Paradise Wild (11 page)

October 10 dawned with a misty rain that built to a thunderous storm by mid-afternoon. From her bedroom window, Corinne looked miserably out on the rain-drenched street. Streams of water ran along the gutters. The park across the street was flooded.

Corinne glanced over her shoulder at Florence and asked dismally, “Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck to have it rain on your wedding day?”

Florence was searching through the dressing table for Corinne’s pearl-studded hair pins. She turned and made a disapproving sound.

“Now, that’s only superstitious nonsense. And besides, it sounds to me like it’s letting up. The sun may shine yet before four o’clock.”

Corinne looked once more at the dreary park scene. “It won’t,” she sighed, and turned away from the window. “And my hair will probably be ruined going to and from the carriage. Not to mention my gown.”

“Maybe we should go to the church early and dress you there,” Florence suggested.

“Yes, maybe,” Corinne replied automatically, her thoughts already drifting to other matters. From the moment she had awakened that morning she had been assailed by doubts. Suddenly she turned wide, fearful eyes
on her maid. “Oh, Florence, what have I gotten myself into?”

“Don’t you look at me as if I had answers,” Florence said austerely. “You should have thought of that sooner, my girl.”

“I don’t know this man I’m marrying,” Corinne went on. “My God, I still don’t even know where he comes from!”

“Does it matter?”

“Nor do I know where we will live. We can’t very well stay in his hotel.”

“I’m sure he has made some kind of plans, Cori,” Florence tried to reassure her.

“He’d better not. Not without my approval!” she snapped childishly. “And if he thinks I am going to leave Boston to go live wherever it is he comes from, well—”

“I don’t know why you didn’t talk these things out with the man. What have you been thinking of?”

“It didn’t occur to me until now,” Corinne admitted, and then cried in a burst of panic. “Oh, Florence, I won’t marry him! I can’t!”

“That would be a scandal—one to set all of Boston on fire. Corinne Barrows doesn’t show up at the church!”

“But—”

“No buts.” Florence cut her off, though gently. “You’re just nervous, Cori. It happens to all brides. This marriage is what you wanted. And you’re getting a fine, handsome devil for a husband.”

“Devil is right.”

“Tsk! From what I’ve seen of Jared Burk, he’s nothing but a pussycat. He’s a charmer, that one.”

“Well, I’ve seen another side to him, Florence. He’s like two completely different men.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Corinne answered quickly. “It must be nerves. Maybe I’m just worried about tonight and what will happen after the reception.”

“Ah, that will go smoothly,” Florence chuckled. “You know what it’s all about because I told you so myself, since your poor mother wasn’t around to do so. Not that she would have, with her upbringing. Lord, but you’re not like your mother at all.”

“I remember so little about her,” Corinne reflected, feeling herself slowly relaxing. “Only that she and Father never really got along.”

“Well, their marriage was one of convenience too, just like yours will be.”

“I know,” Corinne said and glanced at the clock. “We had better be going if I’m going to dress at the church. I’ll tell Father while you get my things ready. And don’t forget my grandmother’s pearl necklace. It will go so well with all that white lace on my gown.”

“I know, I know,” Florence smiled. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes. I don’t know what got into me, but I’m fine now. Let’s get this wedding over with.”

Parked at the end of the street, a few houses away from the church, was an old-fashioned coach with two spirited mares harnessed to it. The coach was empty and facing away from the church, but a heavily cloaked driver sat up on the box, turning to look back at the church every time he heard a carriage pull up near it.

Thunder sounded often, and lightning lit the darkly clouded sky. The rain came down in sheets, but the driver didn’t seek the dry interior of the coach.

He waited, waited for one particular carriage and the occupant who would step down from it. A brand new
rifle was held tightly in his hands, concealed beneath his cloak.

Jared was in a foul mood. He rode to the church with Willis Sherman, the lawyer Dougherty had recommended to him. Sherman would be his best man, and sat across from him in the carriage. Jared hid his agitation from Sherman.

