Mishap Marriage (10 page)

Zack let go and stepped back. ‘God damn it! The man’s drunk!’ The problem now was what to do next. He could hardly parade a drunken cleric in front of the McKenzies.

Thomas looked at him and cocked a brow. ‘Can I be of help?’

‘Not unless you’re a damned good actor,’ Zack growled.

‘Oh, I can act all right,’ Thomas said, cocksure of himself, ‘for a price... Why, didn’t I appear in
The Merchant of Venice
as Shylock once—and again as Romeo to a rather delectable Juliet!’

He had Zack’s attention. He looked at him hard. ‘How much?’

‘That depends on the part.’

‘What’s your name?’

Thomas shrugged himself away from the door and made a flourish of a bow. ‘Thomas Franklyn—at your service, Captain.’

‘Come with me.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’

‘Wait until you hear what I’m about to ask of you before you consider it a pleasure.’

Quietly triumphant, with a smug smile and a spring to his step, Thomas followed jauntily in the captain’s wake.

* * *

Quietly confident that he had everything under control and that things would go his way, accompanied by Singleton and Thomas Franklyn, Zack arrived at Melrose Hill as the light was fading.

From the window of her bedchamber, Shona watched him leap from his black horse with a strange tight feeling round her heart. As always he looked striking, in his buckled shoes, lace at his throat and olive-green coat. She was not surprised to see Thomas with him—Antony had told her that in the absence of the island’s curate, he was to perform the ceremony. He had also told her that for reasons that he would make clear to her later, she must treat Thomas as if he were a stranger to her. Knowing Antony would have his reasons and wishing to avoid further argument, she had not questioned this, but she did consider it an odd request.

As soon as she had seen the two of them disappear into the house, Shona left the window and waited till she was summoned. It was hot, but she shivered in her embroidered ivory dress. Looking at the trunks ready to be taken to the ship the following day, she felt a sudden terror seize her now the moment had come for her to confront the man who would take her away from Santamaria. Her hands were icy and she shivered all over in a sudden panic.

Muffled but ominous noises through the house reached her ears. Suddenly the door opened and Carmelita appeared. She pursed her lips when she caught sight of Shona standing there.

‘What are you doing? They have sent for you. Come along and try to put a good face on things,’ she advised, turning and walking ahead of Shona. Incapable of showing any reaction by now, Shona followed docilely.

Entering the drawing room, where the ceremony was to be performed, Shona was aware of people standing around, but her eyes became fixed on Zack Fitzgerald conversing quietly with Mr Singleton. With a prayer book in his hands, Thomas, standing alone, appeared a sombre figure in his black surplice. When she appeared, however, Zack and his first mate stopped talking and looked at her. She was acutely conscious of Zack’s unrelenting gaze. He watched her with a slow, unhurried intensity that unnerved her.

There was a certain tension in Zack’s body, his eyes transfixed by Shona’s beauty, as he watched her slowly walk into the centre of the room. Shona’s lowered eyes prevented her seeing the look of wondering admiration which spread across his face.

Taking her place by his side, Shona drew herself upright. Her slender figure seemed taller in the rose, dancing sunlight. Her resplendent golden hair enveloped her in a sort of radiance, which suddenly made Zack’s heart ache. Her beauty was almost blinding and Zack, more drawn to her than he cared to admit, had a presentiment that she was one of the rare women for whom wars were fought, for whom men killed themselves—women who rarely bring happiness to the men who love them.

But as he stood by her side to recite the words that, unbeknown to him, would bind them together for all eternity, his expression was one of resolve. However much he wanted to, he couldn’t let himself make love to her. He couldn’t let his objectives slide. He swore Shona McKenzie and her brother would pay for intimidating him and trying to manipulate him, and by damned, they would! No one could blackmail him, then be as sublimely happy and content for doing so—as the woman by his side was at this moment. It was the devil in him that wouldn’t let him be tested and pride was the devil’s name.

Thomas made sure that the marriage ceremony was brief. He was uncomfortable with what he was about to do. His desire to please Antony, and at the same time grant Shona her heart’s desire to return to England, had overcome his reservations. Now he was set on a path of deception that might have disastrous consequences.

