Weddings Under a Western Sky: The Hand-Me-Down BrideThe Bride Wore BritchesSomething Borrowed, Something True

by Elizabeth Lane

  “Since when do you care about what’s stylish? You must’ve had to drag that suit outta mothballs.” Edina squinted again. “Patrón, are those spectacles on your face, too? Humph. Maybe if you took them off, you’d be able to see how funny you look.”

  At that, Everett’s expression changed. A tiny hint of vulnerability softened his mouth, making him appear…kissable.

  No! Nellie scolded herself. No. Not kissable!

  Everett clearly had gone out of his way to look nice for their first full day of being “engaged,” and his housekeeper and cook simply weren’t used to his newly dapper appearance. Or to his until-now undetected need to wear eyeglasses.

  Everett required a show of camaraderie right now, not more teasing, Nellie decided. She had to think of his needs—not her own selfish, sinful urgings to cup his face in her palms, touch her lips to his lips, inhale that leather-and-tobacco scent that clung to his skin and clothes, rub her body all over his—similar to the way she had in his wagon yesterday, when she’d brazenly cuddled up to him to “pretend” to be attracted to him—and make herself all breathless and needful and…and… Well, she didn’t know what else. But she felt quite certain, just then, that Everett did. She wanted very much for him to share that knowledge with her. She truly, breathlessly did. But first…

  “I think you look very handsome today,” Nellie told him loudly. To prove it, she reached for his hand. He took it.

  He tossed her another gratified smile, wholly ignorant of the thrills that chased through her body at his touch. His hand felt warm and strong and faintly callused, Nellie observed, and when Everett looked at her again, his eyes were… They were…

  They were partly hidden by those silly spectacles he had on! An offense like that should have been a crime of some sort.

  Displeased with that realization, Nellie did her best to rally. She could hardly begrudge Everett the ability to see clearly. Especially if—as likely was the case—he needed those eyeglasses to read the thick book he held in his opposite hand.

  Although on further reflection…Nellie could have sworn she’d glimpsed that very same book in Oscar’s hand yesterday.

  Truly. And she still felt resentful that those eyeglasses had stolen her view of Everett’s stirringly warm and intense hazel eyes. And to be one hundred percent honest, she didn’t entirely approve of the necktie that had so nettled Edina, either.

  But she did wholeheartedly approve of the man who wore it, Nellie reflected anew, and that was all that really mattered.

  Gently Everett rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, making another series of thrills rush through her. Bereft of the ability to speak under such heady circumstances, Nellie only gazed, undoubtedly wide-eyed, at her supposed “fiancé.”

  “Yep. They’re adorable together,” Edina judged brusquely.

  “Ah oui. They are enchanteur.” Marybelle pressed together her hands in a prayerful position. “Everything will be fine now.” She signaled Edina. “Come! Hurry up with those biscuits. We must begin sewing, or Nellie’s dress won’t be ready.”

  At that, Nellie started. She couldn’t allow Marybelle and Edina to slave away on a dress she would never wear. She had to stop them somehow, without rousing suspicion. She had to—

  Abruptly Nellie followed Everett’s glance toward her feet. She realized, to her dismay, what he must be looking at.

  Her boots. Her muddy, disreputable, boys’ boots.

  Reflexively she yanked them under her skirts again. She’d thought she’d been doing so well in her quest to appear

  ladylike and demure. Evidently making herself over into Everett’s dream woman would be more challenging than she’d expected—and more necessary than ever, as well. She’d noticed, at dinner last night, that Everett had flawless table manners and rarely made a misstep himself. She would simply have to do better than this!

  Distraught, Nellie opened her mouth to formulate an excuse for her hoydenish ways. But before she could even begin, Everett squeezed her hand. All her self-chastising thoughts fled.

  “Come with me.” Cheerfully he pulled Nellie to her feet. “We have a month’s worth of wedding fripperies to get to and only a week to do it in. So we’d better get started.”

