An Unescorted Lady

by Rita Hestand

  Her last two meals had been crackers and tea.

  "It's our wedding night. It will relax you," he encouraged with a smile.

  Oh God! She had to say something, and soon.

  She almost choked when he said it.

  "Lance," she tried to smile but fell short of it. I think you should know," she began. But another man in a nice fitting suit walked up to them and started talking to him. They must have known each other a while as they got into a heavy conversation about ranching problems. Suddenly he turned to her.

  "I'm sorry sweetheart. This is my bride Pricilla Collins, I mean Pricilla Rogers now." He introduced her.

  Again, her mouth opened, but the man was bowing and smiling, and the room was spinning again. She nodded, as they went on talking.

  She sipped her champagne, a little too quickly too. She didn't drink, ever! Her father had been such a lush with the bottle and she swore she'd never drink. But she always said she'd never marry either, and here she was, married to a complete stranger. She sipped some more champagne. It bubbled at her nose and tasted delightful. It gave her kind of a heady feeling and a false sense of confidence.

  When the man left Lance turned his attention back to her. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Well sweetheart, I hope you come to love Texas as much as Boston."

  Boston?

  Oh, was he ever in for a shock!

  "Lance, I really need to tell you something." She began.

  Her head was spinning, but when he suddenly kissed her again, she lost all thought. His lips moved over hers with such sweetness, she couldn't do anything but respond. Woe, he was a good kisser. She forgot she wasn't the right lady. She forgot everything except the exquisite taste of his lips on hers. She forgot he was her boss too!

  Heads turned and she blushed when he moved his head away from her.

  "Don't worry, they'll know we are just married by that dress. You must be tired from your trip."

  "Yes, I guess I am." She murmured, her eyes staring into his now. He had such warm brown eyes, and lips that knew how to please a woman, and a smile sexier than sin.

  For just an insane moment, she wished it was all true, she wished she could be his wife

  After paying the bill, he took her up to their room. It was a luxurious suite with every kind of amenity. The bedspread was a beautiful quilt done in a peachy color, and the lamp beside the table matched it. He closed and locked the door behind them, and she shook her head. Wasn't there something she needed to tell him? Her mind was a flutter. Oh God, she shouldn't have drunk the champagne. What was she going to tell him?

  "You're not used to Champagne, are you?"

  "No, I'm not. There was something I wanted to tell you, though. It was important."

  "Why don't you get ready for bed, you can tell me later."

  He turned her toward the powder room where a small valise with her things awaited her. She looked in the mirror. What was she going to tell him? It was something important, but she couldn't think straight. She was exhausted from her trip, and with a full tummy, she could use some sleep, and she certainly shouldn't have had that second glass of champagne, but she'd been so nervous, and she'd gulped it down instead of sipping it. He'd told her to sip it. She ignored his good advice and gulped it down, thinking she'd find the courage to tell him with a drink.

  In fact, the only thing she could think about was how good a kisser he was. She swooned and slumped against the door. Oh, how he could kiss. Her lips still felt the tingle of the sweet massage.

  Putting on her cotton gown, and twirling the ends of her long dark hair, she came out.

  The room seemed to spin.

  He saw her and picked her up in his arms and kissed her again. Her insides melted, her mind reeled at the pleasure of his kiss. This kiss was so much different, this one spoke of needs, of more to come.

  How could a woman think when a man kissed her like he did! She suddenly didn't want to think, she began to respond to his kiss, and he pulled his head up to stare into her light blue eyes, "I sure as hell didn't make a mistake marrying you."

  That was it! It was a mistake! Oh no!

  Why did she have to wake up, it was such a pleasant dream?

  She started to tell him again, but he kissed her again and this time she was almost eager for his kiss. This man was a master at it, and she was his pupil. He made her lose thought, made her giddy with strange and wonderful feelings, the kind of feelings she'd never experienced before.

  He sat her on the edge of the bed, then sat beside her, unbuttoning the tiny buttons at her back.

  "Don't be shy. I already want you so badly, but I promise not to be a beast."

  Mistake, mistake, mistake!

  She turned to him. And suddenly he was kissing her again, lost in another world, the words she needed were forgotten once more, drowning from the sensations he evoked in her, as the passion of the kiss swept her onward. Never in all her life had she met a man that could kiss like this. He tasted like what her Pa called a fine whiskey. He took her breath, melted her lips, and made her heart trip.

  For long lingering moments nothing mattered but the sweet taste of his mouth on hers. She met him now with an eagerness she couldn't control. When his tongue pried her lips apart, he danced with her tongue. She moaned softly against him.

  "Oh," she swooned. It was more than a swoon; it was a passionate response to his kiss.

  The fire in her Irish blood stirred her to a point she never knew she possessed. The more he kissed her, the more she wanted those kisses.

  How can I possibly stop something so wonderful!

  A fire began in her belly, spreading all through her, heating her. He turned her so he could start unbuttoning her dress again, his lips trailed down her neck, as he released the buttons in a frenzy. His lips found the sweetness of her skin, and he nibbled.

