Kyle caught the attention of their waitress and ordered two rum swizzlers. He spoke in French, which made Madison realize that French was the official language of the island. Then he led Madison to the buffet table. She suddenly realized she was starving. The atmosphere was so different, so far from home. She piled on ribs, pineapple casserole, something labeled Garden Delight and corn bread. When they returned to the table, their drinks were there, tall, icy strawberry-colored concoctions with oranges and cherries on top.

“Looks like a slushie,” Madison said.

“Tastes like one, too,” he assured her.

It did. It was sweet without being too sweet. She couldn’t even taste the rum in it.

It went down like a slushie, too. Kyle ordered them both another.

“So is Gene really an ex-CIA man?”

“He is. He worked for the government for twenty-five years, then decided he’d had enough. He loved the water, so he opened this place. Now he bathes in tropical breezes and tries to enjoy the rest of his life.”

“Tries?”

“In my business, you can never forget some of the things you’ve seen.”

She nodded.

He reached out his hand, covering hers. “But you live with it. You learn that life is precious, worth fighting for as long as you’re breathing.”

“I know.”

He sat back, sipping his drink. “I didn’t. Not for a long time after Fallon died.”

“It’s hard,” Madison said softly.

“And you never forget. You just go on.”

She nodded, sipping the last of her second drink. A third magically appeared.

“You know I have no tolerance for alcohol,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“I could pass out on you.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re not going to have to get me drunk to sleep with you, you know.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I know that, too.”

She tapped her cheek. The drinks were really deceptive. She couldn’t feel her face anymore.

“Finish your drink, then we’ll take a walk. There’s a really pretty little church built by pirates about three hundred years ago down that path.”

“I’m not sure I can walk.”

“I’ll help you.”

The world was spinning. But it was spinning beautifully. Lanterns seemed to be ablaze everywhere. The island colors were vibrant. The breeze was like a balm. It seemed impossible that she had nearly been killed that afternoon. It seemed so far away.

She was totally tipsy, she realized. And tipsy was good. She didn’t have a worry in the world. Tonight she was going to sleep without nightmares.

She wasn’t tipsy, she realized. She was absolutely inebriated.

Sloshed.

She tried hard not to act it. “This is gorgeous,” she told Kyle.

“Glad you like it. There’s the church.”

There were other people in the church. A priest, a couple of the waitresses in their sarongs. Candles were lit, and there were flowers on the altar. The floor was lined with memorials; stained-glass windows arched high over ancient tombs.

“It’s great. This place is great.”

“Glad you like it. We’re going to get married here.”

“No we’re not!”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do? I’m a little out of it, but people don’t get married just because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Okay, I’ll get down on one knee,” he said, then did. “Marry me, Madison.”

“Because I’m great in bed and you’re trying to keep me alive? No!”

“There are worse reasons.”

“Kyle, is this for real?”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It is.”

“When did you arrange this?”

“When you were in X ray.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Look, I’m down on one knee, Madison. Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“To me.”

“No.”

“Think of Carrie Anne.”

“I do think of her. Always.”

“You want to marry me.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Say yes.”

“I can say whatever the hell you want, Kyle. That doesn’t—”

“Come here. Come with me.”

He led her down the aisle. Everyone was staring at her, the priest smiling as he opened a book and started to speak.

She started to laugh. “Oh, God, Kyle! What kind of a setup is this?”

“Just answer the man.”

She tapped her cheek again. She still couldn’t feel her face. She was going to collapse any minute, she realized. Damn those rum swizzlers. Damn Kyle.

The priest was droning away in French. She had no idea what he was saying.

Kyle prodded her. “Say yes.”

She stared at him. He put his arm around her, and he nodded her head for her.

“Say yes.”

“Yes.”

The priest smiled benignly. He had two faces. No, three. He started talking again, and Kyle murmured something in return. Kyle had her hand. She felt something cold.

“I’m going to pass out,” she told him.

“Sure. Just another few minutes.”

“I’m going to throw up all over you,” she warned.

“Don’t you dare!” he whispered.

She heard cheering all around her. The world was spinning, spinning insanely.

She started to fall.

Kyle swept her up, carrying her from the church and out into the night. The fresh air helped.

“You know better than to let me drink so much!” she told him.

“You’ll survive.”

They reached their room, a little bungalow on the grounds. It was air-conditioned, the temperature deliciously cool. He laid her down on the bed, where she stayed, watching the ceiling fan swirling above her. Suddenly she leaped up, racing to the bathroom.

Kyle was right behind her. “Breathe through your nose. I’ve made some coffee for you, but try the shower for a few minutes.” He helped her shed her ridiculous tourist clothing, then helped her into the shower, heedless of the fact that his flowered shirt was getting soaked. The water felt good. She began to feel like living. She managed to get out of the shower and into one of the terry robes. Back in the bedroom area, she sank down to sit on the bed. He put a cup of coffee into her hands.

“What a wedding night,” he said smiling.

“We aren’t really married,” she told him.

“We are.”

“It’s impossible. How could you have set up such a thing? You never asked me. This—Everything just happened today.”

“I have friends in high places.”

“I didn’t marry you. Fear and good sex are not good reasons for marriage.” She shoved the coffee cup back at him and threw herself down on the pillows. Her eyes closed. “Why do this? Why marry me? Just to keep me safe? You called me a witch. You thought I was somehow responsible for Fallon’s death.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Madison, I’ve seen you suffer. I know that you hurt for Fallon, nothing more. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“You’re sorry? Oh, Kyle, you can’t marry someone just because…” Her voice trailed away.

Kyle sat down by her side, lifting her damp hair from her face, smiling.

She was out cold.

“I married you, you little fool, because I’ve loved you half my life, and I was too stupid to realize it most of the time. And I am going to keep you alive,” he said.

She hadn’t heard a word he’d said, of course, but that didn’t matter. He lay down beside her and drew her close.

She sighed in her sleep.

Maybe it was him.

Most likely it was the rum.

But for once she slept soundly, without nightmares.

16

Madison awoke with a pounding headache, afraid to lift her eyelids. Her mouth was dry, her throat was aching, and she couldn’t even croak to find out if anyone would listen if she begged for water.

She finally opened her eyes. The room was still spinning. As long as she lived, she didn’t want to taste another rum swizzler. She tried to sit up. The spinning sensation was worse.

She crashed back down, groaning.

“You are going to live.”