“What do you propose we do?” Carefully she controlled her voice so that it sounded cool and businesslike. She found herself looking at him with personal eyes, feeling a shock at discovering that he was so very attractive, that she could like him if only he were not so cold and withdrawn.
“After our marriage I’ll take you to meet my father. This marriage will make two fathers happy, yours and mine. My father is eighty-four years old. I am the result of his one and only love affair. He married late in life and he wants to see me happily married before I reach middle age. This is very important to him and I insist he be made to believe my marriage is as happy and fulfilling for me as his was for him. We will spend a few days with him after the wedding and give him the impression that we enjoy a normal, loving marriage. Afterwards, when the time comes for the annulment, if my father is still living, we will simply tell him the marriage didn’t work out. I don’t believe he will ever have to be told since at present his health is so poor.”
Adam leaned back on the couch watching her all the time. His expression was as unreadable as ever. His thoughts raced ahead to the time he would present his wife to his father. She would be perfect for the part. The inscrutable mask of his expression broke slightly, one dark brow lifted, and his dark eyes glinted with amusement.
“Do you think you can comply with the terms?”
“Terms?” She gave him a startled look.
“Can you pretend to be in love with me?”
Surprise made the color come quickly back to her face. She didn’t dare look at him. Instead she stared down at her hands clenched in her lap. Inwardly she quaked and shrank from the thought of deceiving an old man—but so much was at stake!
“Would it be so hard to do?” There was a tight smile on his mouth, and Molly thought she could hear a trace of a challenge in his voice.
There was a shocking little silence, and it seemed to drag on for hours before she could say anything. Finally, the violet eyes looked directly into the pitless dark ones and she said in a low voice:
“The terms are . . . acceptable.”
“Good.” He got to his feet. “Now, I’d like to see your father’s study and look over the place where I’ll spend the next year of my life.”
Molly said nothing, but led the way to her father’s combination study and bedroom.
The house had originally been built of rough logs, but in later years insulation and an inner wall had been added. One side of the square cabin was taken up with living room and kitchen; the two bedrooms and bath were in the other half. The elimination of a hall was due to difficulty in heating. Charlie’s bedroom door opened off the living room and Molly’s from the kitchen. The doors were left open most of the time to allow the heat to circulate. The bath between the two bedrooms had doors opening into each. Later a small room had been added in connection with her father’s to accommodate a guest that came from time to time to help him with some phase of his work.
Adam looked around the room. It was large; desk, files, and bookshelves on one side, the bed, chest, and closets on the other. The room had been carpeted for extra warmth, but still had a fur rug by the bed, which Adam was glad to see was rather large. A round, potbellied stove sat in one corner of the room. He looked at it and grimaced, thinking about his centrally heated apartment in Anchorage.
“It keeps the room quite warm,” Molly said rather stiffly. “You’ll be glad it’s here when it gets down to twenty-five degrees below zero.”
She opened the door to show him the guest room. It was furnished with a single bed and chest. “We keep the door closed when it’s not in use.”
Opening the door to the bathroom, she went in and closed the door going into her bedroom.
“The bathroom is modern except for running hot water. We carry the hot water from the reservoir in the kitchen range. This room stays warm enough if we leave the bedroom doors open part of the time.” She led the way out, not offering to show him her room.
In the living room she went to stand before the fireplace. “Tim-Two, my father’s employee and friend, lives in the cabin behind the house. He’s lived here longer than I have and he’ll stay. I’ll pay his wages out of the allowance Herb will give me for living expenses.”
Adam smiled at this show of independence.
“Very well. What does Tim-Two do around here to earn wages?”
“He keeps the stoves and the fireplace supplied with wood, and the reservoir full. He plants a garden in the summer and furnishes us with fresh meat and fish. I would trust him with my life and I intend to keep him here with me . . . always.” She looked at him defiantly, as if daring him to challenge her authority where Tim-Two was concerned.
Adam, reading her mind more accurately than she realized, elevated that black brow again.
“You think you’ll need protection from me?”