Shona heard herself answer ‘yes’ to Thomas’s questions as though in a dream. Her voice had sunk to a whisper and he had to lean forward to catch her responses. Zack, for his part, had spoken up in a calm, indifferent voice.

The warmth of his hand replaced the coldness that had threatened to engulf Shona only moments ago when she had sat waiting in her chamber. From time to time she stole a glance at this man who was shortly to be her husband. She thought back to the moment he had arrived on Santamaria, relived each breathless, daring second—the pressure of his lips, the taste, the wanton way her body had responded to his touch. So long ago now, it seemed. So many ages past, yet it was only days.

Is that what love should be like?

The thought that it should be struck her like a thunderbolt. Her heart was suddenly full, almost bursting with excitement beyond words. Surely she didn’t...couldn’t...be in love with him?

How handsome he looks,
she thought. He had his eyes fixed straight ahead. Without warning, she knew a moment’s panic. Somewhere in her mind a voice cried out that she was making a terrible mistake, committing herself to a man whom, deep in her heart, she knew held a deep resentment for her. From this point there would be no turning back. They were caught up in an implacable destiny, that whatever the future held, they would have to endure together all their lives. There was a curiously unreal, almost sinister air about the whole thing. Recalling the happy ceremonies she had attended when friends of her family had married, Shona told herself that this was easily the most depressing wedding she had ever been to.

The words that bound them together were spoken quietly. Shona’s eyes misted over when Zack promised to love, honour and cherish her. With all her being she wanted the words to be true. The ring was placed on her finger and the ceremony was concluded when Thomas pronounced them man and wife.

He gave a nod to Zack. ‘You may now kiss the bride.’

Shona flushed and would have turned away for fear of being rebuffed. A small gasp of surprise escaped her as Zack tightened his arm about her waist and pulled her round to face him. Slanting its way across his firm lips was a rather wicked, wayward grin and slowly he lowered his head to hers. All reason fled as his lips hovered close above her own.

‘Bear with my kiss, Shona,’ he murmured, his breath warm on her mouth. ‘Everyone would be disappointed if I were remiss in not doing so.’

Suddenly his lips were moving over hers in a warmly seductive kiss that stirred some strange, unexplainable brew that sapped the strength from her limbs and made her head spin and her heart race wildly. Without her being aware of it, she placed her hand on his waist, causing a murmur of approval from those present. It acted on her like a douche of cold water. Coming to her senses, she stepped back and turned her face aside. Zack straightened and turned away.

A small banquet awaited the few wedding guests in the dining room. It was a quiet, strained affair in spite of Mr Singleton’s efforts to lighten the atmosphere. Shona, seated beside Zack, scarcely touched the food which was placed before her. She ate a morsel or two of the superb fish course, cooked in herbs, but the food stuck in her throat when she swallowed.

The champagne had a cheering effect on the company. Antony had mellowed enough to try to draw Zack into the conversation, and even though he maintained a reserved composure and was well skilled at putting a fine cutting edge on his civility, the atmosphere became quite convivial. Shona felt isolated and alone like a spectator at a play as she sat back and watched them all laughing and talking. She couldn’t wait to escape.

* * *

When the meal was over, Carmelita escorted Shona to her room, where she instructed Morag to prepare her mistress for bed. Fully aware of the deception that had preceded this marriage, positively preening with her success in getting her irritating sister-in-law married off at last, Carmelita couldn’t help her lips forming a semblance of a smile.

‘There, you see. Everything went well. That wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

‘Not for you, maybe, but I wouldn’t say that.’

Carmelita dismissed her comment with a careless shrug of her shoulders and returned to the guests.

* * *

From where he sat Zack watched Shona leave, knowing he was expected to follow when he had given her enough time to get ready for him. He had thought he had solved the problem of his lovely wife by refusing to go near her, but his plight somehow only became more unbearable at the thought of leaving her.

