by Starla Kaye
Whiskey scrambled off the bed wearing only white stockings, a lace-trimmed corset, and ruffled drawers. “Did you say circus? As in clowns and all?”
Brandy faced her with a challenging tilt to her chin. “Yes. I’ve been performing with a traveling circus for over a year now. And I love it. Father is positively furious, of course.”
Camelia hurried over to stand next to Whiskey and asked in awe, “What do you do there? Are you one of those clowns? That looks like such fun. I’ve only seen a circus once, when my family went back east to see my grandparents. But it was wonderful!”
Whiskey gaped at Camelia. “Good heavens, Camelia, take a breath.” Then she faced Brandy and pressed, “What do you do?” She was having a really hard time accepting this bizarre news. Her sister was so prim, so proper, and so goody-goody.
“I’m a high-wire performer.” Brandy looked proudly at her, her stubborn chin tipped up.
“Well damn!” Whiskey shook her head in amazement. “And our brothers think I’m the wild one.” She thought for a second and then asked, “Does Chase know?”
Brandy’s expression grew somber. “He does and he hates the idea. Even went so far as to tell me not to do it anymore. Can you believe that? Like he has any say at all in my life.”
Whiskey saw the hurt in Brandy’s eyes and would have prodded her sister more but Brandy glanced at the small clock next to Camelia’s bed. “Good heavens! If you don’t finish getting dressed, you won’t make it to the church on time.”
Again her stomach fluttered with nerves. “Maybe it won’t matter.”
“Arms, up,” Brandy ordered, taking charge. “Camelia, get Whiskey’s slippers.”
Praying she wasn’t about to make a serious fool of herself by showing up at the church to marry a man who didn’t bother to come, she raised her arms. This wasn’t the dress Morgan had requested be fitted for her. The dressmaker had made a special one for her after all. It was far more elegant than anything she’d ever dreamed of with yards of delicate faille and silk. But if he didn’t show up…
* * *
Standing in his room at the Great Western hotel, Morgan slipped a finger under his stiff collar and stared into the mirror above the dresser. He wore black checkered trousers topped with a long black sack coat, borrowed from Keno and altered to fit him at the last minute by a very excited dressmaker. He hadn’t ever dressed up this fancy before, not even for his first wedding. In truth, he wouldn’t have done this for anyone but his Angelina. Now he just needed to find the courage to walk out of this damn room.
A sharp rap on the door had him jerking and automatically reaching for the gun strapped down on his leg. He relaxed when Taos called out, “Are you about ready? I swear you’re taking longer to get dressed than a woman.”
He pulled the door open and stood stiffly as both of Whiskey’s brothers grinned. “Either of you laughs and I’ll put a bullet in you. I swear it.”
“You’re wearing your gun to your wedding?” Taos questioned in disbelief, staring at his holster and Colt .45.
“Yep.” He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he needed the security of it. Not the safety of it, but, oddly, just wearing it gave him comfort as he headed into this unnerving situation. Getting married again was frightening as hell.
The men shrugged and then motioned him out the door.
There hadn’t been a soul on the street or boardwalk when they left the hotel to walk down the road toward the church. The quietness was almost eerie, made him nervous. But the closer they got to the small building, the more voices they heard. It appeared to him that most of the population in the county was crammed inside, and whoever hadn’t been able to find a seat was standing around the sides of the rows of pews or outside on the porch. He might not have actually gone inside if Whiskey’s brothers hadn’t been right behind him.
It took every ounce of willpower he could summon up to walk rigidly up the aisle to take his place in front of Reverend Chester.
The reverend smiled calmly at him. “It’ll be all right, son.” He looked down at Morgan’s holster and shook his head. “Normally a man doesn’t wear a gun to his wedding.”
Would it be all right? Would Whiskey actually show up? He patted his gun and said flatly, “I’m not a normal man. And the gun stays on.”