“Of course not,” she denied hastily.
“Let me assure you that I have no intention of raping you. I’ve never taken an unwilling woman to bed; not even a willing one that didn’t know the score. Your virginity is safe with me until the time you wish to give it freely.”
For one heart-stopping moment Molly stood there, her face scarlet. The violet eyes were bright with humiliation—but even as he watched, she bit her lips viciously and answered in the type of voice he had become used to hearing from her. Her rigid control, for the first time, began to intrigue him.
“I never, for one minute, considered myself in any danger from you, Mr. Reneau.”
“In that case shall we consider the matter settled . . . Molly?” He said her name hesitantly and it sounded strange coming from his lips. “It’ll seem rather strange if we keep up this formal mode of addressing each other after we are married.”
She nodded.
The dark brows jerked upward in obvious mocking amusement and one hand came out, his fingers lifting her chin. He looked, laughingly, into her eyes.
“Say, ‘yes Adam.’”
Molly looked into the dark eyes. They were friendly. The face was not quite so dark and forbidding, and the grim mouth tilted into a smile. Before she could help herself she said, “Yes, Adam.”
He turned from her, putting his hands in his pockets, all business once more.
“We’ll be married a week from today, spend some time with my dad, and come back here. I’ll make the arrangements in town.”
With that short pronouncement he went to the door and called Herb.
When the men left an hour later, the plans for the wedding had been made. Evelyn was staying the week with Molly, and Jim would come for them the day before the ceremony to give them time to do some shopping. Herb furnished Molly with an allowance check and assured her that he would take care of the legal documents. Molly insisted that a contract be drawn up between herself and Adam relieving him of any financial obligation to her. When Herb commenced to argue the legality of such a contract, Adam silently shook his head, and he let the matter drop.
The Robinsons had been sworn to secrecy. To all appearances, Molly and Adam had met a year ago and fell in love. The ceremony, which would have taken place at Christmas, had been moved ahead due to Charlie’s death.
Everything had moved so quickly that Molly found herself too tired to think about all that had happened to her in the last few days. Her brain was crowded with a jumble of thoughts and impressions. Finally she concentrated on only one of the thoughts. She was not going to have to leave her home and for that she was thankful.
A
WEEK LATER
they were married in a small church in Anchorage. Adam insisted on the church service, saying his father would frown on a civil ceremony in a public building. There was no long white dress and no virginal white veil to trail Molly as she walked down the aisle toward the dark-browed man who was her father’s choice for her husband. She wore a simple gray suit and a small matching hat and carried a single white rose that Evelyn thrust into her hand at the last moment. As she walked down the narrow aisle she noticed the church was decorated with vases of sweet-smelling flowers. She smiled as she recognized Evelyn’s touch. This was her only act of unspoken rebellion against the unwanted marriage that had been forced upon her friend.
Molly was deeply grateful to her for her unquestioning cooperation and for the way she had strived to hide her deep misgivings.
The ceremony was short and simple and seemed like a dream to Molly. Firmly she had refused the minister’s plans for having the church vocalist sing the traditional songs, which she felt would be meaningless for this occasion. Adam stood by the altar waiting for her as she walked toward him on the arm of Herb Belsile. She made her responses in a low voice, not daring to look at Adam, whose responses were strong and steady. When he slid the ring on her finger, her heart gave a sudden jolt at the contact of his firm fingers. She tried to draw her hand away, but he held it firmly and refused to let it go. He was still holding it when they walked out of the church.
Molly sat looking at the brand new wedding ring on her finger. A band of gold with diamonds encircling it. The beauty of it filled her with panic. This was the tie that bound her to Adam Reneau. She stole a side glance at him as he sat at the wheel of the big car, his face composed, concentrating on weaving in and out of the heavy traffic of Anchorage. He was so still, so withdrawn. Panic rose up in her, and she felt as if she were going to faint. She opened the window of the car and let the cool breeze hit her face, taking deep gulps of the air trying to alleviate the suffocating sensation that clutched her throat. With determined effort she pushed all unpleasant thoughts out of her mind. She would take one thing at a time. First, she must get through the reception and the meeting with Aunt Dora and her cousins. She would think of nothing else.