What in damnation was he doing marrying Barrows’ daughter! Every time he looked at her he was reminded of her father and how much he hated him. But it wouldn’t be for long, he told himself. As soon as he used Corinne’s shares to destroy the firm, she would divorce him. But how long would that take? And was it worth marrying her for?

So much time had already been invested. He had left home five months ago. But at least no one at home would know that he had married and divorced during his trip to the mainland. He wished it were over, that he were on his way home right now.

The carriage stopped and Jared waited for the ushers to bring umbrellas before he stepped outside. A fine day for a wedding, he thought grimly. Suddenly, thunder cracked like a shot from a gun and it was several seconds before Jared realized it had indeed been a shot. And he soon spotted a hole in the carriage where the bullet had struck only inches from him. Jared watched as a coach took off quickly down the street.

“Strange-sounding thunder,” Willis Sherman remarked as he followed Jared to the church.

“Yes, it was,” Jared replied, saying nothing more.

His instinct was to follow the disappearing coach. But Corinne would never tolerate being stood up at the altar. He was stunned, not so much because he could have been killed, but because he couldn’t figure why
someone would try to shoot him. He had no enemies here in Boston. It didn’t make any sense. For that reason, he concluded that the shot had not been meant for him. It was probably a madman run amuck.

“Come on, before we get soaked,” Willis urged. “It’s coming down hard and these umbrellas aren’t any help.”

Jared nodded and hurried up the steps to the church. He dismissed the shooting. Right now, he had to get married.

A few minutes later, Samuel and Corinne Barrows slowly followed Lauren, the maid of honor, down the aisle. Jared stood waiting at the altar with an impatient look about him that made Corinne all the more nervous.

He was superbly fitted in black pants and a white formal jacket with black velvet lapels. He was extremely handsome. Corinne couldn’t help feeling a little proud because of it. Lauren was happy, and also envious. And Cynthia had refused to come to the wedding. She had had such high hopes about Jared, and wouldn’t even talk to Corinne. Russell hadn’t come, either. But many others from her crowd of friends and her father’s friends were there to wish her well. The guests were richly and colorfully dressed.

Her father pressed her arm reassuringly, but his presence didn’t help her panic. Her hands were sweating. Her heart pounded so furiously she could hear it above the music and the roaring rain outside.

When Jared took her hand, she knew he could feel the cold clamminess of it. He would know how frightened she was. When he smiled at her she blushed hot pink beneath her veil. She couldn’t know that he was admiring her despite himself. In the lace-covered white silk gown and hem-length matching veil, she was lovelier than anyone he had ever seen. What a peculiar twist
of nature, Jared considered, that anyone as heartless as Corinne Barrows should look so much like an angel. Her dark-gold hair was piled high and pinned with pearls, then covered by the veil. She carried New England fall flowers, the deep red and orange chrysanthemums accenting her lovely hair perfectly. Jared shook himself from his reverie as the minister began. The gaunt old man in white robes began the traditional wedding service, but Jared paid scant attention, and Corinne barely heard what was said. She had just realized that she was utterly alone, and likely to stay that way. After today, her father would not play a large part in her life, and Jared had promised not to interfere in her life at all. He had signed a paper agreeing to that. She had in effect made him state that he didn’t give a damn about her. And he didn’t. She would have only herself to depend on from today on.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Corrine gasped. She couldn’t run away now. It was over. She had said yes without even knowing it. She stood paralyzed as Jared lifted her veil and touched her cold lips with his.

“Smile, Mrs. Burk,” he whispered as he took her arm to escort her down the aisle. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She fixed a smile on her lips for the benefit of the guests, and was soon lost in a whirl of congratulations. She was passed from one man to another for the traditional bride’s kiss. Eventually Jared maneuvered her through the crowd and out of the church. They dashed to the waiting carriage that would take them to the photographer’s studio and then the reception at her home.

Riding in the carriage, avoiding Jared’s eyes, Corinne kept repeating to herself, it’s done, it’s done. She had her marriage certificate, which she had signed without
even looking at it. And at home she had the document that would make Jared honor his promises to her. It would be all right. She just had to get through tonight.

