Marrying William

by Trisha David

What was happening here didn't make sense.

  So silence it was until they pulled up in front of the farmhouse, and Jenni then practically gaped. Good grief!

  The place had been transformed. Taken over. Overwhelmed by wedding!

  There was a vast white marquee in front of the farmhouse, completely blocking the sight of the fire-damaged house. There were balloons and streamers and garlands of every flower known to man strung from tree to tree. There were people—a veritable army of people. Florists groaning under flower garlands and bouquets and flower bowls. Caterers with boxes of cutlery and crockery and plates and plates of food. There were two vast spit barbecues, already roasting...

  And every cottage was decorated. Jenni stared out in stunned amazement, recognising guests who came year after year to holiday here but had only been booked in this afternoon. Instead of starting their holidays with a relaxing swim or sleep on the beach, every guest was starting his or her holiday by making preparations for a wedding!

  So many people...

  And then Rachel and Beth were racing across the yard to tug Jenni's car door open. Sam vas back in harness. He was stiff-legged but he seemed almost as excited as his owner. Bother his sore leg. He had work to do!

  'Here's the bride,' the girls squealed. 'The bride! Oh, Jenni, Sally's brought out the dress and it's fabulous and she says the minute you arrive—the minute!—we're to bring you straight to her in Kookaburra because it'll take her an hour to do your hair and make-up. The photographer will be here in less than that.'

  'The photographer...' Jenni stared, bewildered, as Beth and Rachel hauled her from the car. 'The...'

  'We've got everything,' Beth said jubilantly. 'William's done most but we've done heaps and Henry Clarins brought out the whole Rotary Club and their wives. What they've done... We couldn't have put this on better if we'd had a year to organise it instead of a day. Sally even brought out bridesmaid's dresses for us and they're lovely. This is a real wedding, Jenni.' She hugged her sister hard, and Sam joined in with a lick or two. 'Come on, Jenni. This is the best...'

  Who knew?

  Who knew whether it was the best? Apart from the simple civil ceremony between William's father and the horrible Martha, Jenni had never been to a wedding in her life, so she had nothing to compare it to. But as far as lavish went.... As far as fun went... As far as noise and laughter and music mid happiness went, then this wedding couldn't be surpassed.

  Apart from Ronald—a fleeting shadow in the bushland who came and stared morosely at the marrying couple and then disappeared as silently as he'd come—there wasn't a person here who wasn't determined to enjoy themselves. And when the marriage celebrant asked William to kiss the bride and he lifted the veil to kiss her tenderly on the lips there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

  It was the wedding to end all weddings.

  It was only Jenni who felt the world was spinning crazily without her and she was no longer on board. She simply had no idea of what was happening.

  They danced all night, with Jenni whirling from one partner to another. Her damaged hip was forgotten. She could no longer feel it.

  She could no longer feel anything.

  Everyone danced until the wee small hours, and then, as the hundreds of guests finally started to depart, William pulled his bride into his arms and held her close.

  'Come on, Jenni,' he said softly. 'It's time for the bride and groom to start their married life.'

  'So...where do we go?' she faltered, and he smiled.

  'Back to Kookaburra. This is the beginning of where we start pretending. We pull down the blinds and let the whole world imagine our bridal night.'

  'N—no.'

  Jenni bit her lip. This was a dream. It was a strange surrealistic dream, but it was a lovely dream, and she wasn't about to leave it yet. She didn't want to walk into Kookaburra, close the door and go calmly to separate bedrooms.

  Not yet.

  'Then...where?' William was looking down at his bride with tenderness. Dear heaven, she was lovely. Her dress was just beautiful, and it clung and shimmered and hinted at her lovely body beneath. Someone had persuaded her to let her hair free. It tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of rich black curls. Her face was pale and her eyes too big for her face, but there was just a tinge of colour about her cheeks.

  It was as if she was embarrassed. No. As if she was...

  In love?

