

  She shivered, suddenly cold. “I hope that time never comes.”

  He didn’t respond, but stood motionless and silent, his eyes an unreadable sooty gray. Standing on tiptoe, she planted a quick kiss along the taut line of his jaw and headed for her room. She didn’t rush her shower. Although part of her wanted to hurry back to Rafe, a more rational part urged caution. Something had happened in the entranceway. Something that had changed his attitude toward her. And she wasn’t in any hurry to discover what that might be. She needed a second to herself. A brief moment in which to relive the past several hours. A brief moment in which to believe that dreams could come true.

  Once she’d finished dressing, she made her way to Rafe’s office. After knocking, she pushed open the door. Rafe sat behind his desk. And leaning across it, speaking in irate tones, was her father. Clearly, they hadn’t heard her knock.

  “...idea what you’re doing!” Donald was asserting.

  Rafe stared at him coldly. “I know precisely what I’m doing.”

  “Dad,” she said in astonishment. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  They both looked up at the same instant, conflicting expressions on their faces. Her father looked furious. Rafe appeared resigned. “Come in, amada. And close the door.”

  “I don’t want her involved in this,” Donald protested.

  “It is far too late for that.”

  She glanced from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

  “Go ahead,” Rafe ordered. “Tell her.”

  After a momentary hesitation, Donald said, “It’s a financial matter. It has to do with our mortgage. It comes up for renewal soon and...” He shrugged in resignation. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt. The company who owns the note—the Phoenix Corporation—won’t renew it. And the banks I’ve approached have been less than helpful.”

  Ella fought to control her alarm. “The banks weren’t helpful in the first place. That’s why you went to Phoenix. When does this note come due?”

  “In three days.”

  She spared a brief glance for her husband. “What does this have to do with Rafe?”

  “I’ve come to ask his advice.”

  Her father was being evasive, she could tell. “Why his advice?”

  “If I can’t get the loan extended, our only option is to sell the house.”

  “Sell...” She turned to Rafe. “You have to help.”

  “What is it you’d like me to do?” he inquired politely.

  “I don’t know. Come up with something!”

  “Ella—” her father began.

  Rafe cut in. “I would think the funds generated from these Cinderella Balls would be more than sufficient to meet several years’ worth of loan payments.”

  “They would,” Ella said impatiently. “If my parents kept the profit instead of donating it to charity.”

  He frowned. “Charity?”

  “You didn’t think we kept the money, did you? Look, could we get back to the matter at hand? What if you talked to this Phoenix Corporation on their behalf?”

  “And...?”

  “And tried to convince them to renew my parents’ loan.”

  “Ella—”

  Once again Rafe cut Donald off. “Why would I do that?”

  She glared at him. “Because they’ll ruin my parents. They’d be stealing your idea. You have to stop them.”

  He stared at her in utter astonishment. Then he gave a short, rough laugh. “Ah, amada,” he murmured. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “I gather that’s not a compliment.”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that I could be the one behind these financial difficulties?”

  “No.”

  He looked intrigued. “Why not?”

  “Because I trust you,” she said simply. “You promised to give me time and you will.”

  “Ella—” her father began yet again.

  “One moment, please,” Rafe interrupted. All expression had dropped from his face and he stared at Ella with winter-gray eyes. “Then let me ask you this. Why would I step in? What difference does it make who takes your parents down when the end result is exactly what I’d hoped?”

  She stalked across the room. Planting her hands on his desk, she leaned over the polished teak surface. “I’d think it would make a lot of difference. This Phoenix Corporation will have robbed you of your revenge. Besides, it’s one thing for you to make the threat. We can discuss it like two rational adults and eventually I can get you to see reason. But this corporation—”

  “Ella, you don’t understand,” Donald cut in.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “What don’t I understand?”

  Rafe sighed. “I believe what your father is trying to say is that I own Phoenix Corporation. I’m the one causing your parents’ financial woes. I did warn you I had the means, if you’ll recall.”

  She straightened, stepping back from the desk. “No, I don’t believe you.”

