The Rancher's Inconvenient Bride Read online

  “That thing I discovered about myself—that I cannot be in control of everything. Well, I haven’t the right to think I can. Things will happen in life. Because of them I might grieve or I might laugh. I can’t do anything about that. But I can love. That’s the one thing I can do, Agatha.”

  He reached across, cupped her cheek. Maybe she would think the moisture gathering in his eyes was water from splashing, but if she did not, he didn’t care.

  “I can love you. I do love you.”

  “That’s all I want.”

  “Will you come to my bedroom?”

  “Well—it’s a long walk and Mrs. Bea says—”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Please, honey, don’t start me laughing again.”

  William went up on his hands and knees, shifted toward her...over her. He brought to mind a sleek and powerful predator. For all that she leaned backward, she would not flee from him.

  “But she has some interesting ideas.”

  Water rushed over her chest, down her belly—between her legs—tickling and caressing. It was impossible not to picture some of those ideas in her mind.

  William lowered himself until his mouth hovered over her only inches away. Her heart beat triple time wondering what he was going to do with it. Nip? Lick? Caress?

  “What do you want from our marriage?”

  This was too big a question to answer with newly awakened sensations demanding her utter and complete attention.

  Too bad—or luckily—sitting up did not dispel them. Corralling thoughts was not possible, but her heart spoke up, quite loudly.

  “Fun.” It was the very thing that had been lacking in her life.

  “Fun?” He sat back on his heels, brows arched. Perhaps he had been expecting something more profound.

  “Exactly.”

  Now it was her turn to play the predator. She touched his shoulder, crawled over him until he had no choice to lie back in the water. She watched it wash over his strong, muscled body. Did it caress him with cool, lusty fingers the way it had done to her?

  “I want to wake up in the morning to a kiss and a smile. I want to see you in a hallway and touch you in passing. At the end of the day I want to lie beside you and hear the funny things that happened to you, laugh over them.”

  Lowering herself, she let her breasts brush his chest, felt the masculine hairs catch her nipples when the current gently brushed them across his skin.

  “Fun, William. It’s what I’ve been missing all my life.”

  This time he was the one to scoot to a sitting position, but he set her on top of his lap. She felt his intentions toward her against her nether cheek.

  “For me, too.” He nuzzled her neck with kisses. “For years all I’ve thought about was what people would think of me. How would they vote if I cursed in public, or laughed too loud or didn’t laugh at all? If I acted inappropriate in any way, how would they vote? It’s why I forced you to marry me.”

  “I wasn’t forced. Just so you know, I chose to do it.”

  “Did you? I’m glad.” Leaning forward, he lowered his head to the tip of her breast, nipped and suckled it. “From now on, my sweet wife, let’s have fun.”

  All of a sudden he stood up, swept her up with him and carried her to the bank.

  “I thought that is what we were doing.”

  “It is.” He grinned and set her down. Even in the dark she saw a twinkle flash in his eye. “Lift up your arms.”

  She did. He yanked her camisole back over her head, quickly kissing each breast before he tucked them out of sight.

  He held the bloomers for her to step into. While he pulled them over her thighs, he stroked and caressed them. Just before he slid them over her hips, he stopped, looked her in the eye and smiled. Then he touched her where she had never been touched—caressed, petted—then stepped away to yank on his pants.

  “Fun?” His brows arched over his grin.

  All she could do was nod because for some reason when he touched her there, he’d stolen her voice.

  Stooping, he gathered the rest of their clothes and tucked them under his arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Where?”

  He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the gate in the fence.

  “To our bedroom. I won’t take you among the weeds.”

  “But we have to cross the yard—we aren’t dressed.”

  He winked, drew the gate open. “We’ll have to be quick. They’re still in the ballroom.”

  “We should get dressed first.”

  “You wanted fun? This is fun.”

  “It’s daring.”

  “Fun.” It only took the slightest yank of her hand to convince her it was true.

  “Let’s go!” She felt laughter building in her chest again but held it back lest anyone hear.

  Hand in hand they dashed across the yard, she in her camisole and bloomers, William bare-chested with a bundle of clothes tucked under his arm.

  Grass sprung up between her toes, warm air rushed past her ears. Halfway across, someone noticed them. Bert Warble’s mouth sagged open to his collar.

  William nodded, laughed out loud, then hurried her past the rose garden and into the house through the kitchen.

  There was someone standing at the counter. Luckily it was only Mrs. Bea who turned with a wink then went back to whatever she was placing on a tray.

  * * *

  William opened his bedroom door, winded. From exertion, laughter, or lust, he couldn’t tell which—probably all.

  Shutting the door with his bare foot, he hustled Agatha across the room with both arms clenched about her waist.

  In a leap he launched them both upon the bed.

  “Finally where you belong, Mrs. English. I hope you approve.”

  He rolled from on top of her, keeping her hand and bringing it to his lips.

  “Oh, I do.” She turned on her side, touched his chest and traced the shape of a heart just under his throat.

