Home for a Soldier (9 page)

Her mind whirled in chaos while the
preacher hurried through declaring them man and wife. He finished by saying,
“You may kiss the bride.”

Joe and Karim, who had behaved with
restraint until that moment, gave in to the urge to stomp and whistle. Grace
turned to Rory. Every drop of blood in her body throbbed to her lips. Rory
cupped his hand over her cheek and bent down. He kissed the corner of her mouth,
just a brush of his lips against the edge of hers. With a whimper of longing,
Grace increased the contact, leaning into him. Her hands drifted up to clutch
the lapels of his jacket.

Thank heavens I don’t have a bouquet
to hold.
She uncurled her
fingers and flattened her palms over the cloth to feel the solid contours
beneath. 
I’m married. I’m married to this man.
She, Grace Clements—no,
Grace Sullivan—an unemployed statistician, was married to a man so handsome half
the women in the world would kill to be in her white satin pumps. Rory’s arms
closed around her, and he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers in a
hungry demand that sent ripples of excitement down her spine.

“I’m afraid I have to hurry you,” the
preacher said. “You can continue outside.”

Rory released her and studied her
flushed face. “Congratulations, Mrs. Sullivan,” he told her. “You belong to me
now.”

Her breath stalled at his words.

* * * *

“Speech, speech!” a dozen soldiers
roared, banging coffee spoons against any suitable surface.

“Won’t the landlady mind the noise?”
Grace shouted to Rory over the din. She glanced through the archway that
connected the living room with the kitchen, where an agile woman in her
seventies dashed about, scraping leftovers and stacking dirty plates in the
dishwasher.

“Nah,” Rory yelled back. “She’s
thrilled to be in the thick of the action.” He leaned closer, so he wouldn’t
have to shout. “Muriel’s grandson is in Iraq. She puts up troops on R&R all the
time. Much cheaper than staying in the hotels downtown, and the food is great.”

Grace nodded. The dinner had
certainly been excellent, with salads and hot chicken in a spicy sauce, and a
choice of rice and potatoes and vegetables. Not any particular type of ethnic
food, but a bit of everything, just like the wedding guests.

With a shake of her head, Grace
surveyed the group of men. After the ceremony, she had expected Rory to deposit
her at the
Hotel Palazzo
and disappear with his friends to commiserate
his lost bachelorhood. Instead, the jeeps had whisked them along the Strip where
neon lights pulsed in the twilight, into a suburb where they parked outside a
sprawling ranch house surrounded by several jeeps in varied states of disrepair.

“The landlady’s son is a veteran on
disability,” Joe had explained. “He fixes up old jeeps for a hobby. We get to
borrow them before they’re sold off. You can always find one or two in running
order.”

During the meal, shared elbow to
elbow around a vast oak table, the daze that had seized Grace at the wedding
chapel didn’t lift. She heard the rowdy jokes, and she smiled and laughed, but
the words bounced off her, without penetrating her mind.

After the food was cleared away, she
drifted with the others into the living room, as aimless as a piece of bark
floating on a current.

“All right.” Rory took a step into
the centre of the room and raised his hands to command silence. “I’ll give you a
speech.” He waited until the crowd hushed. “What does a soldier want when he is
out on the battlefield?”

“To come out alive!”

“Equipment that works!”

“No.” Rory paused. “He wants someone
waiting for him at home.” He turned to Grace, held out his hand. “Will you wait
for me at home, Grace?”

Her heart thundered so hard the hem
of her dress fluttered. What was he asking her? Grace swallowed, met the
question in Rory’s dark eyes and gave him a slow nod, unsure of what she was
agreeing to, but certain that she’d offer him anything he cared to ask for.

“Yes,” she whispered and slipped her
hand into his. His fingers tightened around hers in a crushing grip.

“Grace is my wife now, under my
protection. I expect all of you to remember that.” He surveyed the soldiers,
lingering on a pair who sported a black eye and a cut lip. Both responded with
sheepish grins.

