by Pamela Morsi
Not for one moment, Princess Calhoun assured herself, had she allowed the nagging worry of the note to intrude upon her good judgment. She was so glad that she hadn't confided her strange doubts.
Just for a moment, she had lost her nerve. She had doubted. It had been in that instance of uncertainty that she had contacted Muna and asked that she and her fiancé attend the picnic.
Gerald, being the true gentleman that he was, chose not to take offense at her bad nature.
Princess glanced toward the man beside her. He patted her arm.
"I've been waiting all day for a moment alone with you, Cessy," he said.
She looked up at his warm, honest, loving expression and she smiled.
"I've been waiting to be alone with you, too," she said.
He smiled, obviously delighted at her candor. As soon as they were well hidden among the trees he released her to take off his pin-checked linen coat.
"It's far too warm to be so formal," he told her.
Princess didn't complain. She relished the sight of him in his snowy white shirt and slate-colored lisle web bretelles. He used a nearby tree branch as a coat rack, and when they continued on, he didn't escort her formally, but wrapped his arm with familiarity around her waist.
They walked among the dark umbrella of towering oaks and through the open field in the direction of the river. They stopped for a moment to stand and admire a growth of blooming milkweed, its pink flowers so dark they were almost lavender. Princess wanted to linger but he hurried her on.
"You must see this," he insisted.
And when he pointed out to her the Queen Anne's lace with its feathery, delicate tops and tiny, brilliant flower in the center, it was worth the hurry.
"It is so beautiful," she told him. "Do you think people would think me strange if I took to growing weeds in my flower garden?"
She made the statement as a joke, but his eyes softened. "People mostly do favor the traditional beauty of garden flowers," he said gently. "But I will always appreciate the special loveliness of a blossom uncultivated."
Princess felt for a moment like crying. She wasn't sure exactly why and she pushed the emotion away from her, deliberately choosing to remain in good humor.
"So you are comparing me to a weed?" she teased.
"Be careful," he warned, tweaking her nose. "When we besotted suitors wax poetic you could end up being a sandbur in my heart."
She managed a bit of genuine laughter.
He carefully plucked the blooming flower and led her on further. It was almost as if he knew his way around the area. He seemed so much at home and so anxious for her to see it all. Princess was a little surprised at his obvious love of and familiarity with the out-of-doors. It was unusual, she thought, for a city man, and infinitely endearing.
As they got closer to the river, he spotted a flat rock embedded in the ground.
"Put your hand on that," he urged.
"Why?"
"I want you to prove that I am right," he answered.
Looking at him curiously, Princess laid her palm against the smooth brown stone. The chilly temperature was so startling, she gave a little cry of alarm.
"It's so cold!" she said.
Gerald nodded. "The underground spring is just below here, I think," he said. "And the rock holds the temperature of it better than the ground."
"It's amazing," she said.
He smiled down at her. "I think so, too. This is just an amazing place."
When they finally made it all the way to the river, he found her a pleasant seat on the bank with a broad view downstream.
"It's lovely," she told him.
Gerald nodded. "Let me get you a cattail to go with your Queen Anne's lace."
He made such a vaudeville production of hacking through the tall, marshy growth that Princess found herself laughing with delight at his antics, which appeared to spur him on to more zany behavior. She realized that usually he was more than a bit stuffy, but this place, this magical place, somehow made Gerald Crane appear more like a regular fellow. She was grateful. She loved him, of that she was certain, but it would be difficult being wife to a man who lived so far above her. She had glimpsed the heights of culture and fashion and found no place for herself there. She was a simple woman.
But she wasn't willing to give Gerald up either. And she'd already learned that wealthy spinsterhood did not equal freedom. She'd decided to marry him. Nothing less, no star-crossed love nor illicit liaison would ever be enough.
Princess watched as he fought his way back out of the tall grass. He hurried up the bank bearing a long, soft brown cattail. He dropped to his knees in front of her and held it out as if offering a fancy bouquet.
Princess laughed lightly as she accepted it. She gently ran the down against her cheek.
"It's so soft," she said.
Gerald reached over and with one finger caressed the opposite side of her face.
"Yes, it is so very soft," he whispered.
She warmed to his touch and the tenderness of his words. He cupped her chin in his hand and leaned forward to press his lips all too fleetingly against her own.
Princess sighed.
Gerald smiled. "Oh, I like to hear you make that sound," he said.
"Do you?"
He nodded. "It makes me think I should go on kissing you for a lifetime."
"That sounds nice," she said.
Taking her words as invitation, he brought his lips to hers once more. It was a sweet, chaste kiss. But as usual, it sparked a fire. Princess ran her palms up the snowy sleeves of his shirt and along the wide expanse of his shoulders before wrapping them around his neck.
His own hands oh-so-very-gently caressed her midriff as he deepened the kiss, using his tongue to tease the corners of her mouth.
She was trembling with pleasure at the taste and feel of him. He was warm and solid and she was so protected in his embrace. His fingers fleetingly teased the curve of her breast. She gave a little whine of impatience as she tried to press her bosom more firmly against his hand. He resisted, seemingly unwilling to allow things to go too far.