  Hey, leave that, Brand, he told himself. It must be the first. As if she was embarrassed.

  'I want to go to the beach,' Jenni said softly. 'There's no way I can sleep yet. I need a walk. Will you come?'

  It shouldn't matter if he did or not, she thought, but in reality it did. It mattered very much.

  There were still guests milling around, making their way slowly to their cars, unwilling for this lovely night to end. William stared around at them, and then he looked down at his bride.

  'Your leg must be hurting,' he said softly.

  'I've forgotten I have a leg.'

  'Then it's numb. Same thing. I'll take you for a walk, but we'll do it my way.'

  And before she could utter a squeak of protest William had lifted her up into his arms. They stood, William dark-suited and handsome—impossibly handsome, Jenni thought—and Jenni, breathless and beautiful with her exquisite gown falling in soft folds around her and her curls tumbling around her face.

  They were a sight to take the breath away.

  'Goodnight, all,' William called to the departing guests. 'Goodnight. This is where we leave you. It's after midnight. My mermaid's losing the use of her legs so I'm taking her back to the ocean.'

  And as the crowd parted around them, laughing and cheering and wishing them well, William carried his lady down to the sea.

  They didn't stop until they'd rounded the headland and were out of sight of everyone. The moon was still up, a crescent of silver-gold low in the sky, but bright enough to show William the way.

  Not that he needed to be shown. The beach was wide and clean and lovely. The waves were silver-white tongues of foam, roving over the blackness of the ocean. The air was still and warm, with the promise of a hot day to come. • The heat would wait, though.

  The day would wait.

  Once they'd rounded the headland, Jenni struggled in his arms. 'Let me down. Please, William, I need to walk.'

  'You'll hurt your leg.'

  'Not me. Don't you know?' she retorted as he set her down on the sand. 'I'm as tough as old boots.'

  'Not so tough, Jenni.' He touched her face, lifting a wispy curl and tucking it behind her ear. 'You can't tell me you're tough. Not wearing that dress.'

  Good grief. Good grief! How to cope with him looking at her like this?

  There was only one way. Get back to practicalities—and get away from him!

  'Yeah, well, this is a fairy-tale dress,' she told him. 'A once-in-a-lifetime fantasy. I've had my chance at playing the enchanted princess. Now it's back to being Cinderella.' She turned herself firmly away from him. 'Help me with these buttons, would you? There must be a hundred of the things.'

  'Help you with your buttons?' he said faintly as she presented her back to him.

  'That's the one,' she told him. 'Isn't that what husbands are meant for? Helping their wives undress?'

  'Jenni, I'm...'

  'Now, don't go getting any funny ideas,' she begged, fighting to keep her voice matter-of-fact. 'I'm wearing very respectable knickers and an even more respectable bra under this fantasy stuff. Not like the worn-out one I had on when Sam was injured. This is Home Brand, no-nonsense, even-your-grandma-would-wear- 'em stuff. More respectable than a bathing costume, in fact. And there's no way you're unfastening that lot. All I want is a Swim.'

  'A swim...'

  'I've been aching for a swim all day,' she told him. 'Longer. Since the fire. Yeah, okay, my hip hurts. And the best way I know to ease hurts is to swim.'

  It was. It was the only way Jenni knew. She'd swum as a teenager when everything had crowded o
n top of her. She'd swum to ease the hurt of her parents' death, and when she hadn't known what to do. She'd swum when she'd been confused and frightened and alone.

  She was confused now. She was confused right up to her eyebrows, so she stood rigid while William undid her buttons. The feel of his hands against her! Then, before he could say a word, or even take note of her respectable undies, she let her beautiful wedding dress fall on to the clean, golden sand and she took off towards the surf.

  'Aren't you afraid of sharks?' William yelled after her, and Jenni shook her head, her curls flying free around her face. She should have braided her hair again. It still felt weird.

  'Not me,' she managed as she reached the shallows. 'Besides, you said I was a mermaid. Sharks don't bother mermaids.'

