Lucky Bride

by Ana Seymour

  The Dickersons had arrived at the party late. Parker had watched as Molly had waited for Jeremy’s reaction to her new appearance, and he’d noted the quickly hidden disappointment in her expression when her neighbor had greeted her with only a cool “You look lovely tonight, Molly. It’s nice to see you in a dress for a change.”

  She deserved much more in a man than Jeremy Dickerson, that was for sure. She deserved… Passion was the word that leapt to his mind, though Parker found the image made him somewhat uncomfortable.

  The waltz ended and almost immediately the fiddlers started in on another. Molly was pulling away from her partner with a laughing shake of her head, her hand against her slender throat. Parker darted around a twirling couple to reach her side. “I believe this was the dance you promised me,” he said, whisking her into his arms with a nod of apology to her partner.

  He matched his steps with hers, but she protested, “I’m winded. I don’t think I can dance another step.”

  “I could see that,” he said, and whirled her into the dining room to a precision stop right next to the punch bowl. “You need a drink.”

  He served her a cup and watched as she gulped it down in big, thirsty swallows. “So that was a rescue?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re a useful person to have around, Parker Prescott.”

  “I try to be.” He smiled at her and plucked the punch cup from her fingers. “Do you want more?”

  She shook her head. The dining room was empty. Only a few morsels of food remained scattered around the trays on the big plank table. “It looks like we’re out of luck if you’re hungry,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  At the far end of the dining room an archway led into a small music room with a spinet. Parker nodded in that direction. “Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

  “Anywhere but the dance floor.”

  He took her elbow and led her around the messy table. “So, you’ve enjoyed your evening after all?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. And I may have you to thank for it. Once I stopped worrying about what other people thought of my dress, I was able to relax.”

  “And waltz.”

  She smiled. “It wasn’t so hard after all.”

  His arm moved from her elbow to her waist. “I was hoping to get another dance with you myself.”

  She gave a happy laugh. “It’s not my fault if you can’t speak up fast enough, Mr. Prescott. All you had to do was ask.”

  He pulled her to a stop, then pointed above her head. “I’m asking,” he said, his voice suddenly thick.

  She looked up to catch a brief glimpse of a hanging ball of mistletoe, just before his lips came down on hers.

  Parker had meant the gesture to be friendly, lighthearted. But even before he had reached her mouth he knew that it was going to be more than that. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the quick rise and fall of her half-bare breasts above the clinging silver of her gown. His body swelled instantly. The arm around her waist involuntarily tightened, drawing her closer. He kissed her once, dry and hot, and then, when she breathed out a half-startled moan, he moistened his own lips and hers with his tongue and kissed her again. In earnest. Deep and satisfying, with the entire length of her body drawn up against his as waves of sensation swept downward and settled around his groin with spectacular urgency.

  He released her almost at once, stepping back as if he’d been burned, expecting a slap or, at the very least, the harsh lash of her tongue.

  She stood watching him for a long moment, her breathing altered. Then, to his astonishment, she said softly, “Thank you.” Her eyes skittered down to the floor.

  Parker took a long, calming breath. “Thank you?” he asked, unsure as to whether the sudden surge of lust had affected his hearing.

  She raised her gaze, looking more herself again—in control, but a little defensive. “It completes my fantasy, you see. I wanted to feel beautiful and desirable for at least one night. Maybe I even wanted to be kissed.”

  Parker ran his hand back through his hair and gave an off-balance laugh. “Well, jumpin’ Jehoshaphat, Molly. All you had to do was ask.”

  “Asking would have spoiled it.” She sounded wistful, as if the moment was already a memory to tuck away.

  He put his arm back around her waist. “I… ah…could try it again, just for the sake of the fantasy.”

  She stepped backward and shook her head. “No. Then I’d have to fire you.”

  “Tarnation, boss lady. Make up your mind.”

  She smiled apologetically. “You know as well as I do that we shouldn’t have done it. But I guess I was in the mood to break the rules tonight. And besides, it was… nice.”

  “It was damn nice.”

  “But not anything we can let happen again. Ever again,” she added sternly.

  Parker gave a shrug that was much more indifferent than he was feeling. Was the woman made of ice after all? Hadn’t she felt what had just happened between them? Maybe she didn’t have enough experience with kissing to realize that not every kiss turns into that kind of explosion. Or perhaps the explosion had been one-sided. It was hard to believe, but as she stood there lecturing him, cool as a schoolmarm, he wondered.

  “So if I kiss you again, I lose my job?”

  “You’d better believe it, cowboy.”

  “Hmm.” The decision took him about three seconds. He snatched her against him again. Using more finesse this time, he skillfully mated their lips and tongues until he was darn sure he hadn’t left her indifferent. Just before he felt his control about to snap once again, he released her, stepped back and held up his hands, waiting for her reaction.

  Her eyes were closed, her lips blurry, and he thought he could detect the slightest bit of a quiver.

  “There you are, Molly. It’s time for the midnight toast and we couldn’t find you.” Susannah’s voice hit both of them like a splash of water.

  Molly turned guiltily toward the door at the far end of the room where her sister’s graceful form was silhouetted in the dim light. “We were… having a glass of punch.”

