Chapter 2 #2
“No, darling. I married him because I loved him, irrational as it was. And that’s why the sex was good.”
“Then I should have no problem,” Susan said blithely.
“Because you love Edward.” There was just the faint trace of a question in Mary’s gentle voice.
“Of course. I’m marrying him, aren’t I?”
“I thought it was more a practical than an emotional decision.”
“Marriage should always be a practical decision,” Susan said firmly. “It’s too important an issue to let your emotions or your heart get in the way.”
For a moment Mary looked stricken. “And you wouldn’t want your heart to get in the way, would you, sweetheart?” she said softly.
She recognized the troubled tone in her mother’s voice. “I love Edward,” Susan repeated firmly. “Trust me.”
“Always, darling. What are you going to wear to the Andersons’ party tonight? They’ve invited just about everyone, I’m afraid, even though I told them that this week was hectic enough already.”
“We’ll survive. At least I’ll have some time with Edward.
” She said it almost defiantly. She loved Edward, truly.
If it wasn’t the mad, passionate desire of a teenager, well, they were both too mature for that She loved him in a calm, rational manner, secure in everything the future held for the two of them.
She rose, heading toward her mother, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Trust me, mother. I know what I’m doing. ”
Mary smiled up at her, but there was no missing the real doubt in her warm blue eyes. “Of course, dear.”
Her mother was right: the Andersons’ sprawling Tudor mansion was crammed with people.
Susan had been trained by her mother in the fine art of social intercourse, and she survived a good three hours of chitchat, shrimp hors d’oeuvres, distant glimpses of Edward, and enough French champagne to fell a lesser woman.
She’d learned how to sip, making one glass linger, she’d learned how to smile and look as if every word was utterly fascinating.
For some reason tonight it all felt particularly hollow.
She must have been overtired, she decided, making an automatically sympathetic response to Taylor Anderson’s gastrointestinal woes.
She’d been brought up for this sort of thing, she was good at it.
Across the crowded room she could see Edward thriving, charming everyone who came within his orbit, and he was counting on her doing the same thing.
For some reason she wasn’t quite sure why she should.
It was a warm summer night in June. No one noticed when she slipped out onto the terrace, closing the French doors behind her.
She took a deep breath of the damp night air, then looked down to discover her hands were shaking.
Bridal jitters, she thought, dismissing it She made no effort to go back into the crowded living room.
No one had even noticed she’d disappeared, which was a blessing.
This was the first time in days when she’d been alone, it seemed. At peace.
Until he stepped out of the shadows. “Running away?” Jake Wyczynski murmured.
He didn’t come any closer, for which she could only be thankful, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
He was marginally dressed up, in dark pants and an open-necked white shirt, but there, was no missing the air of the wild, the exotic, that clung to him like the night breeze.
“Getting a breath of air,” she said lightly. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I’ve been hiding out. This isn’t my kind of thing, I’m afraid.”
She turned and leaned against the stone balustrade, looking up at him. “Then why are you here?”
“I promised your godmother I’d give her a full report If that means having to suffer through cocktail parties then so be it.” He looked as if he’d rather be wrestling crocodiles than standing on the terrace of the Andersons’ elegant house.
“Hey, don’t hang around on my account. I absolve you of any obligation,” she said coolly.
“The obligation isn’t to you, sweetheart. It’s to Louisa. I promised I’d witness your wedding and all the garbage leading up to it and I won’t go back on my promise even if it kills me.”
“It’s not going to,” she said. “Though I might be tempted. TU tell you what I can always free you. The invitation is rescinded. You aren’t invited. You can return to the wilds with a clear conscience.”
“I think your mother might have something to say about that.”
He was absolutely, annoyingly right Her mother wouldn’t tolerate such ill manners, especially toward the representative of one of her oldest friends.
Susan sighed wearily. She would have liked nothing better than to get rid of him, though she couldn’t figure out why he bothered her so much.
In any case, she had no choice but to summon some semblance of courtesy.
“All right,” she said. “You can suffer as much as you want. Just don’t expect me to make it any more bearable. I’ve got too much going on as it is.”
She made the mistake of meeting his gaze. He really had extraordinary eyes, light blue in his deeply tanned face, and there was the strangest expression in them. It must have been a trick of the light.
He smiled wryly. “I’m not expecting anything but a week of utter boredom and then I can get the hell back to where I came from.”
“And where did you come from?” she inquired politely.
“Here, there and everywhere. I’m a wanderer. A jack-of-all-trades. The last time I saw your godmother she was in Tanzania, about to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. I imagine the next time I run into her it’ll be in Sri Lanka at a ruined temple, or maybe a deserted Incan city.”
“How...completely irresponsible. Don’t you need to make money, or are you independently wealthy?”
“No, I don’t need to make money,” he echoed in a cynical drawl. “I don’t need to do much of anything I don’t want to do. I get to live a life of complete freedom.”
“And it isn’t lonely?”
He paused, looking at her. Somehow, in the course of a short conversation, they’d gone from polite to hostile, and she wasn’t quite sure why.
Only that she felt safer with the hostility.
“Let me tell you, sweetheart, it seems a hell of a lot lonelier in the middle of that crowd of people—” he jerked his head toward the noisy living room “—than being alone on an African river.”
She wanted to refute it, but the one thing she always prided herself on was her honesty. “You’re right,” she said abruptly.
He clearly hadn’t expected her to admit as much. “Then why are you putting up with it?”
“It’s expected. Edward enjoys it, and it helps his career. Did you meet Edward, by the way? I’ll introduce you....” She started for the French doors, suddenly eager to get away, back to the crowds and the safety, when he caught her arm. His hand was rough, warm, strong on her forearm.
“I met Edward,” he said. “I didn’t like him.”
She stared up at him, openmouthed, too astonished to pull free. “I beg your pardon? Everyone likes Edward.”
“I don’t. He’s plastic. A complete and utter phony, more interested in his own reflection than you. Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life married to such a jerk?”
Her momentary shock melted into fury. “Just who the hell do you think you are? It’s none of your business who I marry.
I don’t even know you.” Belatedly, she yanked her arm free, then realized he hadn’t even been holding her.
Just resting his hand on her arm. He shrugged, unimpressed.
“I hate to see people screwing up their lives.”
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t look,” She started away from him, when his mocking drawl called her back.
“You didn’t say whether you liked today’s present?”
She paused by the door. “I don’t know what it is.”
“Wedding jewelry, from one of the nomadic tribes Louisa and her husband traveled with.”
“Wedding jewelry? Where do you wear it?” she demanded.
He grinned. “Next to the skin, babe. If you and old Edward can’t figure it out you can always come to me.”
She slammed tire door behind her.