Mysterious Vows

“Prove your words.” He caught hold of her arm. His grip was fierce and overpowering. “Kiss me now, Maria. Without passion. Without arousal.”

She stared into his storm-gray eyes. Part of her accepted his challenge. To kiss without excitement? Certainly she could do so. She had reason to believe that Jason was her enemy. Hadn’t he taken advantage of her already? Hadn’t he made her his mail-order bride? The very idea infuriated her. There was no sensible rationale for why a modern woman should have to barter with her heart. Not even to obtain freedom from an oppressed country. Her lips curled in a sneer. “You don’t excite me.”

“We’ll see.”

A part of her conscious mind wanted to kiss him because she remembered the pleasure of the first time. Of all her scant memories to be etched in vivid detail, that was the strongest. A kiss.

“Show me,” he said.

Standing close to him, she lowered her eyelids and lifted her chin. The light pressure of his mouth on hers was pleasant, but not overwhelming. She gritted her teeth, unwilling to show him that she enjoyed the contact.

His hand glided down her arm, leaving a trail of shivering sensation. He took her hand and placed it against his chest. Through the soft, white cotton of his shirt, she could feel warm flesh and the drumming of his heart.

His tongue flicked lightly across the surface of her lips. He kissed her cheekbone, her closed eyelids. He found her earlobe and nibbled.

She groaned with pleasure. This felt so indescribably right. His touch aroused her in ways that were uncontrollable. In the midst of her confusion she needed to cling to him. Her arms encircled him and she fitted her body against his. Her back arched as he nuzzled her throat.

Again he kissed her full on the mouth, and she surrendered to an explosion of desire that blanked her mind and erased any thought, except of him. Pure, tingling delight flamed within her. When he separated from her, she felt dazed.

“Are you all right, Maria?”

“I’m...” She fanned herself with her hand; struggled to regain her self-control. “I’m a little hot.”

“Don’t play with fire, lady. Or else you’ll be burned.”

As he moved slowly away from her, she felt annoyed with herself. And with him. He had no right to test these boundaries, wedding or not. And she had no business responding. Was this attraction the danger she feared so deeply?

Despite her brave thoughts, her voice stammered as she said, “I—I’m still locking my room.”

“Fine. All I promised was that you’d have a room to work and that you would be cared for. I’ll bring you a late dinner after the guests have left.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Later tonight, you will be.”

Before he closed the door he shot her a smoldering glance that, indeed, fueled her hunger. She was like a starving person, ravenous for his embrace, for the feel of his body against hers. The taste of him lingered on her lips. She craved his touch, the flames he kindled within her. Though she looked away, his gaze was branded in the forefront of her mind.

The door closed with a click.

She could not stay here. If she allowed herself to be consumed by this inappropriate desire for a stranger, she would never escape, would never learn of her own life. She needed to concentrate, to remove her mind from thoughts of Jason and imaginings of how it would be to make love with him.

Love? What could she know about love? She was a mail-order bride. Love was not a requirement for this position.

In her closed fist she still clutched the balled-up scrap of paper. Was it a clue? She unfolded the edges and read the words scrawled in Spanish. “You are in danger. Look in the bedside table.”

She pulled open the drawer of the small oak table. Inside was a package of tissues, a sachet of fragrant potpourri, and a gun.

* * *

JASON AVOIDED the wedding revelries that had taken over the lower floor of his house and went to his office where he tried once again to reach his source by telephone. Fifteen rings. No answer.

“Damn.” He’d been told that Maria would stay with him, assume his name and slide unnoticed into the bureaucracy. He had all the necessary documentations and certifications, including a couple of fake identity papers in case they needed them immediately. None of the papers had a photograph. As far as he knew, there were no pictures of this woman.

With any luck, according to plan, she would attain U.S. citizenship before anyone was wise to the fact that Maria Ramos Hernandez was the real name of the fiery journalist, Juana Sabbatta.