  It didn't take long for him to have the dress falling away from her shoulders and she shrugged, without thinking. She no longer used her brain, while her body was being primed for love.

  He pushed the material away and kissed her back.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "I never imagined such beauty."

  Even his words ignited her. Never had a man told her such beautiful things. Never had a man touched her in this way. And she didn't want to stop him any longer.

  He pushed the dress down and away from her, as he turned her to see the beautiful silk and satin camisole. His lips went further down her neck, onto her shoulder and then just above her breasts.

  "I need—" she started to tell him, as kisses stirred her onward.

  "I know what you need, darlin'." He whispered over the roundness of her shoulder.

  He chucked his jacket and shirt quickly, as he lay on the bed with her, half naked. She saw his beautiful chest and her hands itched to travel over him. She'd never been intimate with a man, and the things he was doing and teaching her went straight to her heart.

  He stood up and took all his clothes off. She stared at the magnificent body before her. From his wide shoulders that tapered down to a rock-hard stomach, to long legs and then.

  "Oh my," she gasped, staring at the shaft that stood at attention for her. She turned her head away but peaked through her fingers to stare. She'd never seen a man like this. Never!

  "I'm glad you're not shy now, Priscilla."

  That woke her out of this trance he wove around her and she raised up, scooted over to the other side and grabbed the sheet.

  "I'm afraid you've made a huge mistake, and so have I."

  "Honey, don't be shy, I'm not going to hurt you!" He'd chucked his boots, clear across the room. He put a knee on the bed.

  "Don't move," she threw up her hands to stay him as he came to her side of the bed, to stare at her. There he was in all his glory standing there naked as a jaybird. And for a moment all she could do was stare and blush. She'd never realized just how beautiful the male body was, until now!

  "I am not Priscilla!" she began. How she got those words out,
she'd never understand for she couldn’t take her eyes from him.

  The room quieted now. "Is this some kind of joke? You were on the right train, arriving at the right time. What is this? Are you suddenly sorry you married me?" he smiled obviously thinking she was joking.

  "Lord no!" The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. "I mean. I'm Trudy O'Toole, your cook!" she exclaimed, dropping her head in shame.

  "What!" his face contorted into frowns and puzzlement as his head jerked with the news. He shook his head, stared and his sexy grin disappeared faster than a Texas tornado.

  She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her camisole and cried now, "You married the wrong girl!"

  Suddenly he grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around him. "You're my cook!" he nearly shouted but she almost laughed at his struggle to be decent. She'd already seen it all, and what she saw made her swoon, but she wouldn't be telling him that.

  She nodded and he went back to his side of the bed, sat down on the edge and put his face in his hands.

  "I married my cook!" he said softly, then louder repeating it, and shaking his head.

  Chapter Two

  She sat on the opposite side of the bed, afraid to move. Was he going to fire her and send her on her way? She wouldn't blame him. But she'd been in some kind of fog through all of this and it was hard for her to figure out too.

  She never drank Champagne. She'd never bought a dress like what she was married in, and she certainly never kissed a man, like she had him. But would he believe it, because for a while there, she had let go of all her inhibitions.

  He silently put his clothes on and left the room. Without a word. He didn't throw a fit, he didn't get mad and yell, he just put his clothes on and left.

  What was she to do?

  He hadn't said another word. He just left her there to figure it all out.

  Dear God, what was he going to do, just leave her here? Well, she guessed it served her right, for wearing that stupid, beautiful dress.

  It was late, and the room was rented, and he was gone, so she went to sleep in the beautiful bed that night, alone. She didn't blame the man for being mad. She didn't blame him for what she'd done either.

  She knew she was fired; he didn't have to tell her. Maybe in this big, booming town, she could find work to get her back home. After all, there were always floors to scrub.

  The next morning, she was up bright and early before dawn, and she went into the other room and put her clothes on. This time she put her riding clothes on as she was sure she'd be going home, or at least far from here. There was a silver brush on the counter in front of the round mirror. She brushed her hair.

  She stuffed her gown and carefully folded the beautiful dress and put it in the other valise and picked them up and started for the door.

  But just then, he walked in bolder than brass, giving her a second glance. "Where did you think you were going?"

  "I was about to leave, naturally." She replied. "I didn't think you were coming back. I realize this is all my fault, and I'm sorry, and I'll just go back home and forget about it."

  "Leave, like hell, lady. We are legally married; you can't just forget about it. We're in this together. We are legally married, and you know it. I'm not about to let you walk out of here yet."

  "Look," she came toward him with a guilty expression on her face. "I understand I should have spoken up sooner, that was my mistake. But I still don't understand how you could confuse the two of us. I mean, do I look that much like your fiancée?"

  "No, but she had dark hair and I thought it was just a bad picture of her."

  "You've never seen her?" Trudy turned her head in question.

  "No, we corresponded for two years, is all."

  She let out a huge sigh. "Well, I guess that explains that." She hadn't put her bags down. "I'm sorry, you don't know how sorry. I really needed that job. But you grabbed me and kissed me and whirled me off to the church. Then there were all those people staring and smiling at the church and the preacher was suddenly saying the words over us, and you nudged me, and I heard you say, repeat after me. And I did. The church was so beautiful, it must have cost a fortune to arrange such a thing."

