Mishap Marriage (11 page)

The fierceness of his wanting her startled him. He wanted to fill his mouth with the taste of her, to span that impossibly narrow waist with his hands and draw those inviting hips beneath him, to have those long, lithe legs wrapped around him, to bury himself in her silky sweetness.

Somehow he found himself leading her to the bed and lowering her down on to the mattress so that she was lying beneath him. He hovered over her. All he could see was the quiver of her tantalising mouth urging him to kiss her into dazed insensibility. He was aware that the days of being around her, of wanting her, of self-denial and frustration, were in danger of driving him beyond restraint. Her appearance was a striking contrast between angelic and wanton. One part of him wanted nothing to do with her. Another wanted to punish her for bringing him to such a pass. And yet another—by far the greatest part—wanted to take her in his arms and awaken all the exquisite, undiscovered passion in her lovely body.

The mere sight of her aroused carnal feelings in him that he had no business feeling since he meant to leave her, so whatever happened he must not take his fill of her. He could not afford to father another child out of wedlock. But a kiss, a caress—a memory to take with him from Santamaria to warm his empty bed on the long voyage back to England.

‘I know this is insane,’ he said hoarsely.

‘No, it isn’t,’ she whispered, caressing his lips with her own. ‘It’s perfectly normal for a husband to want to make love to his wife.’

She drew a quick breath as his hands slid upwards to cup her breasts. His touch was incredibly sensual, and as he filled his hands with her breasts, a quiver built deep in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back.

He heard the soft sound and his eyes flared with silver lights. ‘Wife,’ he murmured. The word was a mere whisper and lost as he slowly leaned forward to press his lips against her neck, his arousing fingers caressing her nipples. If only it were possible for him to experience the full depth of pleasure between a man and a woman before the night was over.

‘Aren’t you going to remove your clothes?’ she asked, reaching up and gently caressing his face, aching with unfulfilled need.

Zack was aware of her need. The quick rise and fall of her breasts, her shallow breathing, the fast beating of her heart—all told him. Her trembling innocence was incredibly erotic. Lowering his body so that he was kneeling between her thighs, he lowered his head to scatter hot, open-mouthed kisses over the taut skin of her belly.

Shocked to the core, Shona had no idea how to respond to his attentions. She lay there, open to him, taut and trembling, and when he kissed her lips again, she instinctively reached up to curl her fingers in his hair. He was stirring such sensations in her—desire and heat and staggering pleasure. Feeling the chafing of his shirt against her flesh, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘take off your shirt.’

Her softly spoken words brought him to his senses. Recollecting himself, he gently pushed away her outstretched arms and stood up. ‘Forgive me, Shona. I must leave you a moment.’

Shona experienced a moment’s panic. ‘You will come back?’

Knowing her world was about to be ripped apart, that he was powerless to prevent the disgrace and disaster soon to descend on her, and consumed with guilt, Zack suddenly looked away.

‘Of course you will. I trust you.’ She sighed, drawing the coverlet up to her chin.

Feeling profoundly wretched he closed his eyes tight for a moment, having to fight the temptation to go back to her. He couldn’t believe he was letting the chance to make love to this beautiful woman slip through his fingers. Leaving the rosy figure stretched out upon the bed, shrugging on his coat, he strode to the door. He placed something on her dressing table before he went out and vanished into the darkness of the house.

Chapter Six

S
hona heard Zack’s footsteps grow fainter. Snuggling into her pillows, she waited, fully expecting him to return.

But he didn’t return. Feeling bereft, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor and looked around the room. A gentle breeze blowing in through the open balcony windows stirred the curtains. On a sigh she stood up and went to her dressing table. That was the moment when her eyes lighted on the letter propped up against the mirror.