  “Is my bed good enough to meet Mrs. Bea’s requirements?”

  “I think so.” She patted the mattress with the palm of her hand. We will need to try it out in order to be sure.”

  He caught her face in his hands and at the same time rolled on top of her.

  His fingers trembled imperceptibly when he gathered her camisole in his hands then eased it over her head and arms.

  When she lifted her hips and allowed him the right to slide off her drawers, he was like a beast ready to roar in triumph. She might have removed them herself, but because she hadn’t, it made him feel like he was well and truly claiming his mate.

  The beast wanted to take her quickly, with wild intensity, but now that she was naked beneath him, he wanted to savor the moment.

  He sat up, shucked out of his pants then lay on top of her again.

  Touching his lips to her chest, he felt her heartbeat under his mouth. He trailed kisses down her ribs, over her belly. He felt a quiver thrum under her skin. Felt his own heart tremble.

  Here was where his children would begin life. Perhaps one would begin tonight. The power of what they were about to do stole his breath. If it did happen, he would rejoice at the blessing.

  No matter what came later, he would love, he would live.

  “I do love you,” he whispered the words up her body.

  “I love you, William.”

  He nudged her thighs apart with his knee. She whispered his name when he pressed inside her, claimed her with tenderness—with his heart bursting.

  She arched her neck, her back, cried out. He plunged deeply, this time letting the wildness, the primal beast inside of him lead the way.

  When the world became solid, when his body cooled, he went up on a
n elbow to peer down at her face.

  He’s always thought her pretty, but now? Innocent, seductive loveliness—she touched his soul with her beauty.

  Her fast, heavy breathing slowed to a bare rise of her chest. He wondered if she might have drifted into a pleasure doze.

  He took the moment to appreciate the way her lashes curled at the tips, the way her fair skin had become dotted with freckles. The way her pink mouth tipped up at both corners.

  This woman was his to cherish and protect, but discreetly, very discreetly.

  “I never expected you, Agatha. Not even in my dreams.” He traced the curve of her eyebrow with his finger, kissed her mouth lightly.

  “No? I dreamed of you all the time.”

  Ah, not asleep, then.

  “I hope I lived up to your dreams, and to Mrs. Bea’s expectations.”

  “It’s clear that she didn’t tell me everything.”

  She caught his hair, drew his mouth down for a kiss.

  “Oh, what did she miss?”

  “The part about my heart swelling with love so strong I thought it might burst open.”

  “Ah, well that’s because only I can show you that. And I will, every day for the rest of our lives.”

  In fact, he decided, drawing his hand up the length of her thigh, he was going to show her again—right now.

  * * *

  The next morning Agatha went to the ridge, but not to run. Not even to watch the horses frolicking below.

  With her skirt spread out like a blanket on the ground, she gazed at the sweet face of Clara Rose Murphy.

  “You sure have changed, little miss.” She tickled Clara’s rosebud-pink cheek.

  “So have you,” Ivy said, standing nearby and watching the horses run. “I was so worried when you left home. Travis had to tie me to the bed to keep me from fetching you home.”

  “That must have been interesting.”

  “Now that you’re a married woman, I guess I can tell you it was.”

  Ivy sat beside her, leaned down and nuzzled her baby’s hair.

  Someday, with luck and God’s blessing, Agatha would do that to her own child. After last night, that day might not be too far off.

  “Even though I was worried, I’d have been wrong to wrangle you back. You don’t look much like the Agatha who left to go adventuring.”

  “Looking for life more than adventuring. Truly, that old Agatha seems like someone else.”

  “I do admire you—” Clara began to fuss and shove her hand into her mouth. “Reckon she’s hungry.”

  Ivy freed her blouse from her riding pants and set the baby to her breast.

  Her sister liked to dress with the least restriction possible to her person. In this they were different. Agatha liked feeling pretty in frills and bouncy ruffles. If it came at the price of a pinching corset, she didn’t mind.

  “Like I started to say, I admire you, sister. You’ve had to scrap and fight for your freedom. That old Brunne had you under her boot heel.” Ivy shook her head, her lips thinned to a grim line. “I don’t mind saying, I’m glad she’s dead.”

  And dead she would stay to Ivy. The very last thing Agatha wanted was for Ivy to encounter the woman who’d tried to kill her.

  “You were the one. If it weren’t for you—I hate to think—”

  All of a sudden she was overwhelmed, horrified at what her life would be like now if Ivy had decided not to come home and take over the Lucky Clover.

  William would still be a dream. A dream she would only recall during moments of lucidity, when the drug had worn off.

  Ivy touched her cheek, smiled. “Where you are now is all of your own doing. You look as happy as a lark in a clear blue sky.”

  “Guess I am. And more than grateful you turned William down.”

  “I had to, I reckon, since I was flat-out in love with Travis. I’m bustin’ with happiness for the both of you.” Ivy set Clara to her other breast. “Bill’s a lucky man.”

