She took a deep breath as the church came into view. She wished suddenly that her father were there to walk her down the aisle. Nettie had suggested that Victor escort her, but Marty had flatly refused. Instead, she had asked Sam Bruckner.
Alighting from the buggy, she hurried to the church. Opening the door a crack, she peeked inside. The first few rows were filled with their closest friends and neighbors. The Mulvaneys were noticeably absent. Victor sat in the first row, on the aisle.
She smiled at Sam. He looked handsome in a dark brown suit, white shirt, and black string tie.
He shifted from one foot to the other. “New boots,” he explained.
Taking Nettie’s arm, he escorted her to her seat, then came back for Marty.
The organist began to play.
Dani handed Marty her bouquet. “You look lovely, Marty.”
“So do you,” Marty replied, thinking it wasn’t fair that the maid of honor was prettier than the bride.
Dani kissed Marty on the cheek, gave her a quick hug, then turned and started down the aisle.
Sam placed Marty’s hand on his arm. “Ready?”
She nodded. Walking down the aisle, she was hardly aware of her surroundings. Her whole being was focused on the tall man standing at the altar beside Reverend Waters. Ridge wore black trousers, a white shirt, a black vest, and a long black coat. His hair, neatly trimmed, fell to his shoulders. She grinned inwardly. No gun in sight. It was the first time she had seen him unarmed.
When they reached the altar, the reverend stepped forward, and Sam Bruckner backed up and sat down across from Nettie.
The reverend turned his gaze on Marty and Ridge and then looked out over the wedding guests.
“We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, and not to be entered into lightly. If there is anyone here present who knows of any impediment to this union, let him speak now.”
The reverend paused, his gaze sweeping the congregation. “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
Nettie stood up. “I do.”
Reverend Waters nodded at her, then looked at Ridge and Marty. “Please join hands. Ridge Longtree, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her and cleave only unto her so long as you both shall live?”
Ridge gazed into Marty’s eyes. “I do,” he replied, his voice deep and rich and firm.
“And do you, Martha Jean Flynn, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him and cleave only unto him so long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she said softly, fervently.
“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Waters smiled at Ridge. “This is it, son. You may kiss the bride.”
Slowly, almost reverently, Ridge lifted her veil and took her in his arms. “I love you, Mrs. Longtree,” he murmured, and then he kissed her.
Heat spread through Marty, not the tingling warmth of desire, but the soothing warmth of belonging, of being where she was meant to be.
When he broke the kiss, she smiled up at him, and he winked at her.
Waters spoke to the wedding guests again. “I give you our town’s newest couple, Mr. and Mrs. Ridge Longtree.”
Hand in hand, Ridge and Marty turned to face their guests.
“Nettie Flynn has asked me to tell you that you’re all invited out to the ranch to celebrate the nuptials,” the reverend said. “May God bless you all. Amen.”
Ridge and Marty walked down the aisle and left the church, then circled around the building to where Sanza was waiting, and then the three of them hurried into a side entrance.
When all the guests had left the building, Sanza and Dani stood before the preacher and exchanged their wedding vows.
Reverend Waters looked a little uncomfortable at officiating at a ceremony where the groom wore leggings, a buckskin shirt, a clout, and moccasins, but, all things considered, Marty thought he carried it off rather well.
He cleared his throat when he came to the part about kissing the bride, making her wonder if he didn’t know if Indians kissed or if he was just opposed to Indians kissing white girls.
Dani glanced at him, and then, taking matters into her own hands, she stood on tiptoe and kissed Sanza.
Marty looked at her mother and Ridge and they all burst out laughing.
Ridge paid the preacher for both weddings, then turned to his bride. “What do you say, Mrs. Longtree—are you ready to go home?”
“That I am, Mr. Longtree,” she replied. “That I am.”
Their guests were at the ranch waiting for them when they arrived. Ridge helped Marty out of the buggy and they walked around to the side of the house where several long tables had been set up. Nettie had outdone herself. There was cold ham, potato salad, applesauce, fresh-baked bread, fried chicken, and a cake decorated with pink roses.
Marty and Ridge circulated through the crowd, thanking people for coming and accepting their gifts and good wishes and congratulations.
There was a stir when Dani appeared with Sanza by her side. Ridge knew the warrior had not wanted to attend the reception, but Dani had finally persuaded him. Nettie hurried to greet them, and then, approaching each of their guests, she introduced Sanza as Dani’s husband. Most people smiled politely and shook his hand. A few didn’t smile, but no one refused to shake his hand. It was, Ridge supposed, the best that could be hoped for under the circumstances.
A few of the men had brought their instruments, and after everyone had eaten their fill, they began to play a waltz.
Marty looked at Ridge. “Do you dance?”
“Not much.”
“Me, either.”
He grinned as he took her by the hand. “Shall we?”
“I’m game if you are,” she replied.
They danced the first waltz, and then other couples joined them, including Victor and Nettie.