Tentatively she reached out and picked it up, looking at it curiously, suddenly reluctant to open it, for she feared the contents. She was right to, for in his bold hand, Zack had written down what he’d not had the courage to say to her face. In stunned silence she read how their marriage was a sham, the curate an actor playing a part. The words puzzled her. None of it made sense to her just then. The only thing that penetrated her mind was that Zack had left her and he was not coming back.

Seeing the locket, she picked it up, the silver chain sliding through her fingers. She looked at it for what seemed an age before she had the courage to snap it open. Inside was a single lock of dark brown hair. A lump of unexplained emotion suddenly appeared in her throat. Whoever it had belonged to the woman must mean a great deal to Zack for him to carry a lock of her hair. Who was she?

Thrusting the note and the locket away from her, still Shona waited, thinking—hoping—desperately he might return when he realised he had left the locket behind. In front of her the sight of her rumpled sheets reminded her of him. All her emotions surged and eddied in her mind. The union she had dreamed of had never happened. The delight she had envisioned during the magic of preparing for bed had been but a mirage. In vain she fought to control the tears that threatened to brim and flow down her cheeks.

She had thought they had overcome the bitter recriminations that had beset their relationship in the beginning. All her hopes and dreams of weaving lovely threads into their marriage, the love and the trust that would come with knowledge of each other, the delight and laughter, the companionship, the stability, reliability, comfort and trust which would be theirs to last a lifetime, were shattered in a moment. It was unprecedented, unmatched and hopeless. Zack’s desertion had exploded the very roots of the life she had hoped they would build together. She felt she might wither away and die, like a flower that is left unprotected in the hot sun. She held herself tightly, arms locked about her breast, for if she did not keep a firm grip on herself she would scream. She quite simply could not stand the pain.

Control shattered with full realisation. He wasn’t coming back. Zachariah Fitzgerald had gone, fleeing the wreck that he had brought about. Now she, Shona, must think what to do about the disaster he had left behind. A blurred vision of her face in the mirror across the room struck her, tore at the very fabric of her soul, the treacherous catalyst being her lips still swollen from his kisses. The girl in the mirror stiffened and stared at herself as the tears ran down her face. The precious spark of life left the parted lips and the hurt and questioning set in.

Through the vision her own rage took form and grew. She fought for control and won. The woman in front of her changed, stared back at her with tight, angry eyes.
What had Zack Fitzgerald done to her? What had she allowed him to do to her? She was Shona McKenzie, the most sought-after young woman in the Caribbean.
She squared her shoulders, trying to convince the woman in the mirror.
Who does he think he is?
The woman in the mirror stared coldly back at her.
Zack Fitzgerald was a domineering, stubborn, ill-bred blackguard.

It took a moment to convince herself that she was not trapped in some bad dream, but as her power of thought returned she tried to sort out her situation, but this only left her feeling bitter. She had been living in a sort of trance all these past few days, ever since the moment, in fact, when Zack had first stepped on to the island. And now the return to reality left an ashen taste in her mouth. When she thought of Zack Fitzgerald, a flush of shame and anger left her crimson and she was even more angry with herself.

Brushing back the long gold tresses from her face, she dressed and left the house.

* * *

The hour was late when she entered the town and, slowing her horse’s pace, passed through the streets like a wraith. The tropic night was warm and still. The moon was high in a cloudless sky. Its brilliant light eclipsed the stars. Flooding the scene, it splashed the ground ahead of her with patches of silver between the stark black shadows of lounging sailors on the quay and threw their features into stark relief. Apart from raucous laughter coming from the taverns around the harbour, it was quiet. She looked towards the pier. As she expected the
Ocean Pearl
had left her moorings. Shifting her gaze to the mouth of the cove, in the moon’s silver glow she watched the ship head for the open sea.

A quiet, cold anger stirred in her breast.
This is not over, Zack Fitzgerald,
she vowed
. This changes nothing. I am still your wife. I shall give you no respite.
One day you will come to repent what you have done.
A fierce desire for revenge had suddenly taken hold of her. In truth, her feelings towards Zachariah Fitzgerald were complex. She desired him and hated him at the same time, this man who had so coldly and unhesitatingly entered into what he’d believed was a bogus marriage, gone wild with passion in her arms and then left her.

