The Rebel and His Bride (10 page)

He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down her arms and up again, then he lay back on the boulder, pulling her down with him. She sprawled on him, her softness seeking and finding the corresponding hard planes of his body. As she pressed her hands flat on his chest, she could feel his heart beating.

Strands of her hair fell forward, providing a silken curtain of privacy around them as he kissed her again and again. She felt his hands slide beneath the edge of her T-shirt and caress the hot skin of her back, then slip beneath the elastic waist of her shorts and tease the edge of her silky panties.

She wanted to touch him, too, to see if his flesh was as hot as hers felt, so she levered up a little and
tugged up the front of his T-shirt. He groaned as she glided her hands over his chest, tunneling her fingers through the silky golden-brown hair that dusted it before searching for and finding his small erect nipples.

He gasped with pleasure and moved his hands beneath her shirt again, to explore the bare skin of her back, restlessly, searchingly. Finally, he tugged her shirt up as well, then her bra, without even bothering to unfasten it.

When bare skin met bare skin, they both groaned in satisfaction, and their mouths and tongues met in another passionate duel. Gregory spread his legs and Annabelle’s thigh slipped between them, rubbing against his swollen desire.

He rolled her beneath him, his arms keeping her bare back from contact with the cool stone. Lowering his head to her breast, he took a hardened nipple between his teeth and nibbled lightly, before drawing it into his mouth. Annabelle’s eyes fluttered closed at the incredible rivers of sensation that were spreading through her veins, and her fingers wove through his hair, holding his tormenting mouth to her. He suckled as if he were empty inside and only her taste could fill him.

He turned his attention to her other breast before moving up to take her lips again. He kidnapped her breath and held it hostage, allowing her to ransom it only by opening her mouth wider to his possession. She arched her hips beneath him
and he answered with an instinctive thrust of his own, his erection settling against her softness.

“Oh, Annie, it’s been so long,” he murmured against her lips.

Nobody had called her Annie in nine years, and the name was like a dousing of cold water. Annabelle struggled to sit up, hastily pulling down her T-shirt and fumbling to get her bra back in place.

“Annie?” Gregory’s voice was laced with frustration and confusion.

“I haven’t been Annie for a long time now,” she said. “For nine years, in fact.”

He sat up, drawing in a deep breath and finger-combing his hair into spikes that glinted fire even in the moonlight. “I don’t understand.”

She wondered if her voice sounded as breathless as his. “I—this isn’t a good idea, Rev.”

“I see the ‘Rev’ is back again,” he muttered, and hopped off the boulder. He moved rather gingerly in deference to the erection that Annabelle could still see outlined by the front of his shorts.

He held up his hand to her. “Come on down, Annabelle. It’s time to go home.”

“Gregory—”

“I’m sorry, Annabelle. You’re right. This isn’t a good idea. It’s also not appropriate behavior for a preacher. I have an example to uphold.”

“Do you have to be saintly all the time? Don’t preachers get to be human on their days off? Aren’t you allowed the same feelings as the rest of
mankind, or are you only allowed to feel within the sanctity of marriage?”

“I do feel just like everyone else. I think you know how much I feel. And, surprisingly enough, no, I don’t think you have to be married.”

“You don’t believe in marriage?”

“I do believe in marriage. I believe in commitment more. Some people are married without commitment. Some people are committed without marriage. Which one’s better? The answer’s pretty obvious.”

“So you don’t have to be married to have sex.”

“I think making love should be just that. Making love. Two people in love who are committed to their relationship. No, I don’t think you have to be married. You just have to be committed.”

“And you’re not committed to me.”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Well, no. Of course not.” Annabelle wanted to wince at how weak and lame her voice sounded.

“So, what’s going on, then? You were the one who called a halt a minute ago. Why are you trying to turn it into some kind of issue now?”

She didn’t answer. He was right, she
was
trying to make a big issue out of it. Why?

“Besides,” he added, “I got the message.”

What message? She wanted to ask him. How could he get her message when she didn’t even know what it was? Her head felt so jumbled, she couldn’t pin down a thought if she tried, and she
was damned if she knew what she was saying or doing.