  Her voice was shaky, but Parker recovered more quickly. “They’ve worn your sister out tonight, Susannah,” he said smoothly. “She’s the belle of the ball in her new finery. Of course, I haven’t noticed you lacking for partners.” With a hand that barely touched her lower back, Parker guided Molly smoothly across the dining room. “I’d hate to have to judge a competition between you two.”

  Susannah did not seem suspicious of her sister’s unsettled appearance. “I told you it would be fun, Molly. Admit it, now. You’ve had a good time.”

  Molly shot a sideways glance at Parker. It wasn’t friendly, but it didn’t look as if she was about to dig out her buffalo gun, either. “Yes, sis. I did have a good time. But I’m more tuckered than if I’d spent the day hog-tying cattle.”

  Susannah laughed and reached for her sister’s hand, pulling her through the door and onto the dance floor. “Well, you don’t look like you’ve spent the day hogtying cattle. Come on, let’s go break a few more hearts before we find Mary Beth and head home.”

  Parker stood in the recesses of the dining-room door for several more minutes watching the sisters move across the room, gathering men about them like a tumbleweed adding on dried twigs. It had been quite a night for Miss Molly. So much had happened, it was possible that the kisses under the mistletoe might not have been as staggering to her as they had been to him. But he had the feeling that things had changed between him and his boss lady. Whether or not either one of them was ready for it to happen.

  Everyone always slept late the day after Christmas at the Lucky Stars. But no one had bothered to tell Parker. The kitchen was cold and dark when he came up for breakfast. He lit an oil lamp and started a fire in the stove. The short night’s sleep had left him a little less confident than he had been last night about Molly’s reaction to his behavior. Everything looked different by the
dawning light of the new day. But it was too late to do anything about it now. If she had regrets, so be it. There was one thing he knew for certain—he hadn’t been the sole participant in those kisses.

  The tin pot was nearly full of yesterday’s coffee, and he put it on to heat up. He wasn’t especially hungry. A cold biscuit would do for now, then he’d go on out to see to the animals, who hadn’t danced into the wee morning hours and were undoubtedly expecting breakfast as usual.

  He didn’t admit that he would just as soon get out of the kitchen before Molly came down. He’d have to face her, of course, but he’d rather it would be when the entire family was around. He laughed out loud at his own cowardice. Buck up, Prescott. Since when have you been one to let a slip of a woman scare you? Even one with a buffalo rifle twice her size? He wouldn’t even wait for the coffee, he decided, clapping on his hat and turning toward the door.

  “What’s so funny?” Molly appeared at the foot of the kitchen stairs. Her transformation back to boss lady was complete. She had on her buckskins and her hair was pulled back into severe braids.

  Parker took off the hat and threw it on the table with a sigh of resignation. “Nothing,” he said bluntly. “I was just about to go out and get to work. Assuming I still have a job.”

  “Aren’t you going to have breakfast?”

  “Do I?” he insisted.

  “Have a job?”

  He nodded, waiting.

  “Is’pose.”

  “Now, there’s a ringing endorsement.”

  He was wrong. She wasn’t completely transformed. There was a little quiver around her mouth, a hint of vulnerability in her blue eyes. “What do you expect me to say, Parker? We can’t deny what happened last night, but I’d appreciate it if you would help me forget about it.”

  He grabbed the coffeepot with his shirttail, poured a cup and took a step toward her, offering it. “So you’re sure you want to forget about it.”

  She looked at his hand holding the cup as if it were a rattlesnake. “Of course I do. I acted… like a fool.”

  “There’s nothing foolish about kissing. People do it all the time.”

  “Like a hoyden, then. I… I kissed you back.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you did.” Parker restrained a grin.

  “Well, it won’t happen again.”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.”

  Parker took a step closer, reached for her hand and put the coffee cup in it, bending her fingers around the handle. His face was inches from hers. “But I still have a job,” he confirmed softly.

  “Yes.” Her voice changed pitch halfway through the word.

  “Good.”

  He turned on his heel, snatched up his hat once again and walked out of the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  It seemed as if winter had just been waiting for the Christmas festivities to end before arriving in full force. The day after Christmas was cold and blustery, and by midafternoon it had started to snow—not the big wet flakes of the earlier snowstorm that had frozen Parker’s ears, but tiny ice pellets of fierce, driving snow. Before the storm started, Parker and Smokey had ridden out to check on the cattle in the boxed canyon. The snow caught them as they neared Cougar Creek, which was now frozen except for a few places where water bubbled up from underneath the built-up ice.

  “We should head back,” Smokey yelled. “This looks like it could be a nasty one.”

  “We might as well just take a look now that we’re this far. It’ll relieve Molly’s mind to hear that her babies are still behaving.”

  Smokey laughed. “Shake a leg, then, son. Let’s take a quick peek and skedaddle on out of here.”

  Parker turned his horse away from the rough creek bank and headed toward the canyon, scanning the horizon for signs of the cattle, his expression becoming tighter. It seemed to him that he should be able to see the herd from this point. The snow cut down on their visibility, but before long they were close enough to see that the carefully rounded up herd had once again scattered. “They’regone!” he said unnecessarily.