His tortured face when he had left her awoke a streak of malicious glee in Shona. By the time she had finished, he would realise that pride did not solve everything or protect him from everything.

* * *

As soon as Zack stepped aboard, amid soft commands the sails were unfurled, the anchor raised. Soon a freshening breeze was licking at Zack’s face and the
Ocean Pearl
was ploughing onwards. He bent his neck around and watched as the lights of Santamaria began to fade from view. At last he had escaped the island. He tried to follow his standard policy of never looking back where females were concerned, but Shona McKenzie was not so easily forgotten. In spite of himself he brooded on how she had looked when he had left her, how her lovely face had been flushed with passion. Though he had gone through the sham ceremony without expression, he could not escape the guilty sense that he was abandoning her to a life of loneliness on Santamaria, much like a pirate abandoning one of his crew on a deserted island for some nefarious misdeed.

Don’t think about her,
he told himself. She was tough. Life was tough. Shona McKenzie would survive. When they’d been together she’d told him she trusted him. Inwardly he scoffed at the words.
Trust!
By now she would have read his note and would share his opinion that he was an all-round bastard.

His mind went back to their meeting in the creek which had precipitated this mess. He was unable to shake off the image of the tempestuous beauty as she had strenuously attempted to defend herself, to deny that she had deliberately set out to deceive him. The picture branded itself on his mind along with a voice that shook with emotion. She had actually looked and sounded as if she meant every single thing she’d said to him.

His fingers shook as they brushed his hair from his brow. Dear God, she was a superb actress, but she had failed to pull this particular act off. Or she’d been innocent of deviousness all along and it was her sister-in-law who had masterminded the plot all alone to get rid of her.

Zack hesitated uneasily and then coldly rejected the possibility. Had Shona been innocent of deviousness she would have tried harder to defend herself instead of going along with her brother and forcing the marriage. She was just a woman and women were all alike. She could be forced from his mind. He had never known one who couldn’t be.

Closing his mind and hardening his heart, thinking of his daughter, he fixed his eyes on the unforgiving sea.

* * *

When Shona emerged from her room the following morning, she felt as though she had been born anew as a result of some painful and unaccustomed new process of gestation. Very little remained of the innocent young Shona McKenzie who had plunged headlong with such blind stupidity into the arms of Zachariah Fitzgerald. Now her only feeling was anger, an anger that nothing but vengeance could assuage.

In the midst of the ruins she was alone. Of her world, the world of her childhood, nothing remained. Her home and all her most cherished illusions had been destroyed the moment Zachariah Fitzgerald had moored his ship in the harbour of Santamaria.

After she calmly read the note he had left her once more, her instinct told her that somehow Antony wasn’t innocent in all this and that he, too, had deceived her in some way. But Zack had been a participant in the deception and entered into what he believed was a sham marriage, leaving her without realising Thomas was a minister of the church and she was truly his wife, and for that he would pay.

Calmly she slipped out of her flimsy nightdress for which she no longer had any use. Dressing and tying her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, she went in search of her brother. She glided soundlessly along the landing and down the stairs, struck by the heavy, almost brooding silence of the house, an ominous, waiting silence like the calm before a storm. She found Antony drinking coffee on the terrace with Thomas.

Thomas, looking ashen and rather shamefaced, rose on seeing his young cousin. ‘Shona! What can I say...?’

‘Nothing, Thomas,’ she said coldly. ‘Zack left me a note explaining that our marriage was a sham—before leaving me and sailing off like a thief in the night.’

‘For what it’s worth, I am sorry...’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Although why on earth Zack had reason to think you were an actor is beyond me for the moment.’ Her gaze shifted to her brother. ‘And you, Antony? Are you sorry? I suspect your hand in this. I await your explanation, for I sense there is a good deal more that I should know about and I insist you tell me everything.’

