Mysterious Vows. Cassie Miles

ripe, full lips, to soothe her fears.

      She had refused to speak of the journey. Since he’d picked her up in his boat, she had done nothing more than sleep, bathe, and take in barely enough food to satisfy a hummingbird.

      No doubt, there had been difficulties along her route. Maria had arrived ten hours late with several fresh bruises. Most disturbing, however, was her apparent memory loss. Her short-term memory was gone. She forgot everything he told her from one minute to the next, and must have asked his name half a dozen times.

      Alice had been correct when she’d suggested that Maria see a doctor. Though her injuries weren’t immediately life-threatening and her vital signs were good, he was worried about her. He wasn’t sure of her medical history, wasn’t sure exactly how treatment should be handled.

      It was dangerous to make any unplanned moves. At his desk, he picked up the telephone and punched out the number he had tried at least a dozen times since Maria had arrived. He allowed the phone to ring and ring. There was still no answer.

      He replaced the receiver on the hook. “Damn.”

      It was a hell of a time for his source to be missing.

      He limped gingerly through the door and skirted the edge of the small gathering of guests and witnesses, greeting some and accepting congratulations from others. Jason took his place beside the reverend, positioning his weight carefully and trying to ignore the constant ache from his shattered leg. The doctors assured him that someday he would be able to move around freely, and he was doing so well now that he barely needed the cane. But there would always be pain.

      Jason nodded to his sister and she opened the door to the parlor adjoining the larger room. Everyone turned to catch their first glimpse of the bride. There were gasps when they recognized, as he had, that Maria made a beautiful bride, clad in white, holding her rose bouquet. Her black hair shone with a magnificent luster.

      Reverend Blaylock whispered to him, “Very attractive.”

      “Yes,” Jason answered. “I know.”

      Maria stood frozen in the doorway, her shoulders straight and her small chin lifted defiantly. The woman who played the piano paused with her fingers lifted above the keys, then she started again to play “The Wedding March.”

      Maria’s remarkable green-eyed gaze darted left, then right, before fixing upon Jason. Though she stood perfectly still, he could feel the fluttering of her heart, delicate as a captive butterfly. The pleading in her eyes touched him, and he knew she was too frightened to move.

      Though Jason hated to be seen walking with his infirmity, he went down the short aisle toward her. When he stood beside her and offered his arm for support, she held on tightly.

      Slowly they walked the twenty paces to the front of the room where Reverend Wally Blaylock waited, prayer book in hand.

      “Dearly Beloved,” the reverend said. “We are gathered here today to...”

      Jason stood, firm and somber. Soon this charade would be over.

      The traditional words rolled past like the credits at the beginning of a motion picture. He listened with disinterest. This wasn’t a real marriage, unlike the first time when he’d been wed to Elena, a woman he’d adored. She had been his dearest love, more wondrous than the sun and moon and stars, until death parted them four years ago. He never thought he would love again.

      The reverend asked for objections to this marriage. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

      Jason held his breath. He halfway expected a crew of terrorists or agents from the immigration services to storm his isolated home. But that was absurd. There would be no objections, no specific reasons why he and Maria could not become man and wife...other than the obvious fact that they hardly knew each other.

      As he glanced down at her lustrous black hair, a strange sense of possessiveness came over him. He wanted to ease her fears. Softly he asked, “Are you all right?”

       “Sí.”

      She tightened her grasp on Jason’s arm, clinging to him for physical support as a tidal wave of nausea crashed over her. Her mind reeled dizzily. Her knees felt weak. She needed to lie down, to sleep, to end this horrid sense of disorientation.

      Jason rested his hand atop hers and squeezed. He was staring at her. His storm-gray eyes were expectant, as if he were waiting for an answer. But she did not know the question.

      The reverend cleared his throat and said, “Do you, Maria Ramos Hernandez, take this man, Jason Wakefield Walker the Third, to be your lawfully married husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

      How could she agree? I don’t know this man. I don’t know why I’m here.

      “Say it,” Jason whispered.

      Her lips parted, but she did not speak. She couldn’t lie, couldn’t pledge her hand in marriage to a man she did not love.

      He leaned close and whispered in Spanish. “Maria, this is dangerous. You must go through with this. Now.”

      She glanced at the people watching, a well-dressed assemblage of ten or fifteen men and women. Their eyes were polite but cold. Every one of them was a stranger to her.

      “I, Maria...” She couldn’t remember her name! Frantically she looked to Jason for help.

      “Maria Ramos Hernandez,” he whispered.

      “I, Maria Ramos Hernandez, take this man...” His name? “Jason,” she said triumphantly. “Jason Wakefield Walker the Third, until death do us part.”

      The reverend concluded the ceremony quickly and said, “You may kiss the bride.”

      Chapter Two

      Reverend Blaylock repeated, “You may kiss the bride.”

      Jason had thought to give her a small, respectful peck on the cheek, but when he rested his hands on her delicate shoulders and saw her trembling smile, he clasped her more tightly than he had intended.

      Her gaze was troubled, like a wavering green sea of doubt, but she embraced him as if she meant it, fitting her supple body against his.

      She was beautiful. It had been a long time since he’d held a beautiful woman.

      His mouth claimed hers. Their kiss was like sweet fire, tasting of honey and desire. And Jason craved more.

      Her lips parted, inviting him. Before he could stop himself, he thrust his tongue between her teeth. She startled in his arms. Her body tensed. Then she returned his passion one hundredfold. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. Her hands against his back grasped urgently. The friction of her body rubbing against him drove him wild.

      My God! His senses reeled. The intensity of the unexpected passion transported him and he forgot his pain, his bitterness. For the first time in months he felt like a whole, strong man again. Then they separated. The moment passed.

      They turned and faced the small group of family and friends who applauded enthusiastically. Except for one, Jason noticed. Edward Elliot, a state senator, clapped twice and allowed his hands to fall loosely to his sides. The usual politician’s smile was absent from his ruddy face.

      Jason escorted Maria down the aisle between his guests, and they took a position in the archway leading to the dining room where the long table had been set for the catered buffet. He walked slowly, without stumbling, and used his cane so he wouldn’t have to lean on her for support.

      “Congratulations!” his friends and family cried, as if this were a real wedding, a celebration of love and eternal happiness.

      He forced himself to return their smiles. With his shattered leg and broken dreams, he was unfit to be any woman’s husband. Maria deserved better. In her pristine white gown she was as lovely and traditional as the miniature figurine that decorated