He heard snickers from some of the crowd, mutterings of disapproval from the ladies. Then he watched Keno take a seat in the front row on the bride’s side of the church. The rest of her side held couples he’d seen around town and Whiskey’s many friends from all walks of life. Her dancer friends wore none of their usual gaudy make-up, wore simple dresses and were already crying. The groom’s side was packed with grinning men he’d run into one time or another at one of the saloons, and with the ranch hands who were surprisingly all cleaned up.
He shifted nervously and heard Chase and Taos, standing beside him, quietly chuckling. He turned to scowl at them when suddenly the piano player began picking out a church tune.
The gathered guests grew quiet.
Tyler sped in through the open doors and hurried to squeeze in between Morgan and Chase. Evidently he was no longer being held hostage. Morgan patted his son on the head and received a beaming smile in return. It made him wonder how he could have ever thought about leaving Tyler behind again, even with his brother. Thank God she hadn’t let him make yet another foolish decision.
Suddenly he knew she was close by. He looked back toward the doors and noted that every head in the building was turned to face the doorway. Whiskey stood in a ray of sunlight that danced over her head covered with auburn curls, which looked pretty enough, but he had grown to like her braid. Although he was still upset about Marino having cut off a good chunk of it, a chunk he kept tucked into his saddlebag.
Brandy and Camelia stepped beside her. All three women looked beautiful, but none more than his Angelina. She wore a fancy white gown that fit her like a glove from the waist up. Delicate lace at the top of the bodice drew his attention to her full breasts; making him frown because too many men in the room were getting a view they had no right to. Then he realized this wasn’t the dress he’d chosen. It was prettier, fancier, something like a princess would wear, he imagined. The dress really didn’t matter to him. He was far more interested in seeing it off her…everything off her.
She smiled at him and he went weak in the knees. This beautiful woman owned his heart and would soon be his wife. He didn’t deserve her, but he was going to have her. And he was getting damn impatient about all this hoopla.
“Get the hell up here, Angelina! Quit dragging your feet,” he called out only to hear gasps of shock from the ladies in the audience.
Beside him Taos and Chase chortled, as did a lot of men in the crowd.
Grinning, she shoved Camelia into the aisle and then Brandy. They stumbled a second and then hurried to their places with her nearly running them over.
Ham Bell had started to escort her down the aisle in place of her father, but he gave up halfway and let her hurry on by herself. When he managed to get to the front of the church, he said in amusement, “Reverend, I’m winded so I’m sitting down now. I’m giving her on behalf of her father to this man, who’d damn well better treat her right.” Then he sat down to a round of laughter.
Whiskey had almost jumped for joy when she’d spotted Morgan at the front of the church. She’d hoped, she’d prayed, but she really hadn’t been certain he would show up today. She’d barely even noticed the church full of people. The only person in the building who mattered was the man standing there looking so nervous and awkward in dress clothes. Well, Tyler mattered to, but differently. Morgan took her breath away even with beard stubble and shaggy hair, but all cleaned up… Oh my!
Someone cleared their throat and then Brandy nudged her in the side, whispering, “It’s your turn.”
“What?” She had trouble coming out of her daze. She’d been so focused on Morgan that she’d evidently missed the beginning of the ceremony.
Reve
rend Chester smiled indulgently at her and repeated her portion of the ceremony. Morgan waited patiently for her to say her “I do’s” and then reached for her hand. Her fingers were shaking as he took a sparkling diamond ring from Tyler to slide onto her ring finger.
She wanted to cry as he firmly said, “With this ring I thee wed.”
Even before the reverend could say “I now pronounce you man and wife” She threw herself at Morgan. To the roar of laughter all around, he held her close and then kissed her. Kissed her so long and intently that hoots and hollers rang out. But they didn’t separate until Chase stepped right up to them and said, “Your son is watching.”
Suddenly embarrassed she stepped back, but couldn’t keep from grinning.