She sat through the picture-taking with an outward show of calm. Jared no longer seemed impatient. The pictures were taken quickly, and they left. They had not spoken more than a dozen words to each other.

The reception was in full swing when they arrived at the Barrows’ townhouse. Again they were bombarded with good wishes by a jubilant crowd. The party was gay. Samuel Barrows had ordered the best foreign delicacies and the most expensive champagne. Boston society could always unbend for a wedding party. Frequent toasts were made, and Corinne was seldom without a glass in her hand. But much sooner than she expected, Jared suggested they leave. Corinne refused and refused again, but finally Jared cornered her by the stairs.

“Go up and change, Corinne.”

There was a determined note in his voice, but she wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet to go with him.

“Won’t we be staying here for the night?”

“Under your father’s roof? Hardly,” he replied derisively. “We shall spend our short honeymoon at my hotel.”

“Not yet, Jared. It’s still early.”

He grabbed her elbow and his grip was unduly harsh. “I know what you’re trying to do, Corinne, but it won’t work. This night is mine, and I intend that we both enjoy it.”

“You can enjoy it all you want, but I certainly won’t!” she hissed, furious that he saw through her plan.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he said with a devilish smile that made her shiver.

“I don’t want to go yet, Jared.” She tried pouting, but it didn’t work.

“I will take you upstairs myself, Corinne, if I have to,” he warned her. “And if you’re not back down here in twenty minutes, then—”

“Very well!” She glared at him before she went upstairs in a huff.

Florence was waiting for her. A burgundy dress and cape were laid out on her bed. “I only just laid your clothes out. I didn’t think you would be up this soon.”

“Neither did I!” Corinne replied angrily.

“The other things you will need have already been sent to his hotel.”

“By whose orders?”

“Mr. Burk arranged it.”

“Did you know about this?”

“Come now, Cori. You didn’t really think you would spend your wedding night in your own home, did you?” Florence admonished.

“I just don’t like having things arranged for me without my knowledge.”

“Well, if you had taken the time to discuss things with your husband before today, you wouldn’t be surprised.”

“My husband? Yes, well, speaking of
him
, we had best hurry. He had the nerve to threaten to come up here and get me if I take too long.”

Florence chuckled. “He’s impatient, is he?”

“He’ll have his one night—but that’s all he’ll ever have!”

The ride to the hotel was accomplished in total silence. Corinne was feeling only a little light-headed from all the champagne she had consumed, but that was slowly slipping away because of her anger and, she had
to admit, her fear. She had hoped not to be aware of one minute of the ordeal, but Jared had thwarted her.

His hotel suite was large and luxurious, one of the best the management offered. There was a burgundy and gold living room, with a balcony overlooking the city, and a bedroom hidden by double doors. She eyed those doors warily as Jared took her cloak from her and tossed it on a sofa. Then she saw a bucket on the table with a bottle of champagne chilling in it.

Nodding towards the bottle, she smiled. “We haven’t toasted each other yet.”

“Let’s not be hypocritical, Corinne.”

“For God’s sake!” she snapped. “One more glass isn’t going to knock me out!”

He came over to her and lifted her chin to stare into her dark green eyes. “Very well, if you go and change while I fill the glasses.”

She turned away from him. “Can’t that wait a bit longer?”

“No.”

“Please, Jared.”

He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him again. “Reluctance was not part of our agreement, Corinne,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Why do you begrudge me this one night? I’m not going to hurt you again, I promised you that.”

She knew she was being unreasonable. She had demanded so much, yet this was all he had asked for in return.

“I’m sorry,” Corinne said weakly, lowering her eyes. “I guess I’m just—frightened.”

He drew her into his arms and held her gently for several long moments before he spoke. “I know. But you have nothing to fear from me.” He lifted her face to his and kissed her tenderly. “Tonight isn’t going to
be like the last time, Corinne. I’m not angry with you, and I promise not to lose my temper, so there is no reason for you to be afraid.”

He spoke so softly that she almost trusted him. Almost. She remembered the feelings that used to soar through her when he kissed her before. Perhaps she might enjoy tonight after all.