Marty scowled at them.
“Hey, quit that,” Ridge chided. “People will take one look at your face and think we’re fighting already.”
“Why did he have to come?”
Ridge didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed her, right there on the dance floor. Whistles and catcalls rose from those on the sidelines.
Marty looked up at him and laughed, all else forgotten.
The afternoon shadows grew long. The kids played games. The adults danced or sat in the shade, the men talking about the price of wheat and cattle, the women reminiscing about their own weddings or speculating on how long it would be before Martha Jean was in the family way.
At dusk, their guests began taking their leave. Marty glanced at her husband, who hadn’t left her side since that morning. He looked handsomer than the law allowed. Every time his hooded gaze met hers, she felt a rush of heat, followed by a longing so intense it was almost frightening. Soon, she thought, soon they would be alone. What if, after all the waiting, she disappointed him? What if he disappointed her? Lordy, no wonder brides were nervous!
When the last farewell had been said, Nettie and Dani started cleaning up the tables. When Marty started to help, they both shooed her away.
“You don’t want to get that dress soiled, do you, now?” Nettie asked. “Besides, this is your wedding day. Go spend it with your husband.”
Husband. What a strange and wonderful word.
Ridge smiled as she walked up to him. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
“No,” she said, pouting prettily.
“Well, you’re the most beautiful, beguiling woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Beguiling? Me?”
“You.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll do my best to make you happy, Martha Jean.”
“I’m already happy.” She glanced past his shoulder. “I’d be a lot happier if he went home.”
Ridge blew out a sigh. He didn’t have to look to know whom she was talking about. Though all the other guests had gone hom
e, Victor lingered. Just now he was sitting on the front porch, idly thumbing through the newspaper. He didn’t seem inclined to leave anytime soon. Had it been up to him, Ridge would have asked the man to leave, but it wasn’t his place to do so. Hell, maybe Nettie wanted him here.
Later, when the tables were cleared and the food put away, Nettie called the family together.
“I haven’t given you your wedding present yet,” Nettie said. “Wait right here.”
She went into the house, returning a moment later with a large envelope tied with a white satin ribbon. Smiling broadly, she handed it to Marty.
Marty looked at her mother and then at the envelope.
“Go on,” Nettie said, “open it.”
Removing the ribbon, Marty opened the envelope and withdrew a sheet of paper. It was the deed to the ranch. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nettie asked. “I’m giving you the ranch as a wedding present. It’s only in your name now, but you can have Ridge’s name added the next time you go into town.”
Marty stared at Nettie, speechless. And then she put her arms around her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Try ‘Thank you’,” Ridge said, slipping his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“‘Thank you’ doesn’t seem like enough,” Marty murmured, still stunned by her mother’s generosity.
“I know how you love this place,” Nettie said. “And if I know Seamus, he knew that eventually I’d give it to you.”
Tears pricked Marty’s eyes at the mention of her father.
“No tears, Martha Jean,” Nettie said, blinking back tears of her own. “This is a happy occasion.” She looked over at Victor, who was standing on the porch, one hand clutching the rail. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Claunch said. “A happy occasion.”
But he wasn’t smiling.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ridge had had enough chitchat for one day. Taking Martha by the hand, he nodded to Nettie and the others then swung his bride into his arms and carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her bedroom.
He continued to hold her while he looked around. It was the first time he had been in her room since she redecorated it. He grunted softly. “Looks real nice.”
“I’m glad you like it. Hmm,” she murmured as she ran one hand over the muscle in his arm. “I like this.”
He lowered her to her feet, then drew her up against him, one hand sliding up and down her back as he rained kisses over her nose, her cheeks, the curve of her throat.
She moaned softly as he pressed his lips over her breast, the heat of his breath penetrating the silk of her gown.
Lifting his head, he grinned at her. “Like that, do you?”
She nodded.
He smiled, pleased. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around then began unfastening the long row of buttons down the back of her gown.
Marty shivered as his fingers brushed her skin. Stepping out of her dress, she turned to face him. His gaze moved over her, his eyes smoldering.
“You’re even prettier than I thought you’d be.”
Kneeling, he removed her shoes and stockings. Then his hands slid up the length of one leg, and slowly slid back down.
Rising, he removed the rest of her undergarments until she stood bared to his gaze, a faint blush tingeing her skin under his warm regard. Lastly, he removed the pins from her hair. Freed of the pins, her hair fell down her back and over her shoulders in lush waves.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick.
“Am I?” It had always been Dani who was the pretty one.
He nodded. “Honey, you’re more than beautiful.”
She flushed, pleased by his compliment, by the admiration in his eyes, the love in his voice. Then, feeling a little uncomfortable at being the only one who was undressed, Marty slipped his coat over his shoulders and tossed it on a chair. She removed his vest and his shirt and tossed them both on top of his coat, then started to unbuckle his belt.
