Northern Rebel: Daring in the Dark Page 6

  The nondenominational church was very simple. No stained glass graced the windows. The pews, obviously hand-hewn, boasted clean lines. The gleaming wood floors were dirt-free but worn, complimenting the white-washed walls. There was no choir loft or ornamentation. A plain wooden pulpit stood in the front of the room. To its right sat a highly polished ebony Steinway baby grand piano.

  She leaned in close to Skye and murmured, “A baby grand? Really?”

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It was donated by a wealthy tourist who spent last summer fishing here. He also foots the bill on having a piano tuner flown out every three months to keep it sounding perfect.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. But it gets a lot of use. Jefferson gives free piano lessons on Tuesday nights.”

  The piano should have looked incongruous. Instead it flowed beautifully with the room’s simplicity. It was as if everything else was deliberately void of ornamentation to showcase the instrument’s elegance.

  The room imparted a soothing tranquillity, which had been absent from so many of the churches Delphi had been in over the years. A spirit of peace prevailed.

  Two pillar candles at the front, flanking boughs of evergreens, carried the theme of simplicity. Delphi caught the occasional scent of jasmine. Above the quiet murmur of voices in the church, the sound of birdsong drifted through the windows, carried on the breeze that ruffled through the room.

  A well-dressed man whom she recognized as one of the older gentlemen playing chess in the airstrip office yesterday made his way to the piano and sat down.

  Skye leaned over and whispered in Delphi’s ear. “Jefferson is a former jazz player. His instrument of choice is the saxophone but he plays the piano and cello, as well.”

  Good Riddance certainly had an interesting array of people. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at everyone. The room quieted. Outside, however, the birds were impervious and continued their own songs.

  Flexing his fingers, Jefferson ran through a series of notes or chords or whatever—Delphi was piano illiterate—in what was obviously a warm-up. He segued into the song known to Delphi as a tune she’d heard numerous times at her gran’s. In her head she could hear Sinatra crooning about fairy tales coming true as he sang “Young at Heart.”

  And in the back of her mind, ever since they’d shown up at the church, she’d been wondering and waiting to see Lars. She’d heard him moving about in his room last night and this morning but rather incredibly, considering their rooms were right next to one another and given the size of the town, they hadn’t bumped into one another. She’d heard him but hadn’t seen him since yesterday evening’s kiss.

  Beside her, Skye whispered, “Aw, that’s sweet. Tansy’s book is about finding your fairy tale romance.”

  “Appropriate.” Delphi thought it was a nice sentiment, but thus far the fairy tale that had transpired in her life was more along the lines of the Brothers Grimm.

  A very colorful, to put it politely, woman with bright red hair, turquoise eye shadow and melon-colored lipstick walked up the front. She wore a vintage pink satin evening gown and matching turban with bedraggled pink and orange feathers adorning the turban’s front. Settling one hand on the piano, she faced the group and smiled. She was missing a few teeth and was seventy if she was a day.

  “Alberta is a gypsy queen, fortune-teller and matchmaker,” Skye offered in a whisper.

  No teasing smile or twinkle in Skye’s eyes indicated she was anything but serious. Delphi nodded. Alberta looked like a gypsy queen.

  A woman with steel-gray hair and a severe gray dress replaced Jefferson at the Steinway. After retrieving a saxophone, he positioned himself to the left of the piano.

  The ensemble waited while a thin man with owlish glasses followed by Liam and Lars Reinhardt walked to the front and took up the customary wedding places. Skye had told her earlier that Mack Darcy officiated at most of the funerals and weddings.

  Mack, Liam and Lars faced the congregation. Delphi’s heart began to race and her breath seemed trapped somewhere in her chest. Lars quite literally stole her breath. She’d thought he was handsome before but in his dress blues...

  Mr. Darcy motioned for everyone to stand. The musicians began playing and thanks once again to her gran, Delphi recognized the opening notes of “It Had to Be You” even before the gypsy queen clad in pink satin began to sing.

  Delphi fought against her mouth gaping open. Nothing had ever been more unexpected than the slightly husky, smooth notes coming from Alberta’s orange-hued mouth.

  An extremely well-endowed blonde wearing a light blue silk shantung tea-length sheath preceded the bride and her father. Tansy seemed to float along in a wedding gown that was tiers of tulle and organza and a veil that trailed down her back. She carried a simple bouquet of blue flowers tied with a flowing white ribbon. Delphi was pretty sure the flowers were forget-me-nots. She recognized it as the state flower from reading online about Alaska. They were delicate and it was a great sentiment for a wedding.

  Even though she was still on her father’s arm, Tansy and Liam only had eyes for one another as the song continued.

  Despite herself, Delphi’s gaze was drawn to Lars. He was looking at her. It was as if everyone in the church faded to nothing and it was just the two of them watching one another across the room.

  A torrent of attraction engulfed Delphi. The moments spun out like a magical spell—the saxophone, the words, the man.

  The song ended and she shook her head slightly to clear it. She brought her attention back to where it should be instead of making goo-goo eyes at a man she was starting to want so much, but wasn’t sure she actually liked. It all made her feel rather crazy.

