“Thank you so much for the wonderful news, sweetheart.” Her mother was tiring; their departure came at the opportune moment.
Savannah couldn’t wait until they were well outside the hospital room before turning on Nash. “How dare you,” she flared, hands clenched at her sides. The man had no sense of decency. She’d told him how important it was to be convincing, but Nash cheerfully went about making fools of them both. His behavior angered her so much she could hardly speak.
“What did I do?” he demanded, wearing a confused, injured look that was meant to evoke sympathy. It wouldn’t work—not this time.
“You implied…you—you let my parents believe we were lovers,” she sputtered. And that was just for starters.
“So?” Nash asked. “Good grief, Savannah, you’re thirty years old. They know you’re not a virgin.”
She punched the elevator button viciously. The rush of tears was a mingling of outrage and indignation, and she blinked furiously in an effort to keep them from spilling.
Nash exhaled softly and rubbed the back of his neck. “You are a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Do you mind if we don’t discuss such private matters in a public place?” she ground out. The elevator arrived just then, and Savannah eagerly stepped on.
There were a couple of other people who stared at her. Her limp sometimes made her the center of attention, but right now she suspected it was her tears that prompted their curiosity.
She managed to keep quiet until they reached the parking lot. “As for that stupid declaration of being so crazy about me you couldn’t wait another minute to make me yours—I wanted to throw up.”
“Why? You should be praising me instead of getting all bent out of shape.”
“Praising you? For what?”
“Convincing your father we’re in love.”
“Oh, please,” Savannah whispered, gazing upward. The sun had begun to set, spreading shades of gold and pink across the sky. It was all so beautiful, when she felt so ugly. Nash was saying the things every woman longs to hear—beautiful words. Only, his were empty. Perhaps that was what troubled her so much, the fact that he didn’t mean what he was saying when she wanted it to be true.
“You’re not making any sense.” His patience was clearly gone as he unlocked the passenger door, then slammed it shut. “Let’s have this out right here and now.”
“Fine!” she shouted.
“I was doing everything I could think of to convince your parents we’re madly in love. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that the objective?”
“You didn’t need to lay it on so thick, did you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you have to hold on to me like you couldn’t bear to be separated from me for a single second? The kissing has got to stop. I won’t have you fawning all over me like…like a lovesick calf.”
“Fine. I won’t lay another hand on you as long as we’re together. Not unless you ask.”
“You make that sound like a distinct possibility and trust me, it’s not.”
He laughed shrewdly, but didn’t reply. The look he gave her just then spoke volumes. Savannah found herself getting even angrier.
“You could practice being a bit more subtle, couldn’t you?” she went on. “If anyone should know the power of subtlety, it’s you. I thought you were this top-notch attorney. Don’t you know anything about human nature?”
“I know a little.” He went strangely quiet for a moment. “You don’t think we fooled your father?”
“No, Nash, I don’t,” she said, calmer now. “The only people we seem capable of fooling are ourselves. I’m afraid this simply isn’t going to work.”
“You want out already?” he demanded, sounding shocked and surprised. “Our engagement isn’t even three hours old and already you’re breaking it.”
“We don’t have any choice,” she insisted. “Anyone with sense is going to see through this charade in a heartbeat. If we can’t handle announcing the news to my parents, how do you expect to get through the wedding ceremony?”
“We’ll manage.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“We did before, didn’t we?” he asked softly. “At Susan’s wedding.”
He would bring that up. The man didn’t fight fair. Her behavior at the wedding ceremony had been a slip of judgment and now he was waving it in front of her like a red flag, challenging her to a repeat performance. “But that wasn’t real…we weren’t the center of attention.”
“Like I said, we’ll manage very well—just wait and see.”
Nash walked around to the front of his car and leaned against the hood, crossing his arms. “Your parents are okay with it, so I suggest we continue as planned. Are you game?”
Savannah nodded, feeling she had no other choice. She suspected she could convince her father that she was in love with Nash; she wasn’t sure he’d believe Nash was in love with her.
* * *
Nash was busy at his desk, reviewing the latest settlement offer from Don Griffin, when his secretary buzzed him and announced that a Mr. Marcus Charles was there to see him without an appointment.
“Send him in,” Nash instructed. He closed the file, set it aside and stood.
Savannah’s dad was a gentle, reflective man who reminded him a little of his own father. “Come in, please,” Nash said pleasantly. “This is a surprise.”
“I should have phoned.”
“We all behave impulsively at one time or another,” Nash said, hoping Savannah’s father would catch his meaning. He’d tried hard to make it sound as if their wedding plans were impulsive, which was more or less the truth. He’d tried to convince her family that he was crazy in love with her and, according to Savannah, he’d overplayed his hand. Perhaps she was right.
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Of course not,” Nash said immediately, dismayed by his own lack of manners. Apparently he was more shaken by this unforeseen visit than he’d realized. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee, tea, a cold drink?”