“Wait,” he said. Reaching behind his back, he withdrew a Derringer and dropped it on the dresser.
Marty grimaced. “I should have known,” she muttered, reaching for his belt buckle again.
His hands skimmed over her body while she unfastened his belt. He stepped out of his trousers, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots and socks. Naked now, he stood, one brow arched as her gaze moved over him.
His skin was a smooth copper color, puckered here and there with scars. His arms and legs were well muscled, his shoulders broad and strong. She blushed as she slid a glance at that part of him that made him a man.
Ridge grinned. “Haven’t you ever seen a naked man before?”
“Not from the front. It’s quite…um…” Her cheeks grew hotter as she sought a word to describe it.
Laughing softly, he drew her into his arms. She marveled at the feel of his skin, so warm and firm against her own. She’d had no idea it would feel so wonderful to be naked in a man’s arms. She stroked his cheek, the faint indention in his jaw. She had heard other women describe the act of love as something a woman had to endure. Surely they could not be talking about what she was experiencing, for she would gladly endure this bliss, these exciting feelings, every day for the rest of her life. She ran her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it.
“You’re beautiful, too,” she said shyly.
He looked down at himself and laughed. “Scars and all?”
“Scars and all. There’s so many of them. Where on earth did you get them all?”
“I’ll tell you someday,” he said. “But not now.”
And then he was kissing her again, his lips trailing fire, burning a path from her neck to her navel and back again, his tongue a clever flame that had her gasping with pleasure.
Murmuring her name, he carried her to their bed and stretched out beside her, wooing her with his hands and his lips, whispering that he loved her, adored her, could not live without her. His words warmed her heart and soul because she knew, deep inside, that he had never said them to anyone else before.
Passion made her bold, and she began an exploration of her own, letting her hands wander where they would, measuring the width of his shoulders, making him flex his arms so she could squeeze the muscles in his biceps. She loved the way his muscles tensed and rippled beneath her hands, the sense of latent strength beneath her fingertips. He was brown all over, and not just where the sun had touched him. She loved looking at him, touching him, breathing in the sheer masculine scent of him.
She discovered he liked it when she ran her fingernails over his chest and down his belly, and laughed with delight when she discovered his feet were ticklish. Her hands roamed over every inch of him, from head to foot and all the delicious places in between.
He groaned low in his throat when she stroked the inside of his thigh. “You’re playing with fire, girl,” he warned.
The heat in his eyes seared a path to the very heart of her being. “Am I?”
“Keep it up and you’ll find out.”
She caressed him ever so lightly, teasing him with her fingertips until, with a low growl, he rose over her, his dark eyes aflame with desire.
She knew a moment of trepidation, and then, with one quick thrust, his body was a part of hers. She let out a soft cry of pained surprise.
Rearing back a little, he gazed down at her. “You all right, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” She clutched his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he whispered, and then he was moving deep inside her. He kissed her and caressed her. All the while he moved within her, every stroke bringing pleasure, until she writhed beneath him, chasing something that seemed forever elusive until she reached the pinnacle of desire and pitched over the edge. Wave after wave of ecstasy rippled through her. She felt him convulse, heard her name on his lips as he collapsed on top of her, breathing hea
vily.
They lay that way for several minutes, and then he rose on his elbows and looked down at her. “Still all right?”
“Hmm,” she purred. “Better than all right. Can we do it again?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “As often as you wish.”
It was, she thought, a decidedly masculine, satisfied smile. Pulling his head down, she kissed him. “Thank you for making my first time wonderful.”
“It’ll be even better this time,” he promised.
She shook her head. “It couldn’t be.”
“Wait and see,” he said.
And she did.
And it was.
Marty woke slowly, aware of a heavy weight across her stomach and a soreness between her thighs. She frowned, and then she smiled. The weight was her husband’s arm, and the soreness was no doubt due to the fact that they had made love all night long.
She grinned. He had been right. Making love to Ridge just got better and better. Glancing at her husband, she saw that he was awake and watching her.
“Mornin’, wife,” he drawled.
“Good morning, husband,” she replied. His skin looked very brown against the crisp, white sheets. Her gaze moved over the width of his shoulders, down his chest, to his waist. The sheet covered the rest of him, but did nothing to hide what he was thinking.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.
She grinned at him. “Wonderful!”
Rolling onto his side, he gathered her into his arms. “So what do you want to do today?”
“The same thing we did last night,” she replied with a saucy grin.
Laughing softly, he tossed the sheet aside and lifted her on top of him. “Your wish is my command, Mrs. Longtree,” he drawled, and spent the next two hours fulfilling her every desire.
Marty couldn’t stop smiling as she made her way downstairs. She ached in places she’d never known she had, but it was a pleasant kind of pain.
When she entered the kitchen, she found Nettie there, rolling out a pie crust.
“Well,” her mother said, glancing at the clock, “it’s about time you got up.”
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