* * *

When Morag helped her remove her clothes, Shona took a new and intense pleasure in the beauty of her own body, which was very soon to be presented to her husband. While Morag stood behind her, combing out her golden hair till it shone as brightly as the sun, Shona dabbed a few drops of jasmine on her neck and wrists. When she moved she felt herself enveloped in a cloud of fresh, delicious but subtle fragrance.

The polished mirror in its elaborate frame reflected back a charming picture, all rose-pink and pale gold. It was such a ravishing sight that Shona’s eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation, confident that the grooming of her body would prove to be an irresistible magnet, a delicious trap for her husband. She longed for him with all the ardour of her proud heart and all the passion and vigour of blooming youth.

When Morag had finished, with a happy tear in her eye, she, too, stood back a little distance to admire the enchanting vision of womanhood reflected in the mirror. ‘There, you look lovely, Shona. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you now. Your husband will be with you shortly.’

‘Yes—yes, Morag,’ Shona said, throwing her arms about her maid’s neck and hugging her. ‘Tomorrow we sail for Martinique and then England. I’m so excited and happy I’ll have you with me. In fact, I’m so excited I have to keep pinching myself.’

Shona stood motionless when Morag had left, her nervousness returning as she waited for Zack to come. One minute she longed for his presence and the next she prayed he would not come. She both feared and desired him.

* * *

When Zack opened the door the first thing he saw was Shona standing in the middle of the room, her slender body outlined beneath the gossamer-thin nightdress, the golden nimbus of hair drawn back from her face so as to reveal her long, supple neck. She looked like some pagan goddess. His glance flickered over the shadow of her breasts through the soft folds of material, provocative and arresting. Yet the gown was so simply cut that her nakedness beneath seemed innocent, almost vulnerable. He stood looking at her, as if not wanting to spoil the lovely picture she made, not wanting to disturb the beguiling innocence that hid the burning fire within.

Closing the door, unable to take his eyes from her, he moved slowly to where she stood. ‘Your sister-in-law told me it was time I retired.’

Shona looked up into his saturnine face, her lips forming a trembling smile. ‘And there’s no disobeying Carmelita. I feel like a wayward child who has just been sent to bed by a strict governess,’ she said with an awkward laugh.

‘The woman is an arrogant fool. You are no child, Shona—though more than a tad wayward,’ he said, giving the first carefree laugh Shona had heard from him all day.

In the pale light his sensual features were darkly handsome and she knew the desire in his eyes was mirrored unashamedly in her own.

He turned from her.

‘Please—look at me, Zack.’

She heard him groan softly. Slowly he turned back to her and saw the face of an enchanting temptress, with parted lips and eyes soft with promise. He touched her hair, wrapping a lock around his forefinger. ‘Such a colour,’ he murmured. ‘Golden like the sun and yet with a hint of fire.’

Shona stood in silent fascination, watching him as he removed his jacket and neckcloth and opened the front of his shirt. His body glowed with strength, energy and vigour. Her eyes took in the flexing iron-hard muscles of his wide shoulders, the broad chest, the lean belly and the length of his powerful legs. She could feel the warmth of his body close to hers as he stood looking down at her, and her whole being reached out to him, yearning for him to seize her, hold her and possess her.

As if he read her thoughts, taking her arms and pulling her close, Zack felt each curve of her young, supple body against him. The sudden, sharp coldness of the locket he wore around his neck made her gasp and draw back. Smiling an apology, he took it off and placed it on a small table beside the bed. Then slowly, gently, he slipped her nightgown down over one shoulder, so that first one breast, then the other appeared from beneath the concealing shadows of the garment and, little by little, the rest of her glowing flesh was revealed to him. The candlelight washed over her and there was the pungent smell of aromatic shrubs and trees outside.

His eyes caressed every curve of her body, every indentation of her skin, and his obvious delight in her sent the blood singing in his veins. She was offering herself to him and she was maddeningly desirable. His gaze was drawn to her trembling lips. Slowly, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his. He heard her sigh and, when he felt her arms tentatively reach up to rest on his shoulders, he deepened his kiss, thrusting gently into her mouth. His arms went around her then, his hands tracing her curves without volition.