Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  Her delicate brow creased. “What caused it?”

  “No one knew. They called in a physician. He examined me. He had no answers. They sent word to my father. He arrived quite pale. It seemed Christopher had fallen from a tree and broken his arm.” He held her gaze. “During the same hour that I was to write an essay.”

  Her eyes widened. “Incredible.”

  “Sometimes we weren’t certain if our thoughts were our own or each other’s.”

  “Do you look alike?”

  “Exactly.” He rubbed his scar. “Except for this.”

  “I still think that was exceptionally cruel of your father. It must have been hard growing up knowing your brother would gain all.”

  “There was only one moment when I regretted that I was not born first, and it has lasted forever.”

  “When was that?” she asked quietly.

  He looked toward the stars, his throat still tightening after all these years. “The moment Christopher took as his wife the woman I loved.”

  Her small hand covered his larger one with a gentleness that he had not known for a good many years. “I am so sorry,” she said softly.

  He watched a star arc through the sky. “My father arranged the marriage so I never felt that Christopher had betrayed me. He was given no choice, just as I had no say in the matter. But, happily for them, he loved Clarisse, and she him.”

  “What an incredibly lucky woman to have possessed the love of two men.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers, brought her hand to his lips, and held her gaze. “She fell ill and died shortly before I left England.”

  Regret swept over her features. “I remember the grief in your eyes when you told us at dinner. David’s request was incredibly cruel.”

  “He did not know that I loved her or that I held her as she died with my brother’s name upon her lips.”

  “Why did your brother not hold her?”

  “He could not bear to see her die, so I stood in his stead, allowing her to think I was him.”

  Tears welled within Ashton’s eyes as she cradled his cheek. “You have known too much sorrow, Mr. Montgomery. I’m incredibly sorry for all you have suffered.”

  He laid his hand over hers, turned his head slightly, and pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm. “Will you honor me by becoming my bride?”

  Gasping, she jerked free of his hold. “Did your activities this afternoon knock your common sense loose?”

  No, it had been her triumphant smile after she’d captured five rings on the end of her lance. How could he explain so she would accept his offer? Suddenly it seemed imperative that she agree. “Before Clarisse died, she spoke of wishes. I could grant her but one. I would have sold my soul to the devil to have possessed the power to grant them all. David said you also have a wish—to be a bride.”

  “But the ceremony would be real. You would be bound to me by a document and vows.”

  “Ashton, I have no one in my life—no one. I loved once, deeply. I do not expect to love again. Taking you as my bride will deny me nothing, but perhaps it will give you everything you have dreamed of.”

  Tears rolled along her cheeks and glistened in the moonlight. “Everything, Mr. Montgomery. And more.”

  Chapter 5

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Ashton gingerly touched the lovely dress spread across the foot of the bed. David was so sure of his plan’s success that he had brought her mother’s wedding dress with him.

  Had he never found her in the dress, she might not be waiting for the arrival of evening and her wedding to Kit. Dear Kit, who had been a permanent fixture in her dreams since she’d first met him.

  Why wasn’t she filled with joy? Because David, with his good intentions, had misinterpreted the words she’d spoken in the attic. She wanted to be more than a bride. She wanted to be deeply loved.

  She knew that in a few minutes she would have to remove the plain dress she now wore and slip into the dress decorated with lace and tiny pearls. David would be incredibly disappointed if she didn’t don her mother’s gown after he’d gone to the trouble to ensure it was here, yet how could she wear it? Her mother had worn it to please the man who loved her. Although Ashton desperately wanted to please Kit this evening, she knew he didn’t love her.

  Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes. It was such a simple thing that David expected of her, yet somehow wearing her mother’s dress felt incredibly wrong, as if by doing so she would taint its purpose.

  “Having second thoughts?” a deep voice rumbled into the room.

  Ashton’s eyes flew open as she pressed her hand to her throat and jerked her head around. Kit sat on the window ledge studying her. She jumped to her feet and stepped to the end of the bed, trying to hide the dress. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the bridegroom to see the bride before the wedding?” she asked.

  He angled his head slightly. “I thought it was bad luck to see her in her gown before the wedding.” Shifting slightly, he brought his legs inside and slowly came to his feet. “Besides, you don’t truly expect an attentive groom to go the entire day without visiting his bride.”

  She wrung her hands together. “I’m not sure what I expect. I can’t believe this is actually happening, that I’m going to get married.”

  With a pantherlike grace, he crossed the short expanse separating them. As light as a shadow, he grazed his knuckles across her cheek, his gaze holding hers. “Believe it, sweetling.”

  The endearment thrilled her as she pressed it close to her heart like a flower flattened between the pages of a book so it would forever be remembered. She had so often thought of him whispering romantic things in her ear. In her journal, she’d childishly written a list of the names he would call her, and she realized that she could no longer envision any endearment passing between his lips except for the one he’d just spoken, one she hadn’t written but now knew was right for him. “I wanted to have this day so badly,” she confessed.

  Understanding softened his eyes and lifted a corner of his mouth. “I know, and now you shall.”

