Darcy was right, of course. As beautiful as she looked in her white suit, and in spite of the tiny blue bouquet she still clutched, they couldn’t tell anyone what they’d done. They wouldn’t be free until they got home.
He might want to shout it from the rooftops for everyone to hear, but he couldn’t.
“We’d best get home and out of these clothes,” he said, but he couldn’t help yearning for the honeymoon that normally followed even the smallest wedding.
Darcy blushed, just like the bride she was pretending to be. Had his desires been so obvious that she could read them on his face?
“I’ve got to finish up some repairs around the house this afternoon before I go back to Florida tomorrow,” he added gruffly, though repairs were the last thing he wanted to make. He didn’t want Darcy thinking that the only thing on his mind was jumping her bones.
That hadn’t been part of their bargain.
Maybe he could remind himself often that Darcy didn’t love him, that he wasn’t meant to have a wife, then he might be able to stay away.
He did want her, he might even need her, but he’d never take anything from her that she didn’t offer willingly.
And hadn’t he asked enough of her as it was?
“SUPPER’S ALMOST READY,” Darcy called, looking up to the roof where Billy had been tacking down shingles loosened by the summer storm the night before. He had been banging around up there all afternoon, and she couldn’t help thinking that he’d stayed up there longer and banged louder than necessary.
“I’ll be right down,” Billy shouted back, after another barrage of pounding.
Darcy sighed and stepped back inside. This was her wedding night, and so far it had turned out to be nothing like the romantic experience she’d dreamed of since she was a child.
Of course, as a child she hadn’t expected that she’d be marrying a man for the reason she’d pledged herself to Billy. As a child, she’d believed in happily-everafters. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
She smelled something scorching and hurried back into the kitchen to find the pasta for the spaghetti boiling over. Darcy lowered the flame and sighed. So much for impressing her new husband with her culinary abilities.
Why she should be worrying about impressing Billy, she didn’t know. They weren’t married for keeps. But real marriage or not, this was going to be her only first meal as a married woman. Even if she did, someday, fall in love with a man who loved her back, it wouldn’t be the same as the first time, the first kiss, the first…anything. It might not mean anything to Billy, but it mattered to her.
She’d pulled out all the stops and cooked the one fancy meal she knew she could pull off. The one meal that she could count on everybody to like, and the one she always got raves for. And she had scorched the pasta.
What a way to impress a man! Darcy shrugged and dumped the noodles into a colander and ran cold water over them to stop them from overcooking. Now, all she needed was someone to eat it.
Billy came in, bare to the waist, shiny and slick with sweat, and stopped in the middle of the living room. Darcy’s breath caught in her throat. Then he sniffed the air appreciatively, and Darcy smiled. Maybe she had impressed him after all.
“Do I smell spaghetti?”
“You smell the sauce,” Darcy said. No need to point out that you really couldn’t smell the noodles. “It’ll be on the table by the time you wash up.”
“I’ll hurry,” he said, and Darcy grinned. Maybe the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach.
Then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t have expectations. This marriage was only supposed to be real to Nettie, and for Nettie it was real enough as it was. Darcy let out a small sigh and turned back to the kitchen.
In her childish daydreams, she had imagined roses and candlelight. In reality, she had daylilies plucked from one of Nettie’s perennial flowerbeds and it was still broad daylight. No need for candles, and there was no point in bothering with them anyway. This meal was merely to satisfy their bodies’ needs for nutrition.
But what about her other needs?
Darcy shook the thought away. She had to stop thinking about what should have been and focus on the way things were. That wasn’t easy to do with Nettie’s wedding band weighing so heavy on her left hand.
Glancing involuntarily at the finger adorned by the thin gold band, she wondered if she should put it away. If it were out of sight, would the marriage be out of mind?
She tugged at the ring, but her finger, swollen by the heat of the kitchen wouldn’t release it.
“What are you doing?”
Darcy looked up to see Billy, damp and rosy and obviously fresh from a fast shower, standing in the doorway. She let go of the ring and blushed. “Nothing. Are you ready for dinner?” she said brightly. “I made my world-famous spaghetti and meat sauce.” It wasn’t exactly spaghetti weather, but…
“I love spaghetti. There was a place I used to go to when I was at Fort Bragg in parachute training that really made great spaghetti.” He laughed as he took his place at the table. “It almost made jump school bearable.”
He was probably talking about Luigi’s, but Darcy thought it prudent not to mention that she’d been there, too. He still didn’t know that she’d spent her life moving from one military base to another. Billy didn’t know that her father was a general in the army and her uncle was the colonel in charge of his squadron back at Hurlburt Field. Darcy knew she ought to come clean about her background, but somehow, her wedding night, such as it was, didn’t seem to be the right time. There would be plenty of time to explain all that later on in their married life.
If there was a later on.
No, she told herself sternly. There was only now.
Darcy forced herself to think of the present. “I’m not sure it’s up to the standards of an Italian restaurant, but I’ve never had any complaints,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll just get the bread out of the oven and the salad, then you can tell me what you think.”