  'Says who?'

  'It's a known fact,' she said scornfully. 'Mermaids just say boo—or call in King Neptune for the really heavy stuff. Like a school of manta rays with evil intentions. See you.'

  And she launched herself into the waves, pushing her lithe body through one breaker and into the next, and then diving neatly into the third.

  And disappearing from view.

  William was left staring after her, her cloud of wondrous silk lying at his feet. And his world stood still.

  He'd never met anyone like this girl. It was as if she really was a mermaid, he thought faintly. She'd cast off her human form and turned again into what she really should be.

  Where was she?

  He watched, suddenly anxious. She had a damaged leg. It was dark and there were night feeders. Stingrays. Manta rays with evil intentions?

  She was tired.

  Where was she?

  And then she surfaced, far out beyond the line of breakers. The moon was glinting on the wetness of her hair. She raised her arm and waved—and then she put her head down and swam strongly along the back of the waves, parallel to the beach.

  Away from him.

  Good grief!

  What to do here? What?

  He should just slope off home.

  He could do no such thing. If she got into trouble... She mustn't swim at night Not alone.

  This was madness.

  She often did. He could tell that this wasn't a first, and the thought left him cold. No woman he'd ever met in his life before would do such a crazy thing.

  Julia had been killed being crazy.

  That was different though. Julia's craziness was a world away from what Jenni was doing.

  Was it?

  Yes. Yes and yes and yes! Julia had been crazy for effect. She'd played her audiences to the hilt. For Jenni... Jenni was not playing for any audience here. She wasn't playing for him now. William knew if he took himself back home Jenni would keep on swimming. It was as if he no longer existed. She was a solitary swimmer, alone with her thoughts.

  And she had manta rays and sharks and the odd giant squid to keep her company, he thought bitterly. And water snakes. And poisonous jellyfish.

  His eyes would start glazing over if he didn't stop it.

  'You've been in New York for too long, boy,' he told himself savagely. 'You're losing your touch. You used to swim here and you swam at night. No giant squid ever had you for a midnight snack.'

  It looked so damned good.

  Jenni looked so damned good. Her lithe form was cutting through the water like a dolphin. She must have been born to water.

  She was almost more beautiful in the moonlight in the water than she'd been in her wedding dress.

  'You should go home,' William told himself again, staring out at her, but he could no sooner turn and leave than he could fly.

  So if he wasn't going home...

  There was no way he was standing here watching a moment longer. It looked too inviting by far.

  And she looked too lovely.

  A man could only take so much. And he was married to her.

  'She's my wife,' he said as he peeled off his dinner suit. He might still be as independent as he liked, but for now... 'Jenni's my wife.'

  And suddenly the words sounded good. Fantastic, in fact.

  This might be for only a year, but it was promising to be some year!

  Out to sea, Jenni was thinking much the same.

  In one long day her life had been turned on its head.

  Not so much, she told herself firmly. Nothing's changed except you've got yourself a boarder.

  You've got yourself a husband!

  The thought was ridiculous. She glanced back at the beach to where William was standing watching in the moonlight.

  He looked so...so alone.

  He was as alone as she was, she thought suddenly. This man seemed so powerful and in control, but he'd hoed a row as bitter and hard as she had. Jenni knew there had been no joy for him after he'd turned sixteen—after his father had married Martha. Martha hadn't wanted him. Ronald had hated him and Ronald was criminally cruel. And then his father had died and he'd fought to take on the world by himself.

  What William had faced wasn't so different from what she'd been through. Maybe he could say she'd had it harder because her sisters had been dependent, but then she hadn't been so alone.

  Alone... He was standing there alone now, staring out to sea, and Jenni's heart twisted inside her. For the first time she didn't feel overwhelmed by his power or his good looks or his charm. For the first time she saw him as he really was—as he'd always been. Solitary.

  William.

  Her husband.