  Smokey sat up in his stirrups, looking all around. “Dogies do like to roam.”

  “You think they went off by themselves?”

  “What else? Unless a cougar or something came by and spooked them.”

  “Or something,” Parker said in a low voice.

  “Well, there’s not much we can do about it today with this storm coming on. Bejeezus, Molly will be spitting nails.”

  Parker slapped a gloved hand against his thigh. Molly had as much as admitted that things needed to go smoothly if she was to be able to keep this place going. She needed every one of her cattle, and she needed them near enough to bring in next spring with a minimum of men.

  They’d turned back toward the house when Parker’s attention was caught by three animals grouped together a little upstream. Shouting over the wind, he pointed them out to Smokey.

  “They’re calves,” the cook called back. “But I don’t see any sign of the mamas.”

  “What shall we do?”

  Smokey reined in his horse and lifted his face to the snow. “Bring ‘em in, I guess. They’re like to die out here without any of the bigger animals for shelter.”

  Working as quickly as they could, they cornered the three strays and zigzagged with them back to the corrals. “I’ll put them in the barn with Moonlight,” Parker hollered. “You go on inside.”

  The three calves appeared more than willing to be led out of the howling wind. With no more than a slap on the rump, each went easily into the big stall, where Moonlight gave a halfhearted bleat of welcome. It was a small victory, but Parker felt pleased. This cattle business wasn’t so bad after all. Especially when the cattle were no bigger than he was. He grinned and saw that they had plenty of water and hay. Then he said, “Sleep tight, little dogies,” and started up to the house to see if Smokey had broken the bad news to Molly.

  The storm outside made supper seem cozier than usual, or perhaps it was a lingering Christmas spirit that hovered over the table. After Molly’s initial explosion at word of the missing cattle, she calmed down and let the good humor of the others take her mind off the subject. They ate the last of the Christmas goose and went over last night’s party in exaggerated detail.

  “Did you see how the Widow Fosseen wouldn’t let Harv Overstreet out of her sight all night long?” Susannah asked with a little giggle.

  “Well, good for her. Harv hasn’t had enough to keep him busy since Roberta passed away,” Molly said. Then she grinned. “And I noticed Max McClanahan seemed to make herself conspicuous whenever Smokey got anywhere near.”

  “Was Max there?” Mary Beth asked. “I didn’t even see her.”

  “You never were around,” Susannah observed. “Where were you off to most of the evening?”

  Molly gave her youngest sister a sharp look, but Mary Beth answered calmly. “Just because I don’t have to dance twice with every man at the party under the age of ninety doesn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying myself. I had a nice long talk with Frannie Copplemeyer, for one.”

  “How’s her hip?” Susannah asked.

  But Molly interrupted her question. “It’s hard to imagine anyone not knowing when Max is in the room, but she did leave early to go on over to nurse Cynthia Baxter’s mother-in-law. She’s got the croup, and at her age…”

  Parker listened to the accounts in silence. He didn’t know most of these people, but he was struck by the sense of community among them all. Back home, his mother spent hours each week working in the poorhouses and the homes for fallen girls, but then she would come home to her upper-class mansion and join her proper social stratum for the main part of her life. It had been one of the reasons Parker had left—the layering, the impersonality of it all.

  “And did you have a good time at your first ranch party, Parker?” Susannah was asking him.

  He looked quickly over at Molly, but she was studying the crystal pattern in the top
of the butter dish. Turning back to Susannah, he said blandly, “I had a wonderful time. Your neighbors appear to be very nice people. I especially liked the fact that everyone was invited. It doesn’t seem to matter here if you’re a cowhand or a… banker.”

  “It matters to the mamas,” Smokey contradicted. “They stand around the edge of the room like chicken hawks, and when one of their sweet young things dances one too many dances with a no-account wrangler, they swoop down and carry them off to safety, or to the nearest suitable prospect.”

  “So cowboys aren’t considered suitable prospects?”

  “It depends on the cowboy,” Susannah said with a bat of her long lashes.

  Molly stood. “We all should get to bed. If the storm stops, I want to ride out tomorrow and see where those critters have taken themselves off to.”

  Parker glanced over at the window where the storm was rattling away in fury. He got to his feet slowly. “I’ll say good night, then.”

  Molly followed the direction of his gaze. “I guess you’d better stay in here tonight, Parker.” When everyone looked at her in surprise, she added tartly, “I’m not an ogre, you know. It would be stupid for him to stay out there in this storm.”

  “I appreciate it,” Parker said simply. “If you’d get me a couple of blankets I can just roll up over by the fireplace…”

  “You can stay in Papa’s room. As long as we have a free bed, you might as well use it.” She looked around the room as if daring anyone to question her decision. No one said a word. “Well, let’s get going, then. I told you there’d be work to do tomorrow.”

  The next day the snow had been replaced by bitter cold. The inside of the big window in the master bedroom was covered with a thick layer of frost. Parker huddled under the covers. For a moment he wished that he was a boy again back in New York City with the maid coming to bring him a cup of hot chocolate and light the fire before he had to get up into the cold room.