Mysterious Vows. Cassie Miles

born of political necessity.

      The guests had formed a casual line, and Jason translated their words into Spanish so that she would understand.

      “Maria, you know my sister, Alice.”

      Alice dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a lace hanky. “Oh, Maria, you make a lovely bride. Muy bonita.” She glanced at Jason. “That’s right, isn’t it? Bonita?”

      “Excellent, sis. You’re practically bilingual.”

      She grasped Maria’s hands in her own. Abandoning her attempt to communicate in Spanish, Alice rattled off the afternoon’s agenda. “Well, Maria. Here’s what I have planned. A light buffet and, of course, the cake. Hope you like chocolate with white chocolate frosting. Now, the custom in our country is to save the top layer, freeze it, and eat it on the first anniversary. Shall I take care of the freezing for you?”

      Maria nodded.

      Alice frowned at Jason. “Does she have any idea what I’m talking about?”

      “You’d be surprised,” he said.

      “Anyway,” Alice continued, “I know you’re exhausted. So, I’ll try to move things along. We can probably ferry almost everyone back to the mainland on Reverend Blaylock’s big powerboat by five o’clock. Then you can relax.”

      “Relax?” Reverend Blaylock popped up beside Alice. “That’s not much of a honeymoon, eh?”

      “We’ll manage,” Jason said. Though he wasn’t a regular churchgoer, he liked Wally Blaylock. “Any pointers?”

      “I think you know the right thing to do.”

      Jason gave a perfunctory grin. Unfortunately, he doubted that the right thing would include the traditional honeymoon lovemaking. He swallowed his disappointment and continued to behave in the expected manner of a groom. Beneath his social facade, a strong desire raged within him. Their kiss had sparked emotions he’d thought were dead in his heart.

      “My sincerest congratulations,” the reverend said. He addressed Maria in excellent Spanish. “Excuse me for asking, Maria, but are you Catholic? Coming from a Central American country, I expected that you would be.”

      “Is the marriage legal?” Jason questioned.

      “To be sure.”

      “Then, what does it matter?”

      “What, indeed?” The reverend grasped Maria’s hand and pumped vigorously. His friendliness seemed sincere. “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll see you in church. Both of you. Right, Maria?”

      “I will be there.” She hesitated slightly. “With my husband.”

      The reverend stepped aside, and the informal reception line filed past them. Jason introduced an aged aunt and her companion, and a couple he referred to as neighbors.

      “Here?” Maria asked him. “Do we have neighbors here on the island?”

      “Mine is the only house on the island,” he said. Last night when they had arrived, it had been too dark for her to explore. This morning, she’d been sleeping and dressing. He was looking forward to showing her around. “I hope you will like it here.”

      Politely she responded, “I am sure I will.”

      As she greeted his guests, it was obvious to Jason that, despite Maria’s nervousness, she’d done this before. She had experience in reception lines and was fully cognizant of the proper social expressions and manners. Though she spoke no English to any of them, she managed to charm each and every one of their guests, men and women alike.

      Another surprise, he thought. According to his information, Maria had grown up in a rural village. Though well-educated, she was described as being a person who put her journalism career first and placed little value in social contacts. But the woman who stood beside him had an unmistakable aura of poise and sophistication.

      “You’re doing very well,” he complimented.

      “Thank you,” she said with a smile. She wanted to please him. The passionate force of his kiss—and her own instinctive response to him—had made her think that perhaps she truly was in love with this man. Being in his arms had felt so exquisitely right.

      Perhaps she had agreed to this marriage for all the right reasons. Though she could not remember their relationship, it would be truly wonderful if such reasons existed. If there were love between them... She would try, with all her will, to recall.

      Another guest stood in front of them.

      “Maria, this is Edward Elliot. He’s a senator in the Maine state legislature.”

      Edward clasped her hand firmly. “Delighted to meet you. Jason is a lucky man to have found a beauty like you, Maria.”

      Jason translated into Spanish, and she murmured, “Gracias.”

      “No English?” he questioned.

      “A little,” she said. This well-dressed, blustery, red-faced man seemed excessively interested in her. Most of Jason’s guests were content to shake her hand, wish her well and move into the dining area where the buffet was set, but Edward still held Maria’s hand in a tight, sweaty grip.

      “I think you know more than a little English,” he guessed. “When you spoke your wedding vows, you had almost no trace of an accent.”

      Jason had turned to another guest, and so did not translate.

      Though Maria understood every word Edward had spoken, she did not acknowledge the truth in his statement. She sensed danger. It was better not to reveal too much, to hide behind the shield of Spanish. “No comprendo. Sorry.”

      He leaned close, speaking for her ears only. “You’ll never get away with this.”

       What had he said?

      “I can help you. If Jason tries to—”

      Another guest jostled them. “Move along, Eddy.”

      Edward reached inside his jacket pocket, and his manner became falsely jocular. “If old Jason gives you a hard time, Maria, here’s where to reach me.” He passed her a business card. “If you need anything, anything at all—”

      “What are you saying?” Jason interrupted.

      “Inviting your bride into town. Or up to the capital in Augusta. It isn’t all that far away, and she might want to see the sights.”

      “Maria doesn’t know how to drive,” Jason informed him.

      A protest rose to her lips. Of course she knew how to drive! She’d been driving since she was sixteen.

      In a flash, a vivid mental image came into her mind. It was more of an impression, a soundless photograph. She saw a forest green Volvo station wagon parked in the dusk. There were trees. She knew the street, the neighborhood, but she could not put a name to it. Two men sat in the car, watching and waiting. Her heartbeat quickened and fear took root in her mind, throbbing as steadily as her returning headache.

      “If Maria wants to go anywhere,” Jason said, “I’ll take her.”

      “Not if she’s going to be a true American woman,” Edward responded huffily.

      Huffing and puffing, she thought. He was like an ill wind that blew no one any good.

      He continued. “The first thing she’ll want is independence. Right, Maria?”

      She forced herself to look directly at this man, tried to understand what he meant when he said Jason might give her a hard time. Would Jason hurt her? Despite the celebratory buffet and the chattering guests and her pristine white bridal gown, there seemed to be dark, discordant threats all around her. She didn’t know who to trust. This senator? Or Jason?

      Alice had returned to stand beside Maria.