  Of course, it was no more surreal than being caught up in one of the biggest occasions in the lives of people she didn’t know. Why not find herself enthralled with a man she didn’t want to be enthralled with?

  Tansy’s father handed her over. The busty matron of honor wept openly, but it was obviously tears of joy. The exchange of vows was brief and simple, yet sincere. At one point, Delphi blinked back a tear or two. The devotion on the bride’s and groom’s faces moved her. It was a glimpse of something precious and pure, but real.

  Delphi had never been one to sit around dreaming about her wedding day. She knew plenty of women who had the dress and ring picked out long before an actual groom showed up on the scene. She’d never quite understood it. She’d been so focused on her career and establishing her own path that marriage had been put on the back burner...and it still was there.

  However, this wedding struck her as what a wedding should be—a public vow of devotion, a sharing of their mutual love with friends and family...and a stranger.

  Mr. Darcy declared them married and the room erupted into clapping and even a whistle or two. Liam kissed Tansy and once again, Delphi couldn’t keep her glance from straying to Lars. Delphi felt as if she was falling down the proverbial rabbit hole.

  A few more people made their way to the front, picked up instruments and gathered in front of the couple. The musicians broke into a rousing rendition of “When the Saints Come Marching In” as they made their way down the aisle, followed by the couple. Everyone stood and began dancing. After a moment’s hesitation, Delphi joined in. It was the strangest music choice, particularly for a wedding, but it was fun.

  She realized as she danced along with the crowd into the dazzling sunshine that she’d forgotten all about being miserable.

  * * *

  THE RECEPTION WAS just cranking up when he saw Delphi sashay through the community center door with her posse. She and the town doc were tight and there were a couple of other women and men with them. He’d been watching for her to arrive, waiting. She was rocking a green-and-white sundress, or more accurately, she was rocking him.

  She saw him, too. For a second their gazes were enmeshed, just like earlier at the church, then she looked away. He pushed away from the wall and crossed the room, through the people
who thronged in the center. He could swear the whole town had shown up for the reception.

  And he wasn’t the only one approaching Delphi with intent. There was one guy incoming at 0500 and another one at 0900. He cut hard to the right, maneuvering past a small group in his way. He was damn near neck and neck with the enemy approaching from the 0500 position. He made a tactical split decision and zigged, forcing the other guy to zag. That zag put Lars’s opposing force behind a group of older Native ladies. As to the incoming from 0900, that guy was simply too slow.

  Lars reached Delphi first, just as her posse scattered. She obviously had no idea she’d been the target of the two other maneuvers.

  “Hi, Blondie.”

  Over her shoulder he saw the other guy retreat...for now.

  A small smile curved her lips. “Hello, Marine. Nice wedding.”

  “I suppose.” The best thing about it had been the brevity. And his brother and Tansy had looked pretty happy about getting hitched. “Better Liam than me.”

  “I’m sure the bride thinks so, as well,” she said with a smart-ass smile.

  “Undoubtedly.” He grinned. “That makes it a win-win all the way around.”

  “I take it you’re not big on marriage.”

  “Actually, I’m allergic.”

  “Allergies can be debilitating,” she said. She smelled good. He wished they were alone. He would see if that spot on the side of her neck was as sweet as he imagined it would be, as sweet as her lips had been. “You should seek help for that.”

  “I have. I steer clear. Avoidance is the safest course of action. For a woman with nothing to wear, you look...nice.” He leaned in closer, putting his lips next to her ear, her shoulder brushing against his. He murmured for her ears only, “Although that dress is slightly wicked and leads to not entirely nice thoughts.”

  Even though it wasn’t overtly sexy, the top hugged her breasts and followed the lean line of her body to the curve of her hips. The green and white was cool, like spring grass, but it made him think of heat and the tantalizing parts that lay beneath the innocuous fabric.

  She turned her head and spoke softly in his ear. Her breath against his skin sent a shiver through him, tightening parts and hardening others. “Does that line usually work for you?” she said.

  A couple jostled them as they passed, and she was momentarily pushed against him. He caught her...and held on. “I don’t know—I’ve never used it before. Is it working?”

  She smiled as she slipped out of his grasp. “How easily they forget,” she murmured. She said to him, “Remember? I’m immune.”

  “Is that so?” He’d be just as happy to skip the former boyfriend bashing, just like he had no interest in divulging his relationship history. He kept it light and flirtatious. “But then new strains come along and are resistant. Defenses, antibiotics, vaccinations, none of those work.” He nodded toward the crush of people dancing in the middle of the room. “We should dance. If you continue to stand this close to me, people are going to talk.”

  Of course, he didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought but teasing her and flirting with her was fun. And dancing was a good excuse to hold her close.

  “Worried about your reputation, Sergeant?”

  “I do have to consider it.”

  “Morally compromised?”

  He laughed. “Always.” He formally bowed from the waist and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

  “Why am I sure I’m going to regret this?” Nonetheless she placed her hand in his.

  He took her into his arms and swung her out onto the dance floor. She felt good and right next to him. “You know moral compromise is highly contagious.”

  She tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes alight with challenge and humor. “I told you I have a strong immune system.”