Faint rosy streaks of light were finger-painting the horizon by the time they arrived back at Virgie’s. The walk back had been every bit as uncomfortable and silent as the earlier walk had been comfortable and chatty.

“Good night, Annabelle. Thanks for the walk.”

“I—you’re welcome.” Things were so strained, she could have cried. “I’ll—I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Gregory turned and walked off, not pausing to look back even once. Annabelle watched him for a moment, then opened the door and went inside.

Merlin sat in the middle of the living room and began to meow and wrap himself around her ankles as soon as she crossed the threshold. “It’s not your breakfast time,” she muttered, but he kept meowing. “Look, you’re smart enough to do just about anything you want, why don’t you learn to tell time?”

She went into the kitchen and fixed him a bowl of Cheerios, not wanting him to wake up her grandmother. She didn’t particularly want to explain to Gran that she’d been running around the neighborhood half the night with the minister. Not that her grandmother would be shocked. Annabelle doubted she’d even be mildly surprised. She wasn’t sure what it would take to actually shock her grandmother. Maybe if she’d been running
around the neighborhood naked with the minister. Boy oh boy, did her mind circle around
that
idea. But she doubted even that would shock Gran. More than likely, she’d be standing on the sidelines cheering.

Yawning, Annabelle went upstairs. She didn’t bother changing out of her shorts and T-shirt, just crawled into bed still wearing them and buried her face in the soft feather pillow. Lord, she needed some sleep, she thought. Nice, uninterrupted sleep. She just prayed she wouldn’t dream about Gregory this time.

She was awakened by a tap on her bedroom door. “Honey, are you gonna sleep all day?”

“Huh?” Annabelle forced open one eye. “What time is it, Gran?”

“About eleven. Daisy dropped by. She’s waiting downstairs. I’ll tell her you’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Annabelle stumbled, literally, to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she felt a little more human, so she took the time to camouflage the signs of her lack of sleep with some concealer beneath her eyes. Smiling brightly, she went downstairs.

Though Daisy looked like her sisters, there was something different about her. Even when they were kids and the triplets used to delight in fooling people, Annabelle and Danni had always been able to tell them apart. Rose was gentler, more subdued; Lily was a fighter, standing up for her rights —for anyone’s rights, for that matter.

And Daisy? Daisy had always been more flamboyant, as vibrant as a flame. And about as constant. Annabelle wasn’t surprised that this was her third engagement this year. What would surprise her would be if Daisy actually went through with the wedding.

Daisy stood when Annabelle entered the room and gave her a quick hug. “I had a few minutes to spare and thought I’d drop by. We haven’t had much time to catch up since your return to the wilds of Virginia.”

“I dropped by your house yesterday and nobody was there.”

“I had the day off and went into Norfolk with Mother to check with the florist.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re getting married.”

Daisy fidgeted with a lock of the light brown hair she’d added a few blond streaks to. “I’m the same age as you. That’s plenty old enough to be married.”

“I mean, I just didn’t picture you settling down so soon.”

“And I always pictured you being married long before now. You always liked kids, even when you were just a kid yourself.”

“Yeah, well, things don’t always turn out the way you expect them to, do they?”

“True enough.” Daisy stretched out her tanned legs, crossing one over the other. A half-dozen ankle bracelets tinkled as she moved. “All of us expected
you to graduate college and get married to that guy you were so gung-ho over.”

Annabelle stifled a sigh. Daisy knew darn well it was Gregory she’d been so gung-ho over, but this was her idea of being subtle. “So instead I graduated college and went for my master’s degree. And I’m glad I did. I love teaching.”

“Don’t you ever wonder what might have happened if you’d married, though?”

“No! Not at all. Everything turned out for the best.”

“I wonder if Gregory thinks so.”

“Tell me more about your wedding. I love the bridesmaid’s dress. What’s your dress like? Do you know where you’re going on your honeymoon?”