“No, thanks.” He claimed the chair across from Nash’s and crossed his legs. “It looks like Joyce will be released from the hospital a day early.”
Nash was relieved. “That’s wonderful news.”
“The news from you and Savannah rivaled that. The doctor seems to think it’s what helped Joyce recover so quickly.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.”
“It’s going to take several months before she’s fully recovered, but that’s to be expected.”
Nash nodded, not thinking any comment was necessary. He was rarely nervous, but he felt that way now.
Marcus was silent for a moment. “So you want to marry Savannah.”
“Yes, sir.” This much was true and his sincerity must have rung clear in his response because it seemed to him that Savannah’s father relaxed.
“My daughter’s accident damaged her confidence, her self-image, at least in emotional situations.” He paused. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes,” he said honestly.
Marcus stood and walked over to the window. “I’m not going to ask if you love Savannah,” he said abruptly. “For a number of reasons that doesn’t matter to me as much as it did earlier. If you don’t love her, you will soon enough.
“You came to me the other night seeking my blessing and I’m giving it to you.” He turned and held out his hand.
The two men exchanged handshakes. When they’d finished, Marcus Charles reached inside his suit jacket, withdrew a business-size envelope and set it on Nash’s desk.
“What’s that?”
Marcus smiled. “Savannah’s mother and I thought long and hard about what we should give you as a wedding present, then decided the best gift would be time alone. Inside is a map to a remote cabin in the San Juan Islands that we’ve rented for you. We’re giving you one week of uninterrupted peace.”
Eleven
“What did you expe
ct me to do?” Nash demanded as they drove off the Washington State ferry. “Refuse your parents’ wedding gift?” This marriage was definitely getting off to a rocky start. They’d been husband and wife less than twelve hours and already they were squabbling.
“A remote cabin…alone together,” she groaned. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous.”
“Most newlyweds would be thrilled with the idea,” he said.
“We’re not most newlyweds.”
“I don’t need you to remind me of that,” Nash snapped. “You try to do someone a favor…”
“Are you insinuating that marrying me was a favor?” Savannah was huddled close to the door. “That you were doing it out of kindness?”
Nash prayed for patience. So this was what their marriage was going to be like—this constant barrage of insults, nit-picking, faultfinding.
“No, Savannah, I don’t consider marrying you a favor and I didn’t do it out of kindness. You’re my wife and—”
“In name only,” she said in icy tones.
“Does that mean we’re enemies now?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why have we been at each other’s throats from the moment we left the wedding dinner? I’m sorry your family insisted on giving us a honeymoon. I’m well aware that you’d rather spend time with anyone but me. I was hoping we’d make the best of this.”
She didn’t respond, for which he was grateful. The silence was a welcome contrast to the constant bickering.
“It was a beautiful wedding,” she said softly, unexpectedly.
“Yes, it was.” Savannah was beautiful in her ivory silk suit with a short chiffon veil decorated with pearls. Nash had barely been able to take his eyes off her. It was a struggle to remember this wasn’t a real, till-death-do-us-part marriage.
“I’ve been acting defensive,” she added apologetically. “I’m sorry, Nash, for everything. It isn’t your fault we’re stuck together like this.”
“Well, it was my idea, after all. And our marriage could be a good thing in lots of ways.”
“You’re right,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “We might find we enjoy each other’s company.”
Nash was offended by the comment. He’d enjoyed being with Savannah from the beginning, enjoyed goading her, challenging her views on marriage. He’d found himself seeking her out, looking for excuses to be with her, until she’d insisted she didn’t want to see him again. He’d abided by her wishes, but he’d missed her, far more than he cared to admit.
“I saw Mr. Serle and Mr. Stackhouse talking to you after the ceremony.”
Nash grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Both of the senior partners had been delighted to see Nash marry Savannah. She’d managed to completely captivate those two. Arnold Serle had been acutely disappointed that they’d decided against a wedding dance. He’d been counting on another spin around the floor with Savannah.
“Did they say anything about the senior partnership?” Savannah asked.
He was annoyed that she already seemed eager to get out of their arrangement. “No, but then, a wedding isn’t exactly the place to be discussing business.” He didn’t mention that it was at his sister’s reception that John Stackhouse had originally introduced the subject.
“I see.” She sounded disappointed, and Nash’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Luckily the drive was a beautiful one through lush green Lopez Island. Although Nash had lived in Washington all his life, he’d never ventured into the San Juan Islands. When they drove off the ferry he was surprised by the quiet coves and breathtaking coastline. In an effort to fill their time, he’d arranged for him and Savannah to take a cruise and explore the northernmost boundary islands of Susia and Patos, which were the closest to the Canadian border. He’d wanted their honeymoon to be a memorable experience; he’d planned a shopping excursion to Friday Harbor for another day. He’d read about the quaint shops, excellent restaurants and a whale museum. Women liked those sorts of things. It seemed now that his efforts were for naught. Savannah had no intention of enjoying these days together.
“Have your parents said anything about traveling south?”