Morgan took her hand into the crook of his arm and started to lead her back down the aisle. “How’s it feel to be Mrs. Morgan Rydell?”
“I don’t feel any different,” she said truthfully, smiling up at him as they passed through the crowd of well-wishers. But with each step she took she moved slower. Her heart raced. She felt sick. She couldn’t step outside. The nightmare had slipped back.
He stopped in the entry and turned her to face him. He tipped up her chin to look directly into her eyes. “It’ll be all right, Angelina. You’ve got to trust me on this. That was only a bad dream.”
Tears threatened to fall. She felt everyone staring at her in confusion.
Tyler walked up and took her hand. “Can I walk out with you?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course you can,” Morgan answered and gently pulled her toward the door with their son holding her other hand.
She held her breath and trusted in her new husband. Then, before she fully realized it, they were outside and all the way down the church steps. The guests had surrounded them. People laughed, congratulated them.
No shots rang out.
It had just been an awful dream after all.
* * *
Hours later they were home alone at the ranch house. Her brothers now lived in town. Chase and Tyler moved into Morgan’s room at the hotel temporarily. Even Brandy had stayed in town, spending a few days with Camelia. It felt strange to be alone with him, but something she definitely planned to enjoy. If she could get past this nervousness…
She stood in the middle of her bedroom, twisting her fingers in the sides of her dress, wondering what to do. Morgan had already removed his coat and his gun belt, which she still couldn’t believe he’d actually worn to their wedding.
Slowly he faced her. “I’ll be gentle with you, Angelina. I swear.”
She took a step toward him, heart racing. Heat inched over her face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. About what happens between a man and a woman.”
He inched closer until he stood directly in front of her. He reached up and toyed with her curls. “I’ve thought about this, too.” He touched the side of her face, ran his thumb over her mouth. “Thought about having you in my bed. Making love to you, every inch of you.”
Her eyes widened. She’d heard Maybelle talking about a man’s loving, how good it could be. Not that her friend had much experience with a man being good to her.
She tucked those thoughts of Maybelle away for another time. Nervously she teased, “Even my toes?”
His chest rose and fell in a deep breath and he played with her lips again. “Every last one of them.”
Now she shivered, anxious to get on with this new exciting experience. “You’d best get to taking my clothes off then.” She added quietly, “Assuming you’re going to do that.”
“Oh, darlin’, I sure am.” He turned her around until her back was to him. “Let’s get started.”
She waited uncertainly, stomach fluttering, her woman’s place hot and quivery.
“Well, damn!” he grumbled. “There must be a hundred buttons here. Small ones.” He blew out a breath of frustration. “How am I supposed to undo them with my big fingers?”
She giggled and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Since I don’t plan on wearing this fancy gown ever again, just rip the back open. Stop being so careful.”
He didn’t even hesitate, just grabbed hold of the top of the back of her gown and started pulling the two sides apart. Button after button shot all over the room. She didn’t care in the least.
After a few seconds he gave a sound of appreciation and shoved the dress off her shoulders. As she felt the coolness over her skin, he leaned closer and kissed her bare shoulder, then nuzzled her neck.
“Oh…oh my,” she gasped, wishing he would hurry up with the disrobing.
In less than a minute he had the dress pooling around her feet. Then he untied her petticoat and it fell down as well. That left only her camisole and drawers, which were no problem for him to remove either. Finally she stood before him in only her slippers.
“Is it time to make love to your toes?” he asked huskily, turning her to face him again.
She trembled from head to toe. “I’m thinking I’d rather have you focus a bit higher. We can save the toes for another time.”
He grinned so sinfully that he took her breath away. Before she knew what he was going to do, he reached down and cupped her private area. He pressed his hand close, his fingers touching her between her legs. She tingled down there, felt things she’d never experienced.
“What…what are you doing?” She leaned into his touch, ached for more.
“You like that?” He repeated what he’d done and then he found a special spot just inside her body. He pinched it lightly between his thumb and a finger.