Rory turned to Grace and smiled. “I
want to dance with my wife.”

“Don’t we get to dish out the dirt on
you?” Joe yelled.

“No,” Rory said firmly. “Put the
music on.”

Someone fiddled with the CD player,
which had been belting out a mixture of soul and country during dinner. The
haunting uncertainty of Lionel Ritchie’s “
Hello
” flooded the room and
tugged at Grace’s heart. She stepped into Rory’s open arms, and he set into a
slow shuffle, his arms tight around her, his cheek pressed against her temple.

The world around Grace faded away.
There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, only the safety of Rory’s embrace, and the
heat of his body flowing into hers. Whatever happened, however difficult the
consequences of her temporary marriage, no matter what pain might accompany the
end, those few minutes offered such contentment she’d gladly pay the price.

“Tired?” Rory whispered, his mouth
grazing her ear.

“No. Yes.” She glanced up before
returning her head to rest on his shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

“Let me know when you want to go.
Karim will drive us back to the hotel.”

The music changed to something by
Elvis. A cluster of soldiers, some more inebriated than others, flocked into the
center of the room and ground their hips in an exaggerated imitation.

When the music changed again, Karim
strolled up and tapped Rory on the shoulder. “My turn to dance with the bride.”

Rory frowned, but stepped aside. “I
guess it’s customary to allow for a dance,” he drawled.

“Yes.” Karim flashed him a grin and
placed his hand on Grace’s waist. “And an even better custom is the one that
lets us
kiss
the bride.”

Rory glowered and edged closer. When
Karim laughed, Rory stopped short and raked his fingers through his hair,
appearing flustered by the realization that he’d had his buttons pushed. “I’ll
go and get a drink,” he muttered. “I’m behaving like a fool.”

Grace settled into a smooth swing in
Karim’s arms. “Are you sure you’ll be all right to drive?” She met his chocolate
eyes with a searching look. “If you’ve had too much to drink, we can call a
cab.”

“I’m a Muslim. I don’t drink.”

“Good,” Grace said, and blushed at
the thought that Karim might think she had commented on his religion instead of
his abstinence. “I don’t like to break the law,” she explained. “Especially on
my wedding day.”

“It’s okay.” He nudged her a little
closer. “I like to follow the rules, too.”

They danced a moment in silence.
“What happened to those two?” Grace tilted her head at a pair of soldiers
slipping out through the sliding doors to join the smokers on the patio.

“Al and Tyrone?”

“The ones with the black eye and the
cut lip. Rory was glaring at them when he made his speech.”

“You’d better ask him.”

“I’m asking you. As a fellow
law-abiding citizen.” When Karim didn’t reply, Grace pointed at Joe who stood by
the CD player, his head tipped back as he took a long gulp from a bottle of
beer. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Joe. He’s too drunk to be discreet.”

Karim guided her through a set of
complex steps and pulled her close again. “Rory beat them up.”

“Why?”

Karim hesitated. “They made unkind
comments about you. They said your name should be Disgrace, not Grace.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment burned her
cheeks. “I guess I’m a little…dowdy.”

“Grace.” Karim pushed her half a step
back and studied her face. “They were just winding Rory up. They were as stunned
as the rest of us when you appeared in your wedding dress, looking like an
angel.” He supported her through another turn. “But there
is
something
you ought to think about.”

“What?”

“Why did Rory leap to your defense?”
Karim paused. “He could have brushed it off. Instead, he pounced like a tiger,
furious on your behalf.”

Grace shrugged and said nothing. She
lowered her eyes, confused by the feelings that battled inside her as pleasure
over Rory’s reaction eased the sting of the mocking words.

Karim folded her close, allowing her
to hide her discomfort. “Don’t let Rory’s looks fool you. I’ve never known him
to have a girlfriend. Only casual flings. I think he’s had his heart shattered
in the past. I’d hate to see it happen to him again.”

