The Scoundrel

…not talking anymore.

The silence felt somehow accusatory.

“Kiss me!” Sarah urged in a whisper.

Her command seemed nonsensical. Sarah was his friend. Sarah was reliable, schoolmarmish. She was not a woman to be kissed, especially by Daniel.

“You may now,” the minister intoned, “kiss your bride.”

A rustle swept through the church. Daniel had the sense this wasn’t the first time they’d heard that suggestion. People were waiting, wondering. In a minute, they’d be gossiping. He didn’t care about that, but he did care about Sarah.

Resolutely, he lifted his free hand. He cupped her chin, marveling briefly at the unexpected warmth of her skin. Then he lowered his head. A small kiss would do to seal their deal, to finalize their marriage and satisfy everyone gathered there. Most likely, Sarah dreaded this formality as much as he did. For her sake, he’d finish this kiss as quickly as possible.

His lips neared hers. An uncommon sensation seized him…something akin to anticipation but more muddled than that. His heart pounded. Sarah’s hand tautened in his. Quickly, quickly…

Something small and wet plinked his temple. Then his cheek. Then his temple again. Hastily, Daniel planted a kiss on Sarah’s waiting lips. That accomplished, he swung his face ’round to see what had struck him.

Eli sat, defiant and surly, with his fingers at his mouth to withdraw the next spitball.

“I’ll pound him,” Daniel growled.

“No, Daniel. Wait.” Sarah grabbed for him.

But she was too late. Daniel strode down the aisle after the miscreant boy. Widow Harrison took up a cheery tune at the piano. Everyone stood in their pews, looking confused. A scrabbling beneath one of the long wooden benches alerted Daniel to Eli’s position. Scowling fiercely, he hunkered down.

One long sweep of his arm retrieved Eli, squirming, from beneath the nearest pew. His small suit was covered in dust and torn bits of paper. His round face wore a mulish expression.

“I don’t care!” he said. “I got you fair and square.”

“Fair and square has nothing to do with this. I already told you, you had better beha—”

“You didn’t tell me anything!”

Sarah gave a startled sound. Daniel glanced at her, stranded beside the minister. Too late, he realized exactly what he’d done. Only two minutes married and already—one look at her face told him—he’d broken his promise to her. Judging by the narrowing of her eyes, she already had cause to regret their arrangement.

“Well,” Adam Crabtree said heartily, blundering into the awkward silence that followed, “I’d say congratulations are in order!”

As though his words were a signal, the other guests began milling around, talking. As Daniel attempted to glare Eli into behaving, Adam stepped nearer with the rest of his family in tow. Fiona and Molly dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs. Even stoic Grace looked a bit red around the nose. Although, Daniel reasoned, that might have had more to do with her dire views of marriage than with sentimentality.

Jack Murphy stepped nearer. “Shall we all toast the bride and groom?” he asked.

“Err…” Daniel glanced to Sarah, his grasp still firm on Eli. An ale sounded heartily good to him. But something told him that admitting as much wouldn’t be wise. His demure new bride looked fit to throttle him. Or at the least, to dump a pint on his head.

“Yes, indeed!” she announced. “An ale sounds fine!”

Sarah hitched up her gown. Then, with a tilt of her head, she swept past everyone assembled, headed back to the Crabtrees’ residence for the wedding reception. ’Twas the very last tack he would have expected her to take.

It was also his very first inkling that things might not go as he’d planned.

Most likely, though, Daniel comforted himself as he followed her with Eli dragging behind, this would be the last surprise Sarah dealt him. Between turning up beautiful—even temporarily—and ordering him to kiss her, she must have used up her ration of surprises. For a year, at least. She couldn’t possibly have more held in store for him.

But if she did, he vowed, he’d be sure to be ready.

Next time.

Chapter Four

J ust as Sarah was beginning to appreciate the fine qualities of a good ale, Daniel fisted his hand around her cup and took it away from her.

“I’d say you’ve had enough of that.”

Stupidly, she stared at the simple gold band adorning his hand. Although her brain commanded that she protest the loss of her ale, all she could do was stare. Stare at Daniel’s big, rough, wonderful hand, so familiar and yet so changed. It was hers now, in a sense. Just as he was.

They were married. Well and truly married. Or at least they were, provided Daniel’s hasty kiss had correctly sealed their union. Everyone had seemed to consider that meager peck to be adequate. Privately, Sarah had hoped for so much more.

“I have not had enough,” she informed him. “Of ale or of kissing.”

He arched a dark brow. Drat it. Had she said that aloud?

It didn’t matter. Daniel was her husband now. He deserved her uncensored opinions. In fact, her freethinking sister Grace would have encouraged as much. Aside from which, Sarah felt certain that kissing and ale must both hold pleasures she’d missed until now. From here on, she was determined to miss nothing more.

She shook off her reverie to reach, unsuccessfully, for her cup. “You’ve had four ales. That’s only my second cup. Next to you, I’m a paragon of sobriety.”

“That might be true. I am a scoundrel.” Cheerfully, Daniel admitted the truth. “A slightly drunk one, in honor of the occasion.”

He smiled at that, leaving her to wonder if he felt happy to be married or merely giddy at the prospect of not having to scrub behind Eli’s ears anymore. Probably the latter, Sarah mused. She frowned. Making a proper and loving husband of Daniel McCabe would prove a challenge, to be sure.

“But I’m not the one who’s been dancing, now, am I?” An unaccountable glimmer lit Daniel’s brown eyes as he settled on the divan beside her. “With arm waving and skirt swinging and…what did you call that thing you were doing?”

“A fan dance.” If he’d noticed that, she was making progress already. Heartened, Sarah leaned nearer. None too subtly, she whispered, “It’s used for seduction.”

“Seduction?” Her new bridegroom nearly choked on his next mouthful of ale. “What in God’s name does a woman like you need seduction for? You’re a mother now. And a wife.”

Daft man. As if that summed her up in any way.

“I learned it from Molly.” Sarah gave a blithe wave. “She had plans to become a gypsy once, you know. Before she opened her bakery. She can tell fortunes, too.”

Daniel seemed unimpressed by her sister’s versatility. “She doesn’t need any of that now. She’s a wife, too.”

He said it as though that settled everything.

“Marcus doesn’t mind Molly’s interests.” Offering Daniel a nudge, Sarah nodded to her sister and her husband. “He loves her just as she is. See?”

At the other end of the Crabtrees’ parlor, Molly and Marcus engaged in conversation, smiling at each other. Unabashedly affectionate in spite of the family and friends gathered around, Marcus took Molly’s hand and cradled it to his chest. He listened, then laughed at something she said. They both fairly glowed with happiness.

Seeing their togetherness, Sarah couldn’t help but feel wistful. What was the matter with her, that her sister could make an effortlessly perfect love match, while she…she endured spitballs at her own nuptials?

Perhaps this was what came of marrying too quickly. And for all the wrong reasons. And to a man who did not know she was just the merest bit—desperately—in love with him.