  "I guess I did rush you," he admitted his face mirroring her admission. "And you're right, it did cost a small fortune."

  She stared into his handsome face, his galvanizing glance sending her a warning. "You certainly did rush me, why do you think I fainted? It didn't dawn on me what had happened until it was way too late."

  "Did you faint or was that another ploy?"

  "Another ploy?" Now he had her going, he thought she planned this. He had no idea what kind of temper she had. "Now you look here." She came to stand right in front of him, bowing up to her full five feet two inches, her neck craning to look at him. "I came here to cook for you and your men. As I remember, you sounded rather anxious to get a cook, and I'm damned good at my job." She rasped, prattling on. "But you took control of me at that station. And you wouldn't shut up long enough for me to tell you that you had the wrong woman."

  He looked at her for a moment, as though considering her words.

  He shut up for a moment and paced the small distance between her and the door. "Priscilla was due in today, that's why I had the wedding all arranged. She insisted in her letter that she fully expected a wedding before she went to the ranch. I told her it would all be arranged. And it was. I saw the beautiful dress you were wearing, and I assumed you wore it for the wedding, and that it had been a terrible picture of you."

  He just kept talking, again. She'd never known a man to talk so much.

  "I'm sorry, I really am, and this is quite a mess, and I'm sure a bit embarrassing for you! And myself, I might add."

  "To say the least," he shook his head. "I haven't been myself since I decided to propose. I've been a wreck is what I've been."

  "You were having doubts?" Her head twisted in question.

  "Well I've never been married."

  "Neither have I." she barely uttered.

  She looked at him as he sat on the edge of the bed now. She could see his discomfiture. It was obvious he was trying to figure out how he made such a mistake.

  "Surely we can have this all annulled before she gets here!" she stood at the end of the bed staring at him.

  "It's too late for that."

  She let those words sink in. "I don't understand! We didn't do anything, why is it too late?"

  "Didn't do anything? I practically made love to you. Now, everyone has seen you. Everyone will expect you to be my wife." He shot her a glance. "My God, I've been acting like a fool for weeks now. Now this. Well, you are my wife. And you're the only woman that seen me in my altogether."

  She let a slight chuckle escape despite the seriousness of the situation.

  He frowned, "It isn't funny."

  "I suppose that's true, but there must be a way to rectify this." she shook her head, "What are we going to do? I don't know you. You don't know me! We can't just… "

  "How old are you?"

  "Twenty-four, why?"

  "Your too old!" he shook his head.

  She thought that funny for a minute, then realized he's insulted her. "Too old?" she frowned now. "Well, I'm sorry, I guess you ordered a child bride."

  "I'm talking about the annulment." He snapped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so cruel." He couldn't help the sexy grin he shot her. "If you were under age or something it would be easy to get it annulled."

  "Oh!"

  "You weren't drinking, were you?"

  "I beg your pardon?" she frowned again. "That champagne was the only liquor I have ever drank! I was going to tell you when we first sat down at the table, but your friend interrupted, and I started sipping the champagne a little too quickly. I guess it went to my head. I forgot what I was going to tell you."

  "That's another reason you can get an annulment. Were you?"

  "Drinking, no!"

  "Your certainly not kin to me!"
he glanced at her.

  "I should say not!"

  "We could call it fraud. You were my cook, and I didn't know it. That might work. But trying to explain to all these people, that is my only concern. I guess I should have at least known what she looked like, huh?"

  "Had you given me the least bit of a chance to tell you, I would have!" she exclaimed. "But I certainly wasn't expecting a man to jerk me off the train and kiss me. It put me in a stupor. Things like that just don't happen. I hesitated to slap your face, because I didn't know you."

  "A pretty girl, getting off a train in a dress like that, what was I to think. You had the hair, and you looked so beautiful!"

  "I did?" That admission shocked her.

  He stood up now, all six foot three of him and stared down at her, making her five-foot two look very small in comparison. His face waded into a frown. "I'm trying to find a way out of this. A graceful way."

  She got up on the bed now and looked at him.

  "What are you doing?" He was sure she was out of her mind.

  "I hate not being able to look you eye to eye. I guess a divorce would be a scandal huh?"

  "For me yes." He nodded.

  "Well, where is your fiancée?"

  "That's a good question. Still in Boston, I suspect. I expected her on the train yesterday when you arrived, I thought you were coming next week. When I saw the dark hair and the dress, I just decided it had to be Priscilla. I guess it is my fault, after all."

  "W-well, I was coming next week, but you see, my father died and there was rent to pay, and I was out of money, so I came sooner."

  He stared at her now. "Your father died?" His voice suddenly went softer.

  "Yes. A week ago, and I was about to be evicted, that's why I'm early."

  "How'd he die?" He asked as though it were important.

  "He just keeled over with a heart attack, in the saloon."

  Now he was staring at her. "He died in a saloon?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid he was a heavy drinker. One of the reasons I don't touch the stuff." She reiterated.