“Not yet,” she said, her voice disheartened.
“They might not, you know.” In other words, she could find herself living with him for the next few years, like it or not. The thought didn’t appeal to him any more than it did her, especially if she continued with this attitude.
“How much farther is it to the cabin?” she asked stiffly. Nash wasn’t sure. He didn’t have GPS but he had a detailed map and instructions. However, since he’d never been on Lopez Island, he wasn’t any expert. “Soon, I suspect.”
“Good.”
“You’re tired?”
“A little.”
It’d been a full day. First the wedding, then the dinner followed by the drive to the ferry and the ride across Puget Sound. Darkness would fall within the hour and Nash had hoped they’d be at the cabin before then.
He reached the turnoff in the road and took a winding, narrow highway for several miles. Savannah was suspiciously silent, clutching her wedding bouquet. He was surprised she’d chosen to bring it with her.
He found the dirt road that led to the cabin and slowly drove down it, grateful he’d rented a four-wheel-drive vehicle. The route was filled with ruts, which didn’t lend him much confidence about this remote cabin. If this was any indication of what the house would be like, they’d be lucky to have electricity and running water.
He was wrong and knew it the minute he drove into the clearing. This was no cabin, but a luxurious house, built with a Victorian flair, even to the turret and wraparound porch.
“Oh, my…it’s lovely,” Savannah whispered.
The house was a sight to behold all on its own, but the view of the water was majestic.
“I’ll get the luggage,” Nash said, hopping out of the Jeep. He thought better of it, hurried around to Savannah’s side and helped her down.
With his hands around her waist, he lifted her onto the ground. He longed to hold her against him, to swing her into his arms and carry her over the threshold like any new husband, but he didn’t dare. Savannah would assume he was making a mockery of this traditional wedding custom. That was how she seemed to be dealing with everything lately, distrusting him and his motives. She made marriage feel like an insult. If this attitude lasted much longer, they’d have the shortest marriage on record.
“I’ll get the luggage,” he said again, unnecessarily. At least if his hands were full, he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for Savannah.
“I’ll open the door,” she said, and for the first time she sounded enthusiastic. She hurried ahead of him and he noticed that she favored her injured leg more than usual. Sitting for any length of time must make movement more difficult. She rarely spoke about her leg—about the accident, her long rehabilitation or the pain she still suffered. He wished he knew how to broach the subject, but every attempt had been met with bristly pride, as if she believed that sharing this imperfect part of herself would make her too vulnerable.
She had the door open when he joined her. Stepping inside the house was like stepping into the nineteenth century. The warmth and beauty of this house seemed to greet them with welcoming arms.
The living room was decorated with a mix of antiques, and huge windows created a room that glowed in the setting sun.
“Oh, Nash,” Savannah said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.”
“Me, neither.”
“Dad must have seen an ad for this house, maybe on a vacation website. He knows how much I love anything Victorian, especially houses.”
Nash stashed that away in his storehouse of information about Savannah. When it was time to celebrate her birthday or Christmas, he’d know what to buy her.
“I’ll put these in the bedrooms,” he said. He didn’t like the idea of them sleeping separately, but he didn’t have any choice. He’d agreed
to do so until she changed her mind, and from the look of things that could be a decade from now—if ever.
The master bedroom was equally attractive, with a huge four-poster mahogany bed. French lace curtains hung from the windows and the walls were papered in pale yellow. He set down Savannah’s suitcase and headed for the second bedroom, which would be his. It was originally intended as a children’s room, he realized. Instead of spending his wedding night with the woman he’d just married, he was destined to stare at row after row of tin soldiers. So much for romance!
* * *
Savannah woke early the next morning. The sunlight spilling in from the window was filtered through the lace curtains until a spidery pattern reflected against the floor. She yawned and sat up in bed. Surprisingly, she’d fallen asleep right away without the sadness or tears she’d expected.
“You’re a married woman,” she said aloud, thinking she might believe it if she heard herself say it. Her wedding and all that led up to it was still unreal to her. Afterward she’d been awful to Nash.
It took her a long time to understand why she’d behaved in such an uncharacteristic manner. Just before she went to bed, she’d realized what was going on. She was lashing out at him, blaming him for making a farce of what she considered holy. Only, he wasn’t to blame; they were in this together. Marriage was advantageous to them both.
She heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee urged her out of bed. She threw on her robe and shoved her feet into slippers.
“’Morning,” she said when she joined him. He’d obviously been up for hours. His jacket hung on a peg by the back door with a pair of rubber boots on the mat. His hair was wet, and he held a mug of steaming coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“’Morning,” he said, grinning broadly.
“You’ve been exploring.” It hurt a little that he’d gone outside without her, but she couldn’t really fault him. She hadn’t been decent company in the past week or so. And walking along the beach with her wouldn’t be much fun, since her gait was slow and awkward.
“I took a walk along the beach. I found you something.” He reached behind him and presented her with a perfectly formed sand dollar.
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