"Your friend Muna may come strolling out from the trees at any moment," he warned. "She would be scandalized."
Princess agreed with a little giggle. "You're probably right. Then she'd send for my father, who would bring his shotgun and you would be mine forever!" she teased.
Gerald leaned closer and whispered warm, soft words in her ear. "Too late, Cessy. I am already yours forever."
She pulled back to look up into his eyes, marveling at her good fortune. How could it be that this wonderful, sweet, sophisticated gentleman loved her? It was almost too much to be fathomed.
Deliberately she changed the subject. "I worry about Muna," she said. "I only wish she could be as happy as I."
"Don't worry too much," Gerald reassured her, caressing her shoulders. "Her fellow may be a bit slow for spooning, but he'll most likely get the idea."
"You shouldn't joke about it," she said. "And you really shouldn't encourage him."
"You're seriously concerned about Muna?"
Princess nodded. "Yes, I doubt if Maloof has ever kissed her, and I don't think it's good to give him such an idea."
"They are engaged to be married," Gerald pointed out. "Please don't tell me you disapprove of a couple kissing. It's something we seem to be so good at."
As if to prove his point, he brushed his lips once more against hers.
Princess giggled as she felt the blush sweep into her cheeks. "Oh, you silly," she said. "I just ... I just don't want Muna to marry that fellow."
"You disapprove of Maloof?"
"No, no, I don't disapprove of him," she insisted. "It's just that Muna deserves better."
"You don't like him," Gerald said.
"No, it's not that either. In fact I do rather like him. He seems very sweet, but he doesn't love Muna," she said.
"How do you know that?"
"Her father arranged the marriage
," Princess told him. "He wanted Maloof for a business partner, so he just brought him into the family."
Gerald made a sound that was noncommittal.
"Muna is going to have to live with a future devoid of love. He's only marrying her to improve himself financially," she explained.
Beside her she felt Gerald stiffen.
"You're shocked," she said. "I was, too, when I heard it. I know that it's not uncommon for foreigners, but I just find that kind of thing despicable."
"Perhaps we are too hard on him," Gerald said evenly.
"Oh, I don't think so," Princess assured him. "Believe me I've seen these greedy fortune-hunter types. A man would have to be lower than dirt to do such a thing. Luring a woman into a marriage devoid of love."
"Cessy, we have no idea what led him to this pass," Gerald pointed out. "He, also, is choosing to forego love. Maybe there are extenuating circumstances."
"You mean an excuse," she said unkindly.
"I mean that people sometimes do things for reasons they would rather not," he said. "Surely my heroine of social justice believes that."
Princess considered his words.
"Well, of course, he is a stranger here and it's a great advantage to immigrants to have established family connections," she said.
Gerald nodded as Princess continued thoughtfully. "And I understand from Muna that the situation under the Ottoman Empire is very difficult for the Christians of western Syria. With the stagnant economic conditions and religious prejudice, a younger son with any ambition is almost forced to seek his fortune on foreign soil."
"He seems to genuinely care for Muna," Gerald said quietly.
Princess nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is so. And her parents approve of him completely. I don't believe they would ever deliberately do anything to risk her happiness."
Gerald pulled her into an embrace. "That is one of the things that I truly love about you, Cessy," he said. "You are always fair and empathetic, even when you don't wish to be."
She looked up into the handsome eyes of the man she loved. "And that is one of the things that I love about you," she said. "That you would take the side of this man as if he were your closest friend, when he can't even remember your name."
"My name?"
"Didn't you hear him back there," she said. "He called you Tom."
"Tom? I ... ah ... I guess I didn't notice," he said.
"I can only wonder where he got that," she said.
Gerald shrugged and gave a rather boisterous laugh. "Well, he . . . what is it he says, 'I speck Inglush no good,'" he mimicked.
She giggled. "Oh, you sound just like him," she said with delight.
He pulled her deeply into his arms. "But I am not at all like him," he said. "Because when I am given a chance to be alone with my sweetheart, nobody will have to remind me that it might be a good opportunity to steal a kiss."
His firm, warm mouth came down upon her own, not with teasing brevity like before, but with serious romantic intent. Princess parted her lips to give him full access to whatever sweetness he sought there. With the delicate touch of his tongue he made a sensitive trace of her lips that brought a soft moan from deep inside her.
The sound seemed to entice him. He ran his hand along the length of her back, pressing her bosom into the hardness of his chest. She loved the feeling of it. Her breasts were tight, the nipples taut. The bodily contact made that worse, and yet somehow oh-so-much better.
He broke the contact of their mouths only to press his lips a dozen times against the length of her jaw and the sensitive skin at her throat.
"I love you, Cessy," he whispered into her ear. "Have I told you yet that I love you?"
The breathy warmth of the welcome words sent shivers of delight down her flesh.
"Oh, Gerald, I love you, too," she answered.
He pulled away slightly to look down at her. "You really do, don't you," he said. "You really do love me.
"Was there ever any doubt about it?" she asked.
"Then say you will marry me, Cessy," he said. "Here, in this very special place, today, say that you will marry me."
She swallowed with difficulty and looked up into his eyes. All her life she knew that she'd waited for this moment.