  Chapter Five

  Striding toward the paddock at his easternmost pasture with Nellie by his side, Everett felt as giddy as a schoolboy. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized exactly how fraught with tension his arrival in the kitchen had felt to him. But now…

  Now he knew Nellie liked him. She truly did.

  His plan was working! He had successfully impersonated a sophisticated man. For her sake. And maybe, possibly, his own.

  When he’d arrived in the kitchen, Everett had half expected Nellie to laugh at him. He’d expected her to tease him the way Edina and Marybelle had. Or to reject him outright the way Miss O’Neill had. Instead Nellie had gazed at him with respect and admiration. She’d complimented him on the outfit it had taken him thirty-six vexatious, swearword-filled minutes to assemble. She’d taken his hand in hers and she’d smiled, and in that moment, Everett had known everything would be all right.

  He should have known it would be, he chided himself now as they continued alongside the grassy area where his tamest horses grazed. He’d heard Nellie’s opinion of him with his own ears.

  It’s just that he is so very sophisticated and witty and well-mannered, she’d been telling Marybelle and Edina in an awestruck tone when he’d come downstairs, and Everett saw no reliable reason not to believe her. Everyone knew that overheard statements were the most honest. Nellie’s remark had certainly seemed to be authentic. Especially since she’d followed up by admitting with typical forthrightness that Everett was not quite the sort of person she’d expected to find in the territory.

  He could tell, by now, that she was changing her mind.

  Silently congratulating himself on having carried off his plan so far—despite a few subtle missteps while navigating the multiple forks he’d uncharacteristically insisted Marybelle set for dinner last night—Everett smiled at Nellie. Her strides were steady and sure, purposeful enough to make her skirts swish, and he couldn’t help remembering the appealingly self-assured way she’d been perched at his kitchen table when he’d arrived, with her feet propped on the chair rungs and her posture alert.

  Nellie Trent was no coy, helpless damsel, he reckoned approvingly as he watched her tramp across the windswept landscape. She was energetic and interesting. She was fascinating and smart and alluring. She was…capable, it seemed, of enchanting all the creatures, big and small, on his ranch.

  Even now, he saw, his old dog trotted at her heels, tongue lolling in canine adoration. And when he’d come downstairs, his tabby mouser had been curled up beneath her chair. And every one of his vaqueros had quit work to tip his hat at her, grinning from ear to ear. Pedro, of course, had offered a courtly bow.

  Glancing again at her doggy companion, Everett grinned. He knew exactly how that helpless mutt felt—entranced and ensnared.

  “All right. That’s it!” Stopping abruptly, Nellie yanked her hand from his. “You’re staring at my feet again, aren’t you?” Accusingly she frowned at him. “You can just quit wondering, because I’ll admit it—I’m wearing boots.” She lifted her skirts a few inches to confirm it, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her stocking-clad legs in the process. Knitted cotton hosiery had never looked better. “Boys’ boots. I like them. They’re comfortable. They fit me. This pair is a little muddy at the moment, but that’s remedied easily enough. It doesn’t make me any less ladylike!” She jutted out her chin. A pause. “Well?”

  Confused by her beleaguered tone, Everett looked down. “Well…” He searched for a proper reply. “You have nice knees.”

  She yelped in surprise. Her skirts dropped. “Knees?”

  “Before, in the kitchen, I
could only wish I could catch a glimpse of your knees. But now…it’s kind of you to oblige.”

  “I wasn’t showing you my knees!” Nellie informed him with another lift of her chin. “I was showing you my boots. Since you were so all-encompassingly curious about them, and all.”

  “Nope. You were showing me your knees.” Everett grinned, recalling the moment with fond remembrance. He’d distinctly glimpsed her shapely calves, exposed knees…and the most elusive, most haunting hint of a curvy inner thigh adorned in dark stockings. But perhaps that last had been his overactive imagination. “Whatever your intentions were, I’ve seen boots before. I don’t need a refresher on what they look like.”

  “I see. So your eyes just naturally wandered upward?”

  “Naturally.” He took her hand again. “You have a surpassingly fine figure. I couldn’t help myself.” He remembered his newfound gentlemanly persona and added, “Of course, I’m very sorry if that offends your ladylike sensibilities.”