Adam said nothing on the short drive. As he turned the car into the hotel parking lot, he glanced at her and noticed her slight pallor.
“You’re tired.” His low voice was mixed with surprise and concern. “You’re tired and frightened. Is it the reception or the meeting with my father that’s bothering you?”
His nearness and the sudden unaccustomed tenderness in his soft voice was nearly her undoing. Her breath caught in her throat. She admitted to herself the knowledge that she had been fighting. She had felt a strange physical attraction for him. She closed her eyes. He must never suspect that she felt any warming toward him. That would be fatal.
“It’s Aunt Dora and my cousins, Dee and Donna,” she blurted out suddenly. She twisted the white rose she still held in her hands and refused to look at him.
“Dee and Donna Ballintine are your cousins?”
She nodded.
He raised her hand and looked at the ring on her finger. “Do you like the ring?”
Again she nodded her head.
“Are you never going to talk to your husband?” Gentle fingers brought her chin around and she looked into laughing dark eyes. She smiled back into them and started to shake her head. They both laughed.
“That’s better.” He still had a firm hold on her chin. “Let me worry about the Ballintine girls and Aunt Dora . . . okay?”
The dark eyes so close to hers were looking intently at her face; the golden hair, the creamy skin, the soft mouth. She felt a trembling in him where her shoulder rested against his chest. His fingers caressed her cheek and he said in a voice not quite so firm and controlled: “Do you think the groom could kiss the bride on her wedding day?” He touched her cheek coaxingly, and drew his finger to the corner of her mouth. It was a truly lovely mouth.
“You shouldn’t . . . !” The breath was leaving her.
“I’m going to.” He laughed softly and deeply.
He seemed to hesitate, then leaned nearer and laid his lips very gently against hers. It was a light kiss, but Molly’s heart stopped for a moment and then raced ahead furiously. He released her and she looked into his dark eyes. They were no longer laughing.
It was in something of a daze that Molly got out of the car and walked with him across the parking lot toward the hotel. She wore only a light coat over her wedding suit and she shivered in the brisk late September wind that blew into Anchorage from the mountains. She was glad to leave the car, to get away from the destructive intimacy she had shared with her new husband.
Husband?
she thought desperately.
A man who was forced to marry me, who kissed me because he thought I wanted him to, and God help me, I did want him to. Husband . . . in name only, and I must not forget it. I won’t forget it!
It was a small reception, arranged by Adam, and catered by the hotel. A number of guests were standing by the buffet tables drinking champagne and talking. A toast was made to the bride and groom. Adam introduced her to some of his friends and she suffered through such remarks as, “Your bride is beautiful, Adam . . . where did you find such a lovely creature? . . . You sly dog, you, where’ve you been hiding her?” It went on and on. Herb, Jim, and Evelyn were the only people in the room Molly knew. Adam stayed by her side and after several gulps of champagne she began to feel a little light-headed and was glad for the supporting hand under her arm.
“Your aunt, Mrs. Ballintine, has arrived.”
“Aunt Dora?” she said nervously.
Molly cast Adam a startled glance before looking toward the door and her aunt. Dora Ballintine drew her mink stole around her thin shoulders as she came across the room to greet her niece. A large, expensive hat sat atop her blue-tinted gray hair. Her ankle-length matching dress was flattering to her still girlish figure. Everything about Aunt Dora had to be perfect and it usually was. She swooped forward and kissed Molly on her cheek.
“Well, Molly! So you are married,” she exclaimed so everyone in the room couldn’t possibly help but hear her. “It must have been sudden. You didn’t mention it at the service for poor Charlie.”
“Hello, Aunt Dora,” Molly said calmly. “I’d like you to meet Adam.”
“I know Adam. I certainly do.” She turned accusing eyes on him. “We didn’t know you knew our little country relative, Adam. I must say, Donna was terribly . . . surprised.”