Momentarily the dream image was in her mind. She, in the white dress and upon her father's arm, walked down the church aisle toward the man she loved, toward this man. A man to whom her commitment was total. It was the sanctification of an earthly love that symbolized the union of mankind with its creator.
"If that is what you want, Gerald," she said. "Then it is what I want, too. Yes, Gerald Crane, I will marry you."
Chapter Ten
Tom nearly shouted in triumph at Cessy's answer. He had begun to feel almost desperate to win her. If he slipped up and revealed himself as Tom, or if Calhoun found him out, everything would be for nothing. Cessy might love him, but she would surely turn from him if the truth became known. Her obvious distaste for the financial motives of Maloof had made him genuinely uneasy. Tom had had schemes fall through before, but somehow this one had taken on a life of its own. Maloof already knew he was Tom. All the men at the "P" did as well. Topknot and Burford Corners might be two places, but even together they were far too small for a man to maintain separate identities for long.
He couldn't, wouldn't give it up. Gerald Crane was going to marry Princess Calhoun, and Tom Walker was going to disappear. He was determined. Cessy was exactly perfect, he'd decided. She was kind and caring and he even found her bossy ways rather intriguing. She loved him and believed him to be wonderful. That made the million dollars almost a bonus.
"I want it to be soon," he said, voicing his plans aloud as he made them. "I can't wait forever, Cessy. And I already feel that this last week has been the longest in my life. I want to marry soon and I want it secret."
"Secret?" Cessy was startled at the suggestion.
"I think it would be best, don't you," he told her. "If we notify my family or even tell your father, then most certainly there will be a huge wedding party that might take months to plan."
"Well, surely it wouldn't be that big," she hedged.
"Your father's Fourth of July picnic is an extravaganza," Tom pointed out. "How much bigger celebration is he going to want for his only daughter's wedding."
"Yes, you are probably right," she admitted.
"And my family!" Tom rolled his eyes deliberately. "They'd arrive in an entire trainload of private cars. If they allowed us to be wed out here at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, the Cranes are always married in Saint Andrew's, right in the heart of Bedlington. I can almost read those insistent telegrams now."
"Oh!" Cessy sounded genuinely alarmed. "I would not want to travel back East to wed."
"Nor I," he assured her. "But if they know in advance, they will almost certainly ask us to do so. And it would not be good to start our marriage disappointing them."
"No," she agreed. "That really wouldn't be good."
"But," Tom went on, "if we could find a nice, private place that suited us and a discreet preacher, we could be husband and wife and completely settled in our ways before anyone has time to come up with any party plans for us."
Princess was thoughtful for a long moment. He could almost see her mentally giving up any dreams she'd probably had for a big church wedding with all her friends and family there to share it. Tom hated to deny her that, but he couldn't risk it. Too many truths were bound to come out. He couldn't have that happen before they were legally man and wife.
"I know exactly," she said suddenly. "I know exactly the place and the person to marry us."
Tom was momentarily surprised at her easy capitulation.
"He is the sweetest man and he is so caring," she said. "He's given his whole life to helping the less fortunate."
"Can he be trusted?" Tom asked.
"Absolutely," Cessy assured him and giggled joyously. "And he always says that he owes me more f
avors than he can ever repay. I'll tell him that I am collecting."
"So how soon can we say 'I do'?" Tom asked.
"Anytime that we want, I'd think," she answered. "The place is not far from here. We could stop by on the way home and see when it is convenient."
"Today would be very convenient for me," Tom said.
Cessy's eyes widened. "Today?"
"It would be perfect, Cessy," he coaxed her. "We could marry this afternoon. Maloof and Muna could stand up with us. We'd be man and wife, at last."
"Today?" She spoke the word almost breathlessly.
Tom pulled her into his arms once more. "Today, Cessy, we could be married," he said planting a gentle kiss upon her brow. Then he nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear. "And tonight we could be man and wife."
"Oh! Oh, yes," she agreed as he began laying a path of kisses from her jaw to her throat.
Tom heard her sigh with pleasure and pushed his advantage. He brought his mouth to her own once more and laid her back against the surface of the rock. Covering her soft, warm body with his own, he wedged one thigh between her own, opening her legs as easily as he'd opened her heart. She eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck, lovingly sifting her fingers through his hair and caressing his shoulders.
He was hard now and pressed himself commandingly against the soft juncture of her thighs as he whispered sweet promises.
"Cessy, I can show you such pleasure," he declared as he lustily rocked his pelvis against her. "Pleasure like you've never dreamed."
She moaned a low, hot sound in her throat that was infinitely enticing.
"Knowing that you love me is all the pleasure I can imagine," she replied.
It was barely an hour later that they gathered up all of their picnic paraphernalia and loaded the surrey.
Maloof and Muna were both stunned into silence at their impromptu announcement. Neither seemed particularly approving, but Tom was grateful that they said little. And Cessy seemed too starry-eyed to notice.
It was all going to work out perfectly, he assured himself. He would be a good, loyal, and faithful husband to his plain little bride. She would never, by any word or deed, ever suspect that he did not love her passionately.