  He simply smiled. Not only was he well versed in mounting the offensive, he thrived on it.

  And last night’s reconnaissance kiss had sealed it for both of them. For the next six days, she was his primary objective.

  * * *

  NELSON WAS THE DJ of the evening. Apparently Tansy had a thing for nostalgic music, since “All of Me” was playing. Delphi laughed with exhilaration as Lars expertly twirled her around the dance floor. She’d never danced to this kind of music and she’d never been with a partner who possessed his skill level. He was a man of surprises.

  Slightly breathless from the exertion and the man himself, she said, “Where’d you learn to dance like this?”

  “I took lessons in high school. I like to dance.”

  It was different, that was for sure, but then he was pretty darn different. He excelled at ballroom dance, and he detonated bombs, and he kissed like heaven. “You’re good at it.”

  “I’m good at lots of things.”

  Even his slight smirk held an element of charm. “Is that a fact or an opinion?”

  “Some of both.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I could show you my certificates.”

  “Oh, you’re certified. Impressive.”

  “I don’t carry them around with me so I guess I’ll just have to let you decide for yourself.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Ah. So you trust me.” The music segued into a slower number. He pulled her closer against him.

  She gave a carefree laugh. “Hardly.” And the beauty of it was that whatever went on between them didn’t require any degree of trust.

  “I’m wounded.”

  Right. And she was the Queen of England. She giggled. His lighthearted flirtation was impossible to resist. And the press of her breasts against his chest went a long way in fixing everything, except the sensual ache that was growing more and more intense.

  “Don’t take it personally,” she tossed back at him, in the same lighthearted flirtatious vein.

  “Does that mean you don’t trust anyone?” He dipped her, his arm strong and sure behind her back, his left hand firm on her waist while his other hand clasped hers. Within seconds he’d righted her. It had all happened so quickly and been rather thrilling.

  “A select few.”

  “Ah. Cautious.” He rested his chin against her hair, tucking her in against him. She felt simultaneously secure and vulnerable, which was as unsettling as the thud of his heart against hers.

  “Hard-won lessons.”

  “I understand.”

  She doubted it, but who was she to argue? “If you say so.”

  He pulled back to peer down at her, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re a difficult woman to have a conversation with.”

  “I am? You seem to have plenty to say.” She was only half teasing him. The man never seemed at a loss for words.

  “Case in point. I have to do all the talking.”

  “That’s easy enough.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “Find another conversational partner.” The minute the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t what she really wanted.

  “Ah, but I don’t want to have a conversation with someone else. I want to talk to you.”

  “And you want to talk to me why?”

  “You intrigue me.”

  She laughed. “No, I don’t.”

  His expression said she’d caught him by surprise. “Hmm. Then why do you think I want to be with you?”

  “You only want to talk to me because I’m not interested. I’m not wowed by your good looks or your charm.” Well, they both knew that wasn’t the absolute truth.

  “You’re not? Damn.”

  “I told you I was immune.”

  “So, let’s talk. Then we’ll see whether I’m still interested. Either way you’re only out a few hours, right?”

  “Hmm.” She was shamelessly teasing him by pretending to think about it.

  “Given how talkative you are, I think you just said, ‘You’re right, Lars. I think that’s a spectacular experiment. Let’s give it a try.’”

  All
her resolve and good sense seemed to flee in the face of the fun she was having. She laughed at him.

  Delphi didn’t know who was more foolish—him with his disarming charm, or her for being so unwillingly but easily disarmed.

  * * *

  DELPHI HADN’T EXPECTED to have so much fun. She’d anticipated staying just long enough to make a decent appearance and then head back to her room. Instead she’d been dancing, eating cake, drinking punch and meeting so many people her head was spinning. She’d never remember all their names.

  And the entire time she’d been aware of Lars Reinhardt’s exact location. Most of the time he’d been at her side. And when he wasn’t with her, he’d catch her eye across the room. He was attentive, she’d give him that, and actually it had worked out fairly well that she’d been his “date.” The last thing she needed or wanted was the local single men jockeying for her attention. She didn’t want even a hint of scandal associated with her in this new position.

  The men and women had been divided on opposite sides of the room. All the single men gathered in one spot. It didn’t escape Tansy’s notice that Lars positioned himself with the married group, the same as Delphi stood on the fringe of all the married women. The crowd counted in unison, “One...two...three....”

  Facing the women, Liam tossed the garter over his shoulder into the crowd of single guys. Curl caught it. A cacophony of catcalls and whistles and a few good-natured rumblings from the men accompanied the catch.

  Tansy faced the men across the room. Once again there was the communal countdown and Tansy threw the bouquet high and wide. A woman with a long dark braid down her back who looked distinctly Inuit caught the flowers. The room really broke into cheering then.

  “This should be interesting.”

  Delphi glanced beside and slightly behind her. It was Alberta, the woman in the pink satin and turban. “That’s Luellen Sisnuket, Nelson and Clint’s cousin. She and Curl have been an on-again, off-again item for a while now. I’ve got a feeling they’re about to be permanently on.”

  Delphi laughed. “They’re in trouble now.”

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