Annabelle managed to sidetrack Daisy, no easy task, into talking about her upcoming nuptials. At least Annabelle assumed they’d be upcoming, though with Daisy you could never be sure. For someone who was supposed to be in love, Daisy seemed awfully offhand about the whole thing.

They talked for another hour or so before Daisy glanced at her watch, bounced up, and dashed out the door, late for her afternoon date with Buddy. Annabelle couldn’t help but think that she’d never been late for a date with Gregory. As a matter of fact, she’d usually been early, as eager as he for their evenings together. Once they’d moved in together, they’d stopped going out at all, except to classes or his infernal demonstrations and rallies.

It had seemed silly to go to the movies when they ended up necking and missing the whole thing. It was equally silly to go out for pizza when they could have it delivered and never have to get out of bed, except to answer the door. Annabelle could remember the sight of Gregory’s cute bare buns as he reached around the door, trying to juggle the pizza and the money in one hand while making sure the door stayed between him and the delivery boy.

Even though Annabelle had told Daisy she’d never wondered what would have happened if she’d married Gregory, she had. Often. When she had been with Gregory, she figured that by the time she was the age she was now, she’d have been married at least eight years and she and Gregory would be thinking about starting a family—if they hadn’t already.

As she looked back she had to wonder how their marriage would have survived if Gregory had really gotten his dream job—aboard the Greenpeace ship,
The Rainbow Warrior
, or aboard a ship working for the Save the Bay Foundation. How long would he have been gone at a time? Days? Weeks? Months? Could their marriage have stood such separations? Knowing how much she’d resented the afternoons and evenings he’d donated to his causes, wouldn’t she have ended up hating his job even more?

The problem was that if she had just met Gregory this summer, she would have found him
enormously attractive. Charming, even. She would have definitely wanted to get to know him better, especially since she wouldn’t know his history of putting his causes first. But she hadn’t just met him and she knew all about his history. She’d been part of it.

Rehearsal for the Fourth of July pageant went off without a hitch that night. The kids had all learned their lines and were ready to present their program on Sunday night. Annabelle didn’t see Gregory, though, and wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed by his absence.

As they were finishing up she heard piano music trickling down the stairs. It was sweet and up-tempo and she could hear the muffled sound of voices singing in harmony. George Washington—she kept forgetting whether he was Jordan or Ethan Wainscott—said it was choir practice, moved from Wednesday to Thursday night so the piano could be tuned Thursday morning.

When she’d seen the last kid out the door and watched the Wainscott boys run across the street to their white frame house, she went upstairs to take a peek.

She recognized a lot of the people—Lute Simpson, Caterina Jones, Clara Walling, Muriel and Manny Parker. There were fourteen people total, not counting the broad shouldered pianist. With a start, she realized she recognized those shoulders. It was Gregory.

She hugged the doorway as she watched him move his fingers over the yellowed ivory keys of the rather battered upright piano that she recognized from when she was a child. It still wore the same decals of Old Testament figures they’d studied during Vacation Bible School—Daniel in the lions’ den, David and Goliath, Joseph and his coat of many colors. Seeing Gregory sitting at the same piano was a strange and disconcerting blending of her childhood, her recent past, and the present.

Annabelle shook her head. This was just too, too weird. She hadn’t even known Gregory could play the piano, and play it so well, at that. Had he learned since college or had he always known and never shared it with her?

She hadn’t told him every last little thing about herself, but somehow she’d felt she’d known everything there was to know about him. Maybe it was arrogant of her, but it was unsettling to think there were things she’d hadn’t known after all. She wondered what other secrets he hadn’t shared with her.

He stopped playing and Lute made a comment that had Gregory throwing back his head in laughter. Annabelle’s stomach tightened. There was that laugh again—full-bodied, nothing held back, inviting
the world to join in. She found it as compelling as she always had. A woman could listen to a laugh like that for the rest of her life.

Not liking that train of thought, Annabelle took a step back, intending to leave silently and unseen. At that moment one of the Wainscott boys dashed up the stairs and into the room. He whispered something to Gregory and Annabelle saw an expression of shock mingled with pain cross Gregory’s face. He said something to the choir and turned to leave.