Why it mattered so much to her, Darcy didn’t know. After all, it wasn’t as if their marriage would fail if he didn’t like her cooking, she reminded herself as she removed the garlic bread from the oven.
Their marriage was going to end. Period.
She might as well get used to the idea now, and stop thinking as if she had forever.
They only had until…Darcy swallowed a lump in her throat. They only had until Nettie was gone.
Darcy set the salad on the table and seated herself across from Billy. It seemed strange to be sitting there like that, as man and wife, yet familiar as well. After all, they’d eaten at this same table together many times before. “I usually serve wine, but I…”
Billy covered her hand with his. “You didn’t know today was going to be a special day. It’s all right, Darcy. I’m amazed that you were able to produce this…this feast when you’ve been too tied up with my mother to shop.” Billy lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed her hand right over his mother’s wedding ring.
Darcy felt the heat of his lips on her hand and all the way down to her toes.
Bill felt the way Darcy trembled, but she didn’t jerk her hand away. She withdrew it slowly, tentatively.
Had she wanted him to keep holding her hand?
Maybe it was too intimate, considering the circumstances, Bill thought, but it seemed right. Darcy had made a great sacrifice in taking him on, and he wanted to show his appreciation.
If he couldn’t love her in the physical sense, he could at least demonstrate that he cared.
What he didn’t understand was his strong attraction to a woman he’d only known for a short time.
Hell, he’d dated one girl all the way through high school, and he hadn’t felt this strongly about her. When he’d joined the air force, she’d forgotten him soon enough. She’d been engaged to someone else by the time he came home for his first leave, and he couldn’t have cared less.
So much for t
rue love.
“We’d better eat before the salad gets warm and the spaghetti gets cold,” Darcy said, bringing him back to the here and now.
“Yeah,” he said huskily. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
She smiled, a look that made him think of pictures of the Madonna from his one night-school art appreciation class. It made him think that she had a secret.
And he couldn’t help wondering what it was.
DARCY WATCHED with silent pleasure as Billy uttered a satisfied sigh, then pushed himself away from the table.
“If I’d known the cookin’ was going to be this good, I might have considered gettin’ married s—” Billy stopped.
He must have realized what he’d said and had second thoughts about it. After all, their temporary marriage wasn’t the real thing, Darcy thought.
She swallowed a lump. Was it because he hadn’t finished his compliment or for some other reason? “It’s all right, Bill,” she said softly. “I know what you mean.”
He reached for her, but Darcy pulled away and made a show of reaching for his empty plate. “I’d better get this mess cleaned up. If the sauce hardens, it’ll be hard to get off.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need Billy watching her. She needed time to compose herself. To get herself together. “You go on. This won’t take long.”
“I could help, and it would go that much faster,” Billy offered. His tone sounded almost eager. Hopeful? Should Darcy dare think his reasons might be something other than getting the kitchen cleaned?
Darcy shook her head. “No. Thanks for offering, though. This kitchen is small, and it’ll be easier if I do it myself.” The kitchen was too small with him in it, and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what she was doing. Of course, she couldn’t tell him that.
“All right,” Billy grumbled cheerfully. “Just don’t ever say I didn’t offer.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Darcy answered flippantly. “Now, would you just go,” she told him, more sharply than she should have.
He stood there for a long minute, and Darcy wondered if she had hurt his feelings. She tried to ignore him, but he stood there, silent as a boulder, and just as immovable. Darcy didn’t know whether to relent and to let him help, or to shoo him off. As much as she wanted him to leave her alone, she also wished he would stay.
Fortunately, Billy took the decision out of her hands. He sighed sharply, turned and, saying nothing else, left.
Darcy felt more alone than she ever had. More alone than when she’d finally decided that she couldn’t marry Dick, or when she’d hiked along that dark country highway.
But then, she knew she had to get used to not having him. He would never be hers to keep. She was borrowing him as her last gift to a dying woman whom she had come to love as much as her own mother.
Tears welled in her eyes, and Darcy tried to blink them back. What was the point of crying when you didn’t even know why? Was she weeping for Nettie who would soon be no more, or was she weeping for herself…and the marriage that would never be?
No, there was no use dwelling on that, she told herself sternly as she filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. She and Billy had married for good reasons, but they were not the right ones. They had not married for love. They had wed for Nettie. There would be no more of a future for them than there was for her.
Darcy tried to lose herself in the routine monotony of the everyday task. Washing dishes was no more out of the ordinary than cooking the meal had been. She’d wash, she’d dry, and she’d put them away. Just as she did every night.
Before she knew it, the dishes were done, and Darcy could find no more reasons to stay in the kitchen. There was nothing to watch on television but reruns. It was too early to go to bed, especially alone.
Normally, she and Nettie would sit together on the porch swing and watch the fireflies. The june bugs had retreated for another year, but crickets had taken up where they had left off. Nettie would tell stories about her beloved Raymond and their children, and Darcy would listen raptly until Nettie grew tired and went to bed.