Grace forced an uncertain laugh, so
ridiculous was the idea that she possessed the weapons to hurt a man like Rory
Sullivan. “It’s just a fake marriage,” she said. “You know that.”

Karim didn’t reply.  Instead, he
passed her on to Joe, who had sauntered up and stood waiting for his turn.

“How’s the bride?” Joe slurred, his
eyes twinkling out of focus. “Sorry,” he said after a loud hiccup. “I had to
stay sober to drive yesterday. I’m catching up.”

“Doesn’t seem to affect your
dancing,” Grace told him.

“You are talking to the jive champion
of Montgomery County,” Joe boasted, and dipped her nearly horizontal, his arm
tight around her waist. He leaned over and yanked her up to his chest, with an
obvious intent of kissing her.

Grace let out a frantic cry, not
because she feared Joe’s kiss, but because they were toppling out of balance. He
would crush her. As she flailed her arms, trying to squirm free, Joe’s body was
hoisted away from her.

Grace straightened to witness Rory
propping Joe to his feet. “If you try to kiss my wife again, I’ll twist your
dick into such a tight knot you’ll never piss straight again,” Rory growled.
“Are we clear on that?” He gave Joe a shake that rattled his head on his
shoulders.

“We were just dancing,” Joe
protested.

“You were about to fall over and use
Grace as your landing pad. She could have been hurt.”

“Sorry.” Joe gave an awkward shrug.
“I haven’t danced with a woman in months. I got carried away.”

Grace placed a restraining hand on
Rory’s arm. “It’s my fault. I don’t dance well enough to keep up with Joe.”

“Are you okay?” Rory glanced at her
over his shoulder.

“I’m fine.” She offered him a shaky
smile. “Everything’s lovely, but I’m a little tired. If it’s all right, I’d like
to go back to the hotel now.”

“Sure.” Rory released Joe and pulled
Grace to his side. “We’ll just say goodbye to Muriel and the boys.” He signaled
to Karim, who left to get the vehicle ready.

Without fuss, Rory toured the room,
exchanging a few words with each group of soldiers. Sheltering in his shadow,
Grace avoided the looks that bombarded her. Speculation, amusement, even
sympathy. Color stung her cheeks as she accepted the reason for their curiosity.

The wedding night.

If her guess didn’t miss, as soon as
they were gone, the soldiers would start laying bets over what would happen
between her and Rory now that they had been declared man and wife.

During the drive through the Strip,
hundreds of neon signs pulsed in the night around them, like endless fireworks.
Rory felt Grace shivering with cold beside him. He removed his jacket and draped
it over her shoulders, then wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. She
leaned into him, seeking his warmth. The front of her dress fluttered in the
breeze, allowing him a peek of her pointed breasts. The memory of her standing
almost naked in the middle of the hotel room returned to tantalize him.

Indecision tore at his gut. He had
planned to keep away from her, but on Monday, he’d leave for Iraq, one of the
most dangerous places in the world. Grace had ignited a need inside him, and
they
were
legally married.

What if he didn’t come back?

By his side, Grace tipped her head
back to keep strands of hair from blowing into her eyes. The creamy white curve
of her throat reflected the blue and green and pink of the neon lights that
flickered along the roadside. He recalled how it had felt to nuzzle her neck,
inhale the faint scent of flowers on her skin.

She was his
wife
. Why should
he feel so troubled about wanting her?

They sat in silence, his body
sheltering Grace from the cold, until Karim pulled up outside their hotel. After
wishing his friend goodbye, Rory descended and helped Grace down, his hands
curled around her waist. Despite her height, Grace possessed a fragile
femininity that hadn’t been so obvious when she wore jeans.

He held her close, not releasing her.
She stared up at him, her hands clutching his shoulders, her eyes wide with
apprehension, and Rory guessed that her mind dwelled on the same topic as his.