  Nellie didn’t even appear to be listening. Instead she was gazing at his shoulders in a preoccupied fashion. “My what?”

  “Your ladylike sensibilities.”

  She blinked. “Oh! Yes. Those.” Her mouth formed a delectable moue of distress. “You’re correct. Formally I am offended by that comment, of course. It was impertinent and overfamiliar.”

  “And yet,” Everett pointed out, “you’re smiling.”

  “Posh.” Nellie tried to suppress her grin. “I am not. It would not be at all ladylike if I were, say, thrilled to hear you remark favorably on my figure. That would be unthinkable.”

  “Your eyes are lovely, too. And I like your lips.”

  Appearing mesmerized, she touched them. “My lips?”

  Damnation. He was probably not supposed to mention them in polite company. It was just like him, a rough-and-tumble Western man, to forget that. “I’m sure,” Everett hedged, searching for a courteous alternative, “they have interesting things to say.”

  “Not without my running them, they don’t.” Now Nellie’s grin turned mischievous. “Exactly whom do you think is in charge of me? Hmm?” Playfully she nudged him. “Does your mouth do things all on its own, without any instructions from you?”

  Everett nodded. “It’s been trying to subvert my good intentions all day.” He lowered his gaze to her lips. “It wants me to kiss you. I keep having to remind it we’ve only just met.”

  “Strictly speaking, that’s true,” she agreed, shifting her gaze to his mouth…and holding it there with another preoccupied look on her face. “It doesn’t feel that way, though.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He took a step nearer, still holding her hand. He lifted it to his chest, letting Nellie feel his heart thumping along underneath his shirt and necktie and suit coat. He raised her hand higher. Keeping his gaze pinned on hers, Everett brought her hand to his mouth. Very softly, he kissed it. “There. Maybe that will keep my subversive impulses at bay.”

  Shakily Nellie exhaled. She nodded, her eyes enormous and blue and affectionate. “It ought to,” she pronounced. “After all, I am a demure lady. And you are a bespectacled gentleman. Between the two of us, we ought not want anything more.”

  “No,” Everett agreed. Even he wasn’t convinced. All of him yearned to pull Nellie still closer…to kiss her properly. “We are both far too sophisticated to give in to our urges.”

  “Yes,” Nellie breathed, moving a hairsbreadth closer. “We are. Far, far too sophisticated.” She paused. Then, “Only…”

  Instantly Everett felt doubly alert. “Only…?”

  “Only we might, purely for the sake of our ‘engagement,’ try out a very minor kiss,” Nellie proposed. Devilishly, she raised her eyebrows. “It wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

  “It would mean everything.”

  “Or it could mean everything.” A nod. “Yes, please.”

  Everett nearly groaned aloud. “You really are a lady. Only a lady would request a kiss in such a well-mannered fashion.”

  At that, Nellie perked up. “Well, then! Let’s do it!”

  “Not here.” Lacing his fingers in hers, Everett hauled her sideways. Within moments, the shadow of the barn enveloped them, providing a slice of blissful privacy. The springtime coolness mingled with the earthy scent of freshly plowed soil and the perfume of budding flowers. With his back to the sunshine and his front to everything that mattered to him just then, Everett leaned Nellie against the barn wall. Reverently he brought his hand to her face. He stroked her cheek. “Here,” he told her.

  Another preoccupied look. “Here what?”

  “Here is where I’m going to kiss you.”

  She nodded. “If you don’t hurry up, I won’t be at all convinced of your impassioned response to your fiancée.”

  “Are you always this bossy?” Grinning with delight at her puckish expression, Everett brought his other hand to her face. Gently he cradled her jaw in his hands. “This can’t be rushed.”

  “Can it be helped along?” Cooperatively Nellie looped her arms around his middle. She levered herself nearer, making her skirts collide riotously with his trouser legs. “How’s this?”