  “I wish Madeline were here. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I have control of all the details,” he assured her with a confident grin. “All you have to do is get dressed.”

  He touched the ribbon holding her hair in place. She felt two slight tugs, and then he was wrapping the lavender silk around his finger. It seemed such an intimate gesture, as unsettling as if he’d loosened her buttons and removed her dress. “Don’t bind your hair,” he ordered gently.

  Unable to locate her voice, she could do little more than nod. He looked past her to the bed. “Is that the dress you plan to wear?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, it was my mother’s. I’m not sure I should wear it, though.”

  His gaze warmed with appreciation. “You should. It’s perfect.” He reached inside his jacket and removed an oblong box, wrapped in white paper and secured with a white ribbon and bow. He extended it toward her. “For you.”

  Her gaze darted between the gift and the blue of his eyes. “What is it?”

  “A wedding gift.” He moved it closer to her. “Take it.”

  With trembling fingers, she took the package and sat on the bed, turning the gift over. “I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Your presence at my side this evening will be gift enough.”

  His words, spoken with such sincerity, were more precious than the present he’d given her. She peered up at him. “Can I open it now?”

  She saw infectious delight dancing in his eyes. “Of course.”

  Slowly she untied the ribbon, then removed it and the wrap. Carefully she opened the box, her breath catching as she gazed at a strand of pearls. At their center hung a miniature cameo. “It’s beautiful,” she said on a sigh. She glanced up at him. “I can’t accept this.”

  He knelt before her and took the jewelry from the box. “Certainly you can.” He slipped each end of the necklace ar
ound her neck, holding her gaze as he fastened it behind her. “It’s a gift from the man who is to become your husband in less than two hours.”

  Her eyes stung as she brought her fingers to her lips and rasped, “It’s too much.”

  With his thumb, he captured the solitary tear that rolled along her cheek. “It’s only the beginning. I have so much more planned. Enjoy each moment, smile as you did yesterday, and I shall be the happiest man in all of Fortune.” He cradled her cheek and slowly leaned toward her. His eyes darkened, his lips parted—

  A harsh knock on the door had them both jumping back, Kit shooting to his feet, Ashton pressing her hand above her pounding heart.

  “Ashton? It’s Jessye. Thought you might need some help getting ready.”

  “Yes, thank you, just a minute,” Ashton called out.

  Suddenly at her side, Kit bussed a quick kiss across her cheek and whispered, “Until this evening. Remember, hair loose.”

  He unfolded his body, walked rapidly across the room, and climbed out the window. He looked over his shoulder and blew her a kiss before disappearing. All her doubts dissipated like fog warmed by the sun.

  She touched the cameo. For tonight, she would be a cherished bride.

  Ashton studied her reflection in the cheval glass. Her mother’s dress fit her perfectly. The straight tall collar fit snugly around her neck. The string of pearls circled it and the cameo lay nestled against the lace just below her throat. Something old. Something new.

  “Kit’s gonna be right pleased when he sees you,” Jessye said.

  Ashton felt her stomach quiver at the mention of her soon-to-be husband. She met Jessye’s gaze in the mirror. “Do you really think so?”

  “Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think so.”

  Ashton smiled at the no-nonsense tone of Jessye’s voice. She’d forgotten how forthright Jessye was, so unlike most of the women she’d ever met. “I do want to please him.”

  “Course you do,” Jessye said as she straightened the veil held in place with a circle of flowers. “Getting to the church on time would be a good way to begin. Come on, let’s go.”

  Ashton took a deep breath to calm her jitters and again looked at herself in the mirror. If her smile remained that large, her jaws would ache by the end of the evening. But she couldn’t stop smiling. She was going to get married, be a bride…and only she and David knew she was marrying the one man she’d ever dreamed of having as a husband.

  Jessye opened the door. “I’ll see you at the church.”

  “Jessye?”

  Jessye stopped and turned toward her.

  Ashton took another shuddering breath, grateful she was wearing gloves to absorb the moisture coating her hands. “Jessye, I know it’s the last minute, but would you stand at the front of the church with me?”

  Smiling brightly, Jessye walked back into the room and gave Ashton a hug. “Be happy to. You just hurry along, now. These Englishmen don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  After Jessye left the room, Ashton took one last glance in the mirror and smiled at her reflection, knowing that for this night, at least, her happiness would overshadow her illness.

  She stepped into the hallway, her face warming as David gazed at her with appreciation reflected in the brown depths of his eyes.

  “You look beautiful, Ashton,” he said as he took her hand, lifted her arm, and slowly twirled her around.

  Anticipation shimmied through her, and amazingly she wasn’t the least bit tired. She was beginning to understand why Mrs. Gurney had recommended marriage. David extended a bouquet of delicate white roses and late-blooming bluebonnets bound together by what she recognized as her silk lavender hair ribbon. Kit had taken it with him earlier. “Are these from Kit?” she asked, almost certain she knew the answer.

  “Yes,” David admitted. “He seems to have thought of almost everything.”

  Something borrowed, something blue.

  She was almost giddy with delight at Kit’s thoughtfulness. David crooked his elbow. “Shall we go?”