Lifting his gaze to hers, Antony shrugged casually. ‘Very well, I will, but one thing you can be sure of is that you are Fitzgerald’s true wife.’ He went on to reveal even more of Fitzgerald’s treachery, about the drunken reverend who was to perform the ceremony even though he was aware that he had been excommunicated, of how Antony had found out and cunningly replaced Zack’s reverend with Thomas. ‘The only thing I’m sorry about is that I lifted the guard on Fitzgerald’s ship, which enabled him to slip away.’

The scheming and treachery that had taken place without her knowledge shocked Shona to the very core of her being. ‘Is that all you have to say after your outrageous conduct? You might at least show some shame or remorse. But, no, you are as carelessly at ease as ever. And you dare to mock me! You’re not sorry about hurting me?’

‘You brought it on yourself—with your wanton behaviour.’

A wave of sick disgust swept over her. ‘And what of your behaviour, Antony? You played with my life like you would indulge in a game of cards. From what you have told me, there was some misunderstanding about a minister to perform the ceremony. Without a curate on the island, Zack offered to put forward one of his own—a man excommunicated by the church—and you found out. Anyone else would have been outraged, but not you. Instead of confronting him, you decided to play him at his own game. By making me the object of your game of cat and mouse, you offered me, your own sister, a gross insult.’

With a sigh of irritation, Antony hoisted himself forward in the chair. ‘A damnable game it turned out to be. The man had the devil in him. He would have rolled me up if Thomas hadn’t arrived in time.’

‘Providing you with the perfect opportunity to get your own back. How much alcohol did it take to render Mr Clay unconscious?’ She fixed her hard gaze on Thomas. ‘I have heard of your acting skills, Thomas, but to succeed in fooling Zack tells me your talent would be more appropriate on the stage rather than in the church. I trust Zack rewarded you for your services.’

‘Indeed. Had I refused to accept recompense he might have become suspicious. I assure you that the proceeds will go to a worthy cause. There is an orphanage in my parish that will benefit.’

‘How noble of you, Thomas,’ she said, her lips twisting with sarcasm. ‘I’m pleased to hear something worthwhile has come out of this treachery.’

‘I’m sorry, Shona,’ Thomas said, profoundly ashamed of the part he had played. ‘What is to be done?’

‘You might well ask. Zack and I are properly married. My place is with him now, so naturally I shall follow him to England.’

A dark flush of anger swept over Antony’s face. ‘You will not. I forbid it.’

Shona gave him a haughty look. ‘It won’t make any difference whether I go after him or not. Thanks to your meddling, my life is a disaster whichever way you look at it.’

‘A disaster of your own making. Go into to the house, Shona. We shall decide on a course of action when Carmelita comes down.’

‘I will not go back to the house until this is resolved,’ Shona said, filled with sudden bravado. ‘You did me a great wrong, Antony. You married me off in the most disgraceful manner—you, my brother—and you, Thomas, a man of the church. Shame on you—both of you! Am I alone in feeling that the church should not be used and abused like this?’ Indeed, it caused a feeling of profound revulsion in her.

‘It’s unfortunate, I grant you,’ Antony said. ‘The marriage will be annulled, of course.’

Colour flooded Shona’s face. She knew what her brother was implying. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You can’t do that. It’s not possible. I— We...’

Antony stared at her hard. ‘Are you telling me that...that...renegade had you?’

Shona raised her head haughtily. When she spoke, her tone was one of complete defiance. ‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘I am his wife in every way. I am not beholden to you any longer, Antony. I am the
legal
wife of Captain Zachariah Fitzgerald. It is to him that I belong now—even though he does not know it and is as deserving of my contempt as you are. When Thomas sails for England I shall go with him. How soon does your ship sail, Thomas?’