  Perfect. It was perfect. That was all Everett could think about. Nellie, in all her directness and enthusiasm, could not have been more wonderful, or more ideal for him. He trembled at feeling her body crowded against his, all soft and warm and giving. He wanted to give her everything…to let her know how much it meant to him that she was there, with him, just then.

  Instead his borrowed spectacles—a remnant of a former vaquero who’d forgotten them when he’d moved on—fogged up.

  He’d hoped they would make him appear scholarly. They only succeeded in making him appear…damp. Everett whipped them off.

  “It’s good,” he managed to say with a nod. “Very good.”

  “I like you without your eyeglasses on,” Nellie nattered on as he, having stowed his spectacles, returned his hands to her face. She seemed cheered by the notion that she was being useful. “You have magnificent eyes. And it’s only fair that I help with our kiss, since this was my idea in the first place.”

  “Your idea?” If she only knew the largely sleepless night he’d just spent thinking of her. “I won’t give you credit for this. Not in the slightest. Not after how much I’ve wanted—”

  “You must!” she insisted with a sincere expression—and a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s the only gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “Right now,” Everett said honestly, “I’m no gentleman.”

  Then he tilted Nellie’s head upward, lowered his mouth to hers…and gave in to every ungentlemanly impulse he’d ever had.

  Her mouth tasted like honey, her lips felt like heaven, and before Everett had so much as begun coaxing her to open herself to him, he knew he could never get enough of this—enough of her. Kissing Nellie was like leaping into the sunshine after a long, cold winter. It was like searching for something long lost, then finding it unexpectedly in a half forgotten pocket. It was like being split in half and then becoming whole again. It was…

  “Amazing,” Nellie said when he’d lifted his head again. She blinked at him, then traced her fingers over his cheek. “I guess the marriage bureau was right—you are ideally suited for me.”

  “I thought you said they are scurrilous fraudsters.”

  “Potentially,” she reminded him, still looking dreamy. “Potentially, they are scurrilous fraudsters preying on the hopes of naive men and women. That was my original hypothesis, at least. But the proof of that remains to be found—and the plain fact is, the evidence at hand just can’t be ignored.”

  Everett wanted to kiss her again. Again and again and again. Instead he made himself converse. “It can’t?”

  “No.” With her gaze lingering on his face, Nellie shook her head. She frowned
in thought. “It seems to me that we really are wonderful together. Surely all kisses aren’t like that.”

  Everett squared his shoulders. “Like what?”

  “Magical. You must have felt it.”

  He wanted to jump for joy. Somberly he said, “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, then! What if we’re meant to be together?”

  He was having trouble thinking clearly. “If you’re expecting philosophy from me, especially after that kiss—”

  “You did have the book for it close at hand. Remember?”

  Hellfire. The book he’d borrowed from Oscar. Evidently it had been too effective in convincing Nellie of his erudition. Now she expected deep thoughts and contemplation from him.

  On the verge of confessing that the book—in German, no less!—had only been for appearance’s sake, Everett stopped. His plan was working. He was impressing Nellie. He had to continue.

  “The only way to find out about our future is to live it,” he said firmly. “Starting with our ‘wedding.’ Come on.”

  Chapter Six

  When Everett clasped her hand and urged her toward the barn door, Nellie did not think she could move. She felt too languid, too preoccupied with Everett’s mighty shoulders and hard-muscled chest and big, nimble hands…too itchy for more things like kissing to concentrate on mundane matters like a mail-order marriage—particularly a sham mail-order marriage for a newspaper story for the nearly forgotten Weekly Leader. Her original reason for coming to town felt further away with every passing minute.

  But then Everett parted the barn doors. He let them roll aside with all the fanfare of a big-city play on opening night, and Nellie glimpsed what was inside, and she livened up quickly.

  “Oh, my word!” Awestruck, Nellie stepped inside. She wheeled around, taking in her surroundings. “Everett! This is— This is—”

  “It’s all my vaqueros’ doing,” he said, pausing to put on his dratted eye-obscuring spectacles again. Although they made him appear duly bookish and wise, Nellie preferred him without them. He gestured at the barn’s interior. “Do you approve?”