  And then her breath caught in her throat as she saw him move. His coat came off first, and then the rest. All the rest, until he was standing naked in the moonlight. The moon shimmered on his magnificent naked body. Dear heaven, he was beautiful. He was so...so...

  Well, for a start, he was so male!

  And he was her husband! The thought made her go limp at the knees and she practically sank on the thought.

  And then he was striding into the waves. Jenni could watch no more. There was no way she could tread water and watch and wait for him to come to her.

  As of this evening, this man was her husband. This was her wedding night and yet...

  Yet this was a business arrangement. This wedding was for a year, and a year only.

  So get moving. He wants a swim and only a swim, she told herself, and she put her head down and started swimming again herself. As fast as her arms would take her. Away from William.

  Away from her husband.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It took five minutes for William to reach her. Jenni was a strong swimmer and she'd had a hundred-yard start. Her head was down, and she was swimming strongly, but she felt him coming up behind her, and then swimming beside her, stroke for stroke.

  He could reach out a hand and stop her any time he wanted, but he didn't. For a while he seemed content to keep pace with her.

  Stroke to stroke.

  It was a weirdly intimate experience. William was swimming between Jenni and the open sea. His presence beside her made her feel all at once protected—and very, very vulnerable.

  Finally she had to pause. William might be able to keep up this pace, but not Jenni. It was her injured leg holding her back, she told herself, but she knew it was no such thing. William was too good.

  So she stopped short and stayed where she was, treading water, while William sensed that she'd stopped, paused himself and swam back to her.

  Now they were nose to nose in the water, with moonlight shimmering between them.

  'You swim like a fish,' he told her, laughing, and Jenni smiled.

  'You're not so bad yourself.'

  'This is my home beach.' He looked around him with affection. 'I'll bet I've swum here more times than you, Jenni. I swam every day from the time I was born until I was sixteen years old.'

  'Since you were born...'

  'My parents loved the water,' he told her. 'My first memories are of this beach. Of being held between my parents in the shallows.'

  It was weird, talking as they were now. Weird and
intimate and special. The whole ocean stretched before them but the scene was more intimate than any candlelit dinner. It was a night just for them.

  'Do you swim in New York?'

  That brought a cloud. 'No,' he told her.

  'Why not?'

  'I'm too busy.'

  'What a shame.' Jenni grinned, breaking the intimacy. 'Then let's see. I've been here for ten years and you intend to spend one year here and then leave again. But I'm staying. So by the time I'm a hundred I'll have eighty-four years of swimming here and you'll have seventeen. So who's rich now, William Brand? Sometimes I don't feel poor at all.'

  And she turned towards the shore, catching the next long, low swell and letting it carry her into the shallows.

  William followed. Her wave slowed as it neared the sand, and William's was caught from behind by another. Jenni's wave veered sideways, pushed by the power of the two behind, so in the end he passed her, finding his feet in eighteen inches of water as Jenni surfed in beside him.

  She almost bumped into his feet and he put down a hand to steady her.

  She was just lovely!

  She rose, dripping, in her plain white respectable knickers and bra, and with her lovely hair casting rivulets of water over her body.

  She was right about her knickers and bra. Despite their sodden state, they left everything to the imagination. Julia wouldn't have been caught dead in garments like this.

  How could he talk her into buying something lacy? he thought. And then he gave himself a mental shake. Jenni didn't need anything lacy, he decided. She was lovely just as she was.

  His hand held her as she steadied, but then he didn't release her.

  He couldn't release her. Quite simply, he'd never seen anything—anyone—so beautiful in all of his life. She stood looking up at him, a half question on her face, and the urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming. The urge to take her...

  His wife...

  'William, we should go home,' she said, and there was a tremor in her voice. Well, how could she help that? He was naked, for heaven's sake. And he was so close! So close...

  She tugged her hand but he didn't release it.

  'William...'

  Maybe this had been a mistake, she thought. To swim...