  “He will be tonight, after the party’s over.” It was a wonderful thing to be able to say that to her sister and not even blush.

  “Reckon he’ll need some luck after spending the day keeping peace at the gambling tournament.” Clara’s breathing turned to contented coos. Ivy removed her from the breast and set her over her shoulder for burping. “Wouldn’t mind giving my luck a try.”

  No! That was the last place her sister should go.

  “It’s a wicked place, Ivy. You ought to stay clear of it. Besides, William will forbid you to set foot in there.”

  “He still thinks he’s the boss of everything?”

  “Not everything.” She took the baby while Ivy put her clothes back in order. “But he is in charge of keeping peace around here. It will make things easier on him if you don’t go to Pete’s Palace.”

  It would make it easier on him if Agatha didn’t go, either, but of course, she had to.

  Tonight, she would use the distraction of the party to sneak away then use the distraction of the gambling tournament to face her tormentor.

  She would be gone and back so quickly that William would never miss her.

  “I’ll stay home. Sure would have enjoyed the challenge of outwitting those gaming men, though.”

  * * *

  Agatha stood in the foyer between her mother-in-law and her husband, greeting guests as they came in the front door.

  Perhaps being bolstered between the two of them made her not as nervous as she might have been.

  Even so, shaking the hands of the first five guests to arrive made her feel sick to her stomach. Had William and Victoria not been there she might have run back upstairs.

  It didn’t matter that she wore the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. She still wondered what they thought of her. In their eyes did the blue ruffle fluttering on the bodice make her look too daring—too shy? Did the sweet bustle on the back of the dress make her look fashionable or overdone?

  Did her smile look welcoming or like she wanted them to turn around and go home? Which she wouldn’t mind horribly if they did.

  Things changed a bit by the time the tenth guest arrived. The woman told her she looked lovely and seemed sincere in the compliment. Agatha began to feel comfortable with the fluff of the ruffle on her chest, the sway of the bustle.

  Somehow, after half an hour of welcoming guests, she no longer hoped they would leave.

  When the time came to go into the parlor and mingle with them, she held to William’s sleeve without her hands sweating.

  She remembered names. Which gentleman was married to which lady. Who lived in Cheyenne and who had come from places even farther away to celebrate her marriage.

  After an hour, William kissed her on the cheek then walked away to speak with a group of men in the corner. Every minute or so he glanced at her, no doubt checking to see how she was holding up.

  To her complete surprise, she was holding up fine. She laughed with a Miss Brown and a Mrs. Glenbye. A nervous laugh at first, she had to admit, but when Mrs. French, an old woman with lines on her face etched by a lifetime of laughter, told her a joke meant only for married ladies and widows, Agatha’s laugh was genuine.

  By the time William detached from the men and returned to her she felt warm and not jittery.

  “You look like the perfect hostess. How are you feeling?”

  “It’s your mother who is the hostess, I’m just speaking with people.”

  He hadn’t come to her empty-handed. She was glad when he pressed a glass of something pink and bubbly in her fingers.

  “Are you feeling all right? Would you like some time alone? Mother would understand.”

  Time alone was exactly what she needed, but not for the reason he thought—and she didn’t need it yet.

 
; “It’s the strangest thing.” She glanced around the room then back into his eyes.

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “What is the strangest thing?”

  “It’s just that half of the people in this room no longer feel like strangers, they feel like friends. Did you know that the Berdmans traveled three days to get here?”

  “They’ve been friends of my mother’s since before I was born. Looks like they are friends of yours, too.”

  “Yes they are—and Mrs. French.”

  William laughed quietly. “Did she tell you the joke about—” he whispered in her ear, repeating it word for word.

  “You know it well.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard it from my mother. Any married lady that Mrs. French counts as a friend will hear it at every gathering. Look, she’s sent Dove and Lark off to fetch punch. She’s telling the joke to Mrs. Norman.”

  “It’s a relief to know she counts me as a friend. I wonder if, maybe, I might make it as a politician’s wife after all.”

  “There’s every indication. But will it make you happy?”

  “I could not be any happier, no matter if you become governor or decide to go back to the ranch and become a cowhand.

  “Do you mind if I take a few moments alone after dinner? Just to refresh before the dancing?”

  “I’ll help you refresh,” he suggested with a lopsided grin.

  “You’ll leave me boneless, rather.”

  The other side of his grin lit up. A part of her wanted to run upstairs with him now, push him down on the bed and leap upon him, see if Mrs. French’s joke would work in real life.

  Before she could wonder further about it, Mr. and Mrs. Watkins walked up, going on about what a lovely couple they made and how much in love they looked.

  It was an odd thing when an event she dreaded was about to become a cherished memory.

  * * *

  A crowd of gamblers, mostly men but a few women among them, gathered on the front porch of Pete’s Palace. A dozen more escaped the heat by standing about on the boardwalk.

  Nodding and smiling in order to give the appearance of being one of them, Agatha wove her way down the boardwalk toward the rear of the saloon.