Mysterious Vows. Cassie Miles
and cheap.
Chip was still asking his questions. His voice droned. He touched her forearm. “Maria?”
She jerked away from him. “I am not well,” she said. “I must lie down.”
“But I have a few more questions.”
“Not now.” Quietly she rose and slipped away, finding the small room where she had awakened before the ceremony. She closed the door and went to the window. Beyond a stand of coastal pines, she saw the shimmer of sunlight on water. The Atlantic Ocean was her horizon and her boundary. After everyone else left, she would be isolated on this island. With Jason.
“Maria?” Alice opened the door. “Are you all right? Um, cómo está usted?”
Maria shook her head. The dull aching was back. She sank to the floor beside the window. One hand reached up, rested on the sill, grasping toward freedom. How could she have sold herself? She was so ashamed. No wonder her mind had blanked out the past.
Alice sat on the wingback chair near her. “You’re homesick, aren’t you? Oh, Maria, I wish I could help you.”
But would she? Would Alice help her escape? It seemed doubtful. Alice was Jason’s sister. Her first loyalty would be to him.
“You’re very brave,” Alice said. “I don’t think I could do what you’ve done. Leaving my home and all. You must have been desperate to escape your country.”
Desperate to escape? Yes, Maria thought, I am desperate.
“But you’re very lucky,” Alice said. “Sometimes Jason behaves like a gruff old pelican, but he has a kind heart. And I do believe you will be good for him. After his first wife Elena died...well, he was devastated. I never thought he would marry again. He nursed her all by himself, you know. After the doctors had diagnosed her cancer and said it was hopeless, Jason took care of her—all alone—for months on this island.”
Maria imagined the horror of being trapped here. Dying and imprisoned on a cold island in Maine. Had his first wife been a mail-order bride? “Elena?”
“She looked a little like you. The long, black hair. She was Spanish, too.” Alice gave a little frown. “Well, I’m sure you don’t understand a word of what I’m saying here. I wish I could reassure you, but I guess that’s up to Jason. Now, do you want to lie down for a moment? Or should we cut the cake?”
The door swung wide and Jason maneuvered his way inside. Maria looked at him with new eyes. The tension around his mouth indicated to her that he was holding back his pain. His leg must be bothering him. He didn’t seem like a cruel man, but he was angry. It was strange, she thought, that she could read his emotions more easily than she could understand what was going on inside her own head.
“Leave us, Alice.”
“All righty. But I insist that the both of you come out here and cut the cake. Then the basic ceremonial duties are over, and Maria can rest.”
“We’ll be there shortly,” he said.
Alice left, and he crossed the room. His strides were labored. “Maria, you’ve got to be careful. These people may seem harmless, but we can’t tell. We can’t trust anyone. Not even the reverend.”
She stood, but kept close to the window, as far away from him as possible. Was the danger from other people? Or from him? He was the man who had bought her. Pure rage burned within her, hotter than a forge, but she tempered her emotions. Whatever Jason had done, she’d allowed it. My God, what had happened to her? What insane reasoning had led her to this point? “How could I have gone through with this?”
“What are you talking about?”
He reached for her, and she pulled away. Lithely she darted beyond his arm’s reach.
“Leave me alone,” she said. Her words were English. “Don’t touch me.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
But he already had. He had taken her name and her freedom. Though she’d agreed, though she had voluntarily repeated her vows before witnesses, the wedding was a sham. She glared defiantly. “You may have bought a mail-order bride, but I’ll never be your wife.”
“What the hell are you—” He took a step toward her, then stopped. “Never mind. Just come out here, cut the damned cake and let’s be done with this charade.”
“This charade, as you call it, is what you want,” she snapped. “This was your idea.”
“The hell it was. If I had my choice, I wouldn’t be here. Pretending.” He tapped his cane impatiently. “I’m not good at espionage.”
“Espionage?” She switched to Spanish again. This was dangerous. She needed to keep her guard up. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. You convinced Chip Harrington with that wide-eyed innocent act of yours. But you don’t have to trick me. I know the truth.”
“How dare you speak of truth!” It was all a lie. Every word, every gesture. He had contrived to bring her here, to keep her isolated on the island. “Will you force me to stay here?”
“Yes,” he said. “Until I receive different orders, you will stay with me.”
He went to the door and rested his hand on the knob. “We’ll cut the cake, then send everyone home. Pretend that you’re happy, my dear little bride.”
“Never. I will ask the reverend to take me back to—” To where? Where was home? “To a safe place.”
“I don’t know what Chip told you, but you’ve got it wrong, Maria. This island is your safety.” The hard expression in his eyes precluded further discussion. “You will do as I say.”
She could stand and fight, here and now, with little chance of winning. The wedding guests were all Jason’s friends. They would think she had a case of nerves. “Poor thing,” they would say, “she’s homesick.” And she did feel ill. She was weak. Her headache drummed in the back of her head. The muscles in her shoulders and back were taut.
“Maria,” he said. “I’m waiting.”
Later, she promised herself. Later, she would find a way off this cold island. She would regain her freedom.
With her head held high, she went toward him. He offered his arm, and she lightly rested her fingertips on his forearm. His nearness should have repulsed her. Instead she shivered with a purely sensual pleasure. His touch aroused her. Why did she find him so attractive? She should have seen cruelty in his arrogant profile, but instead she saw handsome, chiseled features. The very scent of him excited her. Perhaps she had lost her sense of reasoning along with her memory.
When they left the parlor and went toward the large dining room, the other people seemed dangerous to her. How could she tell what was right, what was safe? Their eyes, as they looked at her, seemed intrusive. Their voices grated on her ears.
“Smile, Maria,” Jason whispered.
Automatically her lips responded.
He led her to a table, to the three-tier wedding cake, and he lifted the knife. He prepared to make the first slice, but Alice stopped him. “You’re doing it wrong,” she said. “Both of you are supposed to hold the knife.”
He took her hand and placed it atop his. His flesh was warm, she thought, and hers was cold. Muerte. Cold as death. She must get away from this island where there was danger all around her, stealing her memories. But where would she go? Who could she turn to when she couldn’t remember her name or what had happened to her?
Her gaze focused on the miniature couple that stood atop the cake. Maria never thought her wedding day would be frightening and joyless.
They sliced the cake.
She tasted the sugary chocolate on her tongue as Jason held a piece of cake to her mouth,