  She entwined her arm around his. She brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled their sweet fragrance. “Is he here?”

  David escorted her down the stairs. “No, he’s waiting at the church.”

  They walked outside, where a buggy and two dappled gray horses waited.

  “The church isn’t that far away, but Kit didn’t want you to get dusty walking along the street,” David explained as he helped her clamber into the buggy.

  The vehicle rocked as he climbed in beside her. He lifted the reins, and she placed her hand over his. He stilled and looked at her.

  “Thank you, David.”

  Love filled his eyes as he touched her cheek. “I wish it could be more, Ashton.”

  She knew that he wanted her to be well, but no one could grant her that wish. “It’s enough, David, that I have tonight.”

  He nodded before slapping the reins over the horses’ rumps and setting the carriage into motion. Ashton settled back against the seat as twilight eased around her. She saw the first star appear in the sky and smiled softly, knowing any wish she could have made would pale in comparison to the dream unfolding this evening.

  “I cannot believe that you agreed to this idiotic scheme,” Harry whispered harshly as he stood beside Kit at the front of the church.

  “I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter,” Kit snapped, waiting for his bride to arrive and begin her walk down the aisle. He did not need to hear his own misgivings echoed aloud.

  Word of his impending marriage had seeped into every ear within hearing distance and the strength of the pews was being tested as a crowd of people gathered to gain sight of the woman who had supposedly captured their marshal’s heart with a solitary smile.

  “Have you given any thought to the fact that you might meet someone you wish to marry before you become a widower?” Harry asked. “What then? Do you ask the woman to wait, when physicians have predicted death’s arrival in error before? Do you honor vows that demand you forsake all others—”

  Kit sliced his gaze to his friend. “What I do demand is that you shut up!”

  “—Forsake all others until death do you part,” Harry continued. “You cannot be celibate for six weeks, much less six months. Will you make a mockery of these vows?”

  “I will make a mockery of no vows I take this day. I am giving one woman a chance to live her dream. Would you do no less for Jessye?”

  “But I love Jessye. You do not love Ashton. Therein lies the difference, my friend. You are simply sending yourself more deeply into the bowels of hell.”

  “Or perhaps I am seeking absolution. All I know is that no harm shall come of this day or this arrangement because no woman in this world gives a bloody damn what I do. There shall never be a woman other than Clarisse whom I shall love.”

  The preacher cleared his throat.

  Kit gave Harry a level glare. “Now, either walk away from my side, or cease your condemnation and remain the stalwart friend that I need at this moment.”

  Harry gave a brusque nod. “I pray to God that you never come to rue this day.”

  The organist began to play, sending music to the far corners of the rafters. Kit took a deep breath before turning his attention to the doorway that led into the church.

  Bloody damned hell! His mouth went dry, and his breath backed up into his lungs until he thought he might never again draw air into his body.

  His bride strolled down the aisle toward him, her arm intertwined with her brother’s, and God help him, Kit thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Her white gown whispered across the wooden floor. A gossamer veil was draped over her head and covered her face, but it could not hide the luminescent glow of happiness in her eyes.

  Perhaps he was stepping more deeply into hell, but for the first time, he did not object to the journey. She had worn her hair loose as he’d requested. It flowed past her shoulders to her tiny waist, and he experienced a moment of
misgiving. The man waiting for her before the altar should be one willing to brush her hair each night before she slept.

  Her dream was to be a bride, but at what point did a bride become a wife?

  At the moment of consummation, he supposed. For them, that moment would never arrive. Why was he always so quick to make a pact with the devil? How many times could he bargain away his soul?

  At least this time, he would not give his heart.

  Ashton stopped before him, and he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. He smiled as though he was a besotted fool who thought himself the luckiest man on earth. Her eyes warmed with gratitude, and all the doubts plaguing him melted away.

  “Who gives this woman to this man?” the reverend asked.

  “I do,” David said.

  With a fluid movement, Kit took Ashton from her brother and nestled her against his side. He lowered his head and whispered, “Speak the vows as though you mean them.”

  Ashton watched her future husband straighten and wanted to take him away to a corner and explain why David had chosen him. She wanted to tell him what her journal revealed of her feelings for this man standing beside her now on the verge of making false vows to grant her one solitary day of happiness.

  She adored him. It was as simple and as complex as that. From the moment she had first heard tales of the Englishman David had met on his journey abroad, she had been fascinated with him. Then she had met him at her brother’s party, listened as he spoke with a deep voice accentuated with grandeur, and watched his every courtly gesture, mesmerized. She had desperately wanted to dance with him, but the subject of Clarisse had come up during the conversation at dinner. After that, Kit had been interested only in her brother’s expensive wine, not in his companions.

  Ah, yes, she would speak the vows as though she meant them, because she did. She prayed that her heart would not shatter when he repeated vows that were of little consequence to him or his heart.

  Kit’s gaze did not stray from hers as the minister spoke on the merits of love and the responsibilities of marriage. She had yearned to hear words such as these directed her way, surrounding her and the man who would make a life with her. She had not expected the words to echo within the church, a hollow sound that reverberated within her empty heart.