  Rafe glanced at Donald. “Would you excuse us for a moment? This won’t take long. I’m sure Chelita is hovering nearby. Feel free to ask her for a cup of coffee.”

  The minute the door closed behind her father, Ella broke into speech. “Stop this, Rafe. I know you can.”

  “I can. But I won’t.”

  She fought to keep her voice even. “If I gave you my word that there wouldn’t be any further Cinderella Balls, would that be acceptable?”

  “It isn’t your word I need, but your parents’.”

  She stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. “Have you any idea why I came to Costa Rica? Any idea at all?”

  He released a tired sigh. “We’ve been over this ground before. You’re here to stop me from harming your parents. It’s the same as I would have done if I’d been in your predicament. It’s what I’ve been trying to do for Shayne ever since I took her away from Jackie.”

  “And this afternoon? Was making love to you another way of protecting my parents?”

  His eyes narrowed. “If it was, it won’t work.”

  “That you’d even think I could—” Every scrap of color drained from her face. “After all we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me, do you?”

  “I don’t trust easily. You know that.”

  “But do you trust me?”

  His control snapped and he surged to his feet. “Do you think I don’t want to? I trusted you once before, remember? I let down my guard and trusted you with the one person who meant the most to me. And you betrayed me by inviting her to the Cinderella Ball. Is it any wonder that I hesitate to trust again? Is it any wonder that I’d do anything to stop these balls?”

  “I guess not,” she whispered.

  He held out his hand. Where once his wedding band had glittered with a bright promise, now it appeared dark and somber. “Ella, our marriage doesn’t have to end, if that’s what concerns you. Once your father has given me the guarantee I’ve requested, we can be done with this matter. Our marriage can continue as before.”

  “Exactly how long will it continue? Forever?” He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. “That’s right. You don’t believe in forever. Or miracles. Or love. Or happily-ever-after. Do you, Rafe?”

  He closed his eyes. “No,” he said bleakly. “I don’t.”

  “I could make this so easy for you,” she murmured. “But I refuse to do it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head. “No, Rafe. I don’t want half measures from you. It has to be all or nothing, which I guess leaves me with nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my father’s waiting. I have to go.”

  “Go? What do you mean, go?”

  She paused at the door. “I’m leaving, Rafe. I’m returning to Nevada. As far as your guarantee is concerned ...” She looked over her
shoulder with tarnished gold eyes. “You can go to hell.”

  A bitter smile touched his mouth. “It’s too late, amada. I’m there already.”

  Shayne stepped from the shadows shading the courtyard fountain and approached Rafe. “You’re staring at that mosaic of La Estrella like she holds the solution to all your problems,” she commented.

  “I wish that were so.” He glanced down at what he held in his hand—Ella’s unfolded wedding band. It was the only thing she’d left behind, a symbolic gesture that gleamed dully within his palm. “But it isn’t.”

  Shayne watched him apprehensively. “You still don’t trust her, do you?”

  “Don’t you start, too. Not now.”

  “Is it... Is it because of what happened at the Cinderella Ball?”

  Rafe glanced at his sister, something in her voice capturing his full attention. He slipped the ring into his pocket. “Yes, the Cinderella Ball has a lot to do with it.” He paused before asking with grave deliberation, “Or is it a mistake to hold that against her?”

  Slowly Shayne nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

  His gut tightened as the blinders were wrenched from his eyes. “She didn’t invite you to the ball, did she? She didn’t know you intended to find a husband.”

  “No,” his sister confirmed, her voice almost inaudible.

  But he heard. Heard and was forced to believe. “Ah, mi pobrecita pichón. Why have you kept this from me for so long?”

  “Because...” Her chin quivered and she made a helpless gesture. “Because I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid that if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. That you’d get rid of me the way Jackie did.”

  “Dios mío, nunca!” He vaulted off the bench, sweeping her into his arms. “I’d never do such a thing. Surely you must realize this?”

  She burrowed against him. “I’m sorry. It was wrong, I know. But I couldn’t take the chance. You were all I had left.”

  “I swear, I will always be here for you.” He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. “Nothing will ever change how I feel about you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I think I know that now.”