Sometimes she’d go inside with Nettie. Other times she’d stay out on the porch, breathing in the sweet summer air, until she, too, was tired. Darcy loved that routine, and there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the porch tonight, as well. She dried her hands, hung up the towel, and headed outside.
Billy stood on the top step, staring out into the night. His shoulder was braced against one of the porch supports, and he was chewing on a twig or a sprig of grass. He seemed to stiffen when Darcy opened the door, but he said nothing.
Taking that as his way of saying he didn’t want to be bothered, Darcy silently settled onto the swing and began to sway gently back and forth. The only sounds were the crickets, the occasional call of a bobwhite and the creak of the porch swing.
Darcy knew better than to expect anything of this night, her wedding night, but she couldn’t stand the depth of the silence. Yes, the night was alive with all manner of fauna, but it was the silence of the man so close to her, yet so far, that preyed on her mind.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she murmured quietly, hoping to break the icy stillness.
He didn’t turn, but he answered. “Yeah.”
One word was better than none at all, Darcy supposed, though it wasn’t what she’d been hoping for.
“There’s room on the swing,” she tried again, patting the seat for emphasis.
“I’m fine.”
Two words. It wasn’t exactly a conversation, but it was an improvement. Darcy sighed. She wished she knew what Billy was thinking. Was he worried about his mother? Perhaps, he was thinking about his return to duty tomorrow afternoon. Was it too much to hope that he might be as frustrated about the situation as she was?
Did she really want Billy to act as though he wanted her? What would she do if he did?
“I miss the june bugs now that it’s July,” she tried again.
Billy chuckled. “Yeah, it seems quiet without them.”
Darcy smiled. “Be still, my heart. A complete sentence,” she murmured wryly. “I must be making progress.”
“I don’t mean to be ornery, Darcy,” Billy said, turning. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer.” He plucked the twig from his mouth and tossed it out into the darkened yard. “I’m gonna turn in. See ya.”
It wasn’t the worst brush-off Darcy had ever gotten, but it was a brush-off. She didn’t know whether to laugh from relief or cry from disappointment. She sat there on the swing in the dark for a long time.
Then she finally went inside. To bed. Alone.
So much for her first night as a married woman.
BILL LAY AWAKE for hours alone in the bottom bunk in the room he’d shared with his brother Jim when he was small, listening to the silence. It was hell knowing full well that Darcy was lying just as alone in Earline’s twin bed across the hall. He lay there, hard and aching, knowing that there were only two ways to relieve the pain. He could go to Darcy and take what the law said he was entitled to, or he could take a cold shower.
He couldn’t go to Darcy because he’d promised that this wouldn’t be a real marriage, no matter how much he wanted her. There was no way he’d get up in the middle of the night and turn on the water in the bathroom just outside her bedroom door. He’d wake her. If he woke her, then she’d know.
That he wanted her.
Three steps across to the door, three more across the hall, and maybe another six to the bed. Twelve steps to Darcy. Twelve steps and he could make her his.
But he wouldn’t take those few steps.
She wasn’t his. She wasn’t anybody’s.
Tomorrow, he’d go back to Hurlburt, back to his real life, away from the woman he’d come to love.
Away from his wife.
It was a hell of a way to start married life.
Bill turned and punched the pillow again. He wasn’t married, he told himself. Not the way that mattered. He and Darcy had only
recited some words to make Momma happy. They were only playing their parts until the time came to go back to the way it was before.
He let in a deep breath, then let it out. He didn’t want things back the way they were.
He wanted Darcy in his life.
And, something about the way she’d acted tonight made him believe she wanted the same thing, too. How could he know for sure?
There was only one way to find out.
“God help me,” he muttered. He tossed the covers aside and went to her door.
Chapter Fourteen
Bill stood in the quiet hallway, hand raised and poised to knock. Then impulse failed him.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t force himself on her or put her in an awkward position that she might feel required to oblige. Even if she seemed to come to him willingly, he would never know if it had been because he’d come to her in the middle of the night and wakened her from a dream. He’d never know if she’d been too sleepy to think.
He would never know if she would have turned him down in the light of day.
Bill opened his fist and lowered his hand, then, let out a long, low sigh.
He might have been able to satisfy a temporary need, but he would never be sure why she’d allowed him to make love to her. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t do it this way. He wanted to know that she loved him, too.
He slipped back into his room, quietly closed the door, and lay back down in the tiny, empty bed.
He must have slept, for he didn’t remember seeing the night turn from black to gray to full sunlight. When he awoke, the sun was bright and clear and trying to burn through his sticky, swollen eyelids.
Yawning and stretching, he climbed out of bed, and steeled himself to face the day.
His second as a married man.
DARCY STOOD at the stove, turning bacon in the heavy, cast-iron frying pan. She sighed, or maybe it was a yawn. She’d gone to bed early, but she doubted she’d slept for more than a couple of short catnaps the whole night through. Yesterday was supposed to have been just another day.
Why then, had she been so disappointed when Billy hadn’t come to her?
Sgt. Billy's Bride Page 17
