Page 84 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“It looks like water,” Margot murmured, just as riveted.
In silence, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
They stayed like that for a long time, watching the ebb and flow of the still. Mesmerized.
“That’s my last name in there,” Merrick finally said, pointing. “This is what it means. It’s yours now too. For better or worse.”
Margot nodded, understanding. It was profound, the way his sharing cracked open entire valleys inside her. Gorges. Eager to be filled, poured into, with more of him. She would never be full. Never tire. She wanted it all.
“You might not love it yet,” Merrick continued, peeking sideways at her, “but you will.”
Margot didn’t reply.
She didn’t need to. She was a hell of a lot closer to love than he’d ever know.
Anticipation was their bedfellow. Every day, they scoured the papers for news of repeal, for signs of weakening resolve amongst the Kentucky policymakers. Merrick stayed up late every night, making telephone calls to friends in the industry, rallying the troops.
“Last night, Colonel Blanton heard whiff of a state legislative hearing,” Merrick said as Margot slipped into her bedroom to dress for church. “He’s asked me to be there when the time comes. Together, we can talk some sense into those congressional bluenoses and put this ghastly decade behind us.”
“Mm-hmm,” Margot tossed back, distracted. She glanced nervously over her shoulder, having left the adjoining door open. Foolish. She rose on tiptoes to yank her wedding gown away from the doors to the balcony. The knots of the noose seemed especially tight this morning. Her fingers fumbled frantically. Merrick was still chattering away while he dressed, unaware.
“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, nails picking at the rope. She sighed with relief when the bonds gave, releasing the dress into her arms. She clutched the gown to her chest and closed her eyes. “Babette,” she whisper-hissed. “This little game is starting to get old.”
Third time this week.
A chill at her shoulder. “Who says it’s me?”
Margot whirled, expecting to see the socialite’s specter lounging on the corner chaise, eyebrow raised. The picture was so strong in her mind, she was convinced for half a second she reallydidsee her, but in a single blink, the image vanished. The chaise was empty.
Merrick’s footsteps were on the move, approaching the door. Hurriedly, Margot balled up the wedding gown and stashed it behind her back.
Merrick leaned in the doorway, head tilted and arms folded, the buttons on his shirt only half done. “Well, what do you say?” he asked, smiling impishly.
“To…what?”
“To playing hooky from church today. So I can get the mash bill working first thing.” His expression turned from playful to sinful, his gaze dragging up Margot’s nightdress-clad body. “Although, I could be convinced to delay a few hours for a lazy morning in bed with you.”
She laughed. “If you can delay your precious mash for a morning with me, you can delay for an hour of prayer. God doesn’t ask much of us, Merrick.”
He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. Margot held the smile on her face until he moved out of sight. She strode quickly to the closet and strung up the wedding dress, then tucked it into the farthest back corner. Same as always, to no avail.
“This game is getting tiresome,” she murmured again to Babette.
Tinkling spectral laughter answered, raising gooseflesh on her arms.
“I’m serious,” she hissed, stomping a foot. “Leave it alone this time, goldarn it.”
“Margot? Who’re you talking to?” Merrick called.
“Go on,” Babette whispered. “Tell him who haunts you, Margot dear. And in broad daylight? Tsk, tsk.”
Margot swallowed hard. Closed her eyes again.
She was going mad, wasn’t she? All of this was only happening in her head, wasn’t it?
Not real, not real.
“No one, love,” she called back. “No one at all.”
