Jayne Castle - Bridal Jitters

"I told you," Virginia said to Adeline. "Sam wants to hang on to this house until some developer is willing to pay big bucks for it. He offered to cut me in on the profits. It's a terrific business opportunity for me." Who was she trying to convince? She wondered.

Adeline reached for a piece of neon-orange candy. "Maybe the fact that it's just a business deal is part of the problem. Maybe that's not what you want."

No, Virginia thought. It most definitely was not what she wanted. Late this afternoon, after a long walk and a cup of coffee in the lonely little park at the end of the street, she had finally forced herself to face that fact. She was in love with Sam, but all he wanted from her was her signature on a contract. Marriage, especially a marriage-of-convenience, would be hell. The frustration factor alone would probably drive her to the nearest para-psych ward within a month. She was almost sure now that she could not go through with the arrangement.

But she had not yet figured out how to tell Sam.

She had planned to get things out in the open tonight. Then she had opened the door of the office and walked straight into the engagement party.

She could hardly bring up the subject now in the midst of a party. She would wait until morning. Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell him that she was having second thoughts.

She felt a guilty sense of relief at having made the decision to put off the inevitable for another few hours.

She was getting cold feet. He could feel the chill clear across the room. Every time he caught her eye, she averted her gaze or started up an earnest conversation with whoever happened to be standing nearby.

The last of the guests finally departed shortly after midnight. Sam closed the door behind the laggard and turned to see Virginia sinking down into the chair behind her desk. His bride-to-be looked both relieved and exhausted. She also looked cross. But then, lately she frequently looked tense and irritable. Bridal jitters. The odd thing was that the more anxious she got, the calmer and more certain he became.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Thought they'd never go."

"They meant well," he said.

"I know." She rested her head against the back of her chair. "But they don't understand."

"Sure they do. We're getting married. People like to celebrate marriages. Even MCs."

"I don't see why."

"Because there is a streak of the romantic buried somewhere inside most people," he explained patiently. "Deep down, everyone hopes that marriages-of-convenience will morph into the real thing."

"That's a highly unrealistic expectation. Statistically speaking, most MCs end on the first or second renewal date unless someone makes a mistake and gets pregnant." She paused meaningfully. "And there is absolutely no excuse for that kind of mistake."

"Right. No excuse."

Few mistakes of that sort were made because the First Generation colonists who had settled Harmony had crafted very strict legislation covering marriage and family. The more liberal social policies of Earth had been abandoned when the energy Curtain that had served as a gate between worlds had unexpectedly closed, stranding the settlers. The founders, desperate to provide a social structure that would ensure the survival of the colony, had opted for stern laws. But in their wisdom, the First Generation planners had also understood that harsh rules that did not take human weaknesses into account would ultimately fail. Failure of the social structure of the tiny band of desperate settlers would mean catastrophe.

In an effort to deal with basic human foibles, the founders had provided the socially and legally sanctioned marriages-of-convenience to cover many of the traditional and less-than-romantic reasons that drove people into wedlock: family pressure, business, or simple passion. Couples who elected to have children were expected to file for the more formal covenant marriage.

The muted warble and twang of a high-rez rock guitar sounded from the street. Sam crossed the office to the window, made a space between the blinds, and studied the night-shrouded sidewalk.

The Old Quarter teemed with revelers tonight. The heavy river fog that had cloaked Cadence nightly for the past several days had deterred no one. People dressed as witches, goblins, and ghosts—the fairytale sort, not the very real remnants of dangerous alien energy known as unstable dissonance energy manifestations—drifted in and out of the mists. Orange lights came and went eerily in the shadows. As Sam watched, a grinning jack-o'-lantern appeared out the gloom. Someone shrieked in pretended fright. Raucous laughter echoed in the night.

This was Halloween eve, and the noise level was already high. Tomorrow night, Halloween night, would be bedlam. Half of Cadence would flock to the Old Quarter to party. There was no place in town quite as atmospheric at Halloween as the seedy districts adjacent to the ancient walls of the Dead City.

In this part of town, ambient psi energy leaked continuously through tiny, often invisible cracks in the emerald-colored stones. It seeped up from the endless miles of green quartz tunnels and corridors beneath the pavement. The little currents and eddies of energy were part of the lure of the Old Quarters of all the cities on Harmony that had been built near the sites of ancient ruins. Tourists and locals alike loved the creepy sensations, especially at this time of year.

Maybe there was something to the theory that the flickers of psychic and para energy were stronger at this time of year, Sam thought. Ever since he had been a kid running loose on the streets, it had always seemed to him that he was more aware of the traces of ancient alien psi energy at Halloween. Tonight was no exception. The not-quite-human trickles of power that leaked out of the Dead City felt very strong. The stuff whispered through his mind, making him deeply aware of the unseen paranormal world that hovered just beyond the range of the physical senses. The surge in power levels that he detected were probably nothing more than the result of his overactive imagination, he thought. The same imagination that had conjured up the brilliant idea of talking Virginia into a marriage-of-convenience.

In hindsight, all he could say was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Behind him, Virginia yawned. "We'd better get some sleep. Mac Ewert will be expecting us early tomorrow morning. He's anxious to get his excavation site cleared so that he can get his team back on the job. He made a big point of reminding me of how much money he's losing with every day of lost work."

"You're right. We need some sleep. Don't want to doze off in front of Gage & Burch's first client." Sam turned away from the window. "I'll see you to your door."

For a few seconds, the tension in her eyes retreated. She gave him a familiar, laughing smile, the kind of smile she had bestowed on him frequently until he had asked her to merge her business with his and file for an MC. At the sight of the glowing look, he felt his whole body tighten. The desire he had worked so hard to conceal for the past two months heated his blood. With every passing hour it was getting harder to quash the rush of sexual anticipation that stirred him whenever he was near Virginia.

By the time his nonwedding night arrived, he would be a basket case.

What the hell had he been thinking? A marriage-of-convenience in which he slept on the third floor while Virginia slept on the second floor was going to make him certifiably crazy.

She rose from the chair and stretched. "I thought it was my turn to see you to your door."

"Want to flip a coin?"

"Okay, but this time let's try one of my mine. I don't trust that one that you like to use. It always comes up heads." She dug a quarter out of her pocket. "Call it."