Jason had promised that he would marry her. He would give her his name as protection and would keep her safely hidden away on remote Passaquoit Island.

The plan had seemed fairly simple, but he needed contact with his source. Maria was a handful. Not at all what he had expected. Her beauty surprised him less than her diffident attitude. Not that he wanted her to fawn on him and lavish him with praise, but a simple “thank you” would have been nice.

“Damn the difficult woman!”

Rising from the chair behind his desk, he noticed that his right desk drawer was slightly ajar. Though this room had not been locked, the door was closed. Had someone been in here? One of the wedding guests?

The desk drawer glided open when he pulled. Inside, all his papers were in order. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

He closed the drawer with a snap. His instincts warned him that something was wrong. Though he might have left the drawer open himself or Alice might have been in here, he didn’t trust simple explanations.

He reached beneath the middle drawer of his desk. On the right side, far enough back to be hidden from view, was the compartment he had built himself. The wood felt smooth and cold to the touch. The compartment was empty. His Beretta was missing.

A dark tension clenched his gut. Trust no one. Danger was everywhere. Though his instructions had been to arrange a typical wedding ceremony, it might have been a mistake to allow all these people onto the island.

Quickly he went to the locked cabinet at the rear of his office. He had other guns, mostly rifles. He took out a flat automatic pistol, checked the clip, then slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. Maria! He had to get back to her!

Surely no one would be fool enough to harm her while all these witnesses were present in the house. But he couldn’t be sure. He had to protect her, against her will, if necessary. Jason took a key chain from his desk drawer. There was scant safety in locked doors, but the locks would, at least, be an obstacle.

Armed and alert to danger, he paused outside his office to lock the door. His first goal was to get everyone off the island as soon as possible. Once he and Maria were here alone, he could protect her more thoroughly. This house was a fortress, built to withstand the battering winds off the northern Atlantic.

He hobbled up the staircase again to the second floor. Looking down the length of the wide hallway lined with oil paintings of Wentworths and Walkers, he saw that the door to her bedroom was standing open. Was he already too late? If anything had happened to her...

His fingers closed around the handle of the pistol. Moving stealthily, masking the tap of his cane against the hardwood floor, he approached her room. He heard the murmur of voices. Then there was a lilting sound, delicate as wind chimes. Maria’s laughter. He had never heard her laugh before.

With his hand still on his pistol, Jason stepped around the doorframe. The scene that confronted him appeared innocent enough. Maria, radiantly beautiful in her wedding gown, sat in a chair by the window. In the opposite chair was Reverend Wally Blaylock, chattering away in Spanish. He waved to Jason. “Come on in. I was just warning Maria about shopping in the local market where the citrus fruit is never quite perfect but the berries are marvelous. And never buy frozen lobster in Maine. They need to be fresh and live, even if they are difficult to control.” He glanced at Maria. “I had the creatures all over the back of my van.”

She smiled brightly, and Jason thought her happiness was a wonderful sight. The sparkle in her eyes captured the essence of sunlight shimmering on clear waters. He wished, someday, that she might look upon him with a smile in her eyes. But for now... “I’m surprised, Wally,” Jason said. “I didn’t know you were so fluent in Spanish.”

“I’d hardly call myself fluent. But I did spend several years as a missionary in Latin American countries. I was even in Guermina for a while.” He reached over and patted Maria’s knee. “Your homeland is very wonderful.”

Jason felt an irrational surge of jealousy. Wally Blaylock was a reverend, not a priest. He was unmarried, and he was flirting with Maria. “Wally, what are you doing here?”

“I came to say goodbye to the bride. I’m heading back to the mainland and taking the majority of your guests with me on the big boat.” He rose to his feet and beamed down at Maria. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Gracias.”

Jason stepped aside so the reverend could leave the room.

“And you,” the reverend said to Jason. “You be sure to bring this young woman into town. Stuck out here on the island, Maria could die of boredom.”

Alone again, Jason closed the door. “I thought you were ill?”