“Ohhhhh.” She couldn’t stand still, struggled to breathe normally. “Is this decent?” Not that she really cared.
He moved a finger further between her legs, found her trembling lower lips and pushed the finger into her. “Anything is ‘decent’ between a man and his woman.”
She inched her legs apart and he continued to play with her, adding a second finger. “Oh, Morgan… I…”
He kept his hand in place, kept his fingers playing inside her. Then as she quivered all over, he lowered his head and put his hot mouth over one of her nipples.
It was the strangest thing she’d ever experienced and she loved it. He swirled his tongue around the nipple and it hardened. Then he lightly bit it, grinning cockily up at her.
“Hey!” she chastised, then decided she actually liked what he was doing. Besides those talented fingers were back to work. He wiggled them around, eased them nearly out, and drove them deep again.
“I’m dying here, Morgan. I swear you’re killing me.” Her knees had weakened and she didn’t think she could stand up much longer.
He lifted his head, although he kept his fingers buried deep. “I’m thinking you’re ready for us to take the next step.”
She glanced down at where his pants bulged out. “You’re going to put that rod inside me?” she asked warily. She was ready and yet she wasn’t. “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
His eyes were heated, his nostrils flaring as he pulled his fingers from her body and stepped away. She frowned in irritation, missing what he’d been doing to her. But he grinned and began shedding his clothes. She forgot all about anything but enjoying the impressive sight before her. And she remembered the day she’d seen him in his long johns. This was so much better.
He scooped her up and tossed her on the bed. As she wriggled into the middle of the mattress, he looked down at her hungrily. “I’m going to make you mine now.” He reached down to pull off her slippers. “I’m going to plow you good, darlin’.”
She pinched her nose and said, “That’s sort of disgusting, this ‘plowing’ matter.”
He crawled on top of the bed, pushing her legs apart, moving upward until his long, thick shaft touched at her hairy mound. “You’re right. I meant that I’m going to love you so good you’ll cry.”
“Maybe it’ll be you who does the crying,” she taunted, breathing hard, eager for this time that she’d been anticipating for too long.
His crooked smile made him look even more wicked. He took hold of her ankles and lifted her legs while she watched him uncertainly. “Keep them nice and high.”
He removed his hands and took hold of his shaft, stroked it a couple of times as she studied him curiously. Then he put it against her and she felt the firm head at her opening. He looked down at her. “Are you ready? It might hurt at first.”
“I’m hurting right now, waiting.” She frowned at him. “Just put it in me before I take hold of it myself and jam it inside.”
He blinked and then chuckled. “You are something else, my sweet sassy Angelina.”
Before she could sass him again, he eased his rod inside her. Then he took hold of her ankles once more and kept her legs wide apart and high. She felt more than a bit awkward. But when he looked serious and then drove deep inside her, she sucked in a breath, stilled, and widened her eyes in surprise.
“Damn,” she gritted out, wondering if she really could do this.
“Watch your mouth, Angelina,” he warned, holding still, staying buried deep. “I’d hate to have to give you a mouth soaping on our wedding night…or a spanking.”
She huffed. “Trying to split my body in two isn’t enough for you? You’d turn me over and redden my bottom?”
He must have decided she’d adjusted to him because he slowly started pumping in and out. She actually liked it, a lot. She moved with him, smiling.
Until he pushed deep and captured her gaze once more. “Apparently I haven’t split you in two. Apparently you’re all right now.” He shifted one hand to reach for a breast and then he carefully pinched the nipple. “Naughty girls get taken care of.”
Breathing hard, watching him move in and out of her body, she said teasingly, “This ‘naughty girl’ likes being ‘taken care of’ like this.” She grinned up at him. “You can take me this way any damn…darn…well, any time.”
Suddenly his face grew redder, his jaw tensed. He growled, “Ah hell.” He began driving into her harder, steadier. “I can’t go much longer.”
