Ethan shot it a reproachful glare, but used it to leverage himself from the chair and support his weight across the room.
The excellent wine with dinner, and the whiskey poured by Joaquin after, left Ethan in better spirits. He kept his arm around her shoulders or a hand on her thigh. As they parted for the night, his words, hot and moist against her neck, promised her fireworks and care for the rest of their lives.
Charlotte stretched like a sun-warmed cat when she awoke the following morning. She looked up to see Joaquin and her mother smiling down at her.
“Good morning, dear,” her mother’s voice, joyful and jubilant, filled the room. She set a tray of chocolate and rolls on a table. “Time to rise. It’s your wedding day.”
Charlotte slid from the bed and pulled her mother into her arms. “Mama, I never,” she swallowed the emotional lump that had formed in her throat and went on to finish by saying, “I never thought to wed. I had no idea about men. But even if I had managed to fall in love, I never imagined having my mother with me on my wedding day. It is a gift, the most beautiful gift, I will ever receive.” The first tears of the day slid down her face.
“I missed you every day. Your grandparents, Joaquin and I tried for years to get you away. Please forgive me.” The two women sobbed in each other’s arms, drowning years of regret.
“Dry your tears. This is a happy day, a joyous day. Charlotte, you will marry the man you love, a good man, today.” Joaquin picked up a roll and took a large bite. “You are wasting cook’s best efforts.” He popped the rest of the roll in his mouth and groaned his approval.
“You’re right, darling. You go keep Ethan company. The ceremony will be at four o’clock, and he can’t see the bride before.” Charlotte’s mother pointed at the door, and Joaquin obliged after taking his wife in his arms and delivering a heartfelt kiss.
By four, the patio had been transformed into paradise. Pots overflowing with flowers filled the courtyard, the fountain burbled and gurgled, and a path strewn with petals would lead Charlotte to Ethan.
Her breath hitched, and she struggled for oxygen. Joaquin patted her hand and raised his single brow. She nodded, and they took their place at one end of the flower aisle. Charlotte locked her eyes with Ethan’s. When he graced her with his sexy smile and a wink, the world went still, held motionless in this moment.
Mary began to play her guitar. Her voice rose pure and sweet, soaring and sweeping, as she strummed Ave Maria. Her brothers stood soldier straight at Ethan’s side, and her mother waited for her, smiling, crying, rejoicing. At the end of the petal path, stood the priest covered neck to feet in a brown robe tied with a simple rope belt. He held a worn Bible in his hands and wore a gentle smile on his sun-wrinkled face.
Joaquin placed her hand in Ethan’s and kissed her cheek. “The priest does not speak English. I will translate his sermon and Ethan’s vows. Your mother will translate for you, Charlotte.” He stepped away and the priest cleared his throat and words, solemn and soft, embraced them.
The priest paused and waited for Joaquin to translate. “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered to join this man and this woman in matrimony, a holy estate ordained by God. It is not to be entered into lightly.” The words poured over them like honey warmed in the sun. Charlotte drowned in their thick sweetness and was lost in Ethan’s eyes.
The translated vows were repeated, embraced and sworn to. Ethan slipped a ring on her finger and brought it to his lips. Joaquin patted Ethan on the back and declared, “You may now kiss your bride.”
His kiss was both a benediction and a promise. “Til death do us part, little girl,” he whispered into her ear.
By some unknown signal, the courtyard filled with the gauchos, house staff, villagers and their families. Children stamped their small feet while men dressed in their best black pants and boots danced to the mariachi band. Women twirled holding brightly colored skirts high to their sides and the air echoed with shouts. Enchiladas, burritos, chili rellenos, rice, beans, beer and chocolate pastries emerged from the Hernandez kitchens.
“A marriage at the hacienda is a major event.” Charlotte’s mother joined them. “The people here work hard, and the opportunity to celebrate is a welcome change from their daily lives.” She watched as a small boy twirled an even smaller girl on the dance floor. She chuckled. “Your clothes have been moved to Ethan’s rooms. You will have more privacy out of the family wing. We will leave food outside your door tomorrow and a bath will be ready in the room across the hall in the morning.” She squeezed Charlotte’s arm and laughed. “Leave anytime you wish. This party will go on for a good while. We will see you on Monday.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Ethan swept his bride into his arms and with only a small limp carried her to his room. “You know what I like about these clothes?”
“What?”
“It’s easy to get you out of them.” He pulled the ribbon at the top of her bustier. “Arms up,” he commanded.
Charlotte blushed and covered her breasts with crossed arms.
“Mercy. Didn’t you just promise to obey?”
She felt a firm smack to the back of her skirt.
“Arms up.”
She hurried to obey. Her clothes fell from her like autumn leaves from a tree. His clothes joined the pile on the floor.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled her between his thighs. His tongue on her breast sent waves of pleasure rocketing head to toe, but left a deep ache between her thighs. She was his feast, and she didn’t plan for him to leave the table hungry. They enjoyed every bite, every morsel, every lick and returned for second and thirds and fourths.
When they emerged Monday, sated and satisfied, the hacienda was clean and cleared of party debris.
“Tell me, Ethan,” Joaquin said, and turned toward his son-in-law at supper, “what are your plans?”
“l thought we’d stay a few more days. Charlotte and I will miss all of you, but I don’t know how soon we can return.” Ethan put his arm around his wife.
“Stay as long as you wish. Family is always welcome under my roof. You could live with us, but my wife has told me this is not your desire.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” Ethan placed a little kiss on Charlotte’s temple. “We’ll head for Texas on Wednesday.”
“I will send some men to guard you. Charlotte’s father is still out there somewhere.” Joaquin shrugged his shoulders.
“Charlotte is my wife now. I have rights.” Ethan built up a good head of indignation.
“I know, Ethan, I know. I just don’t trust that man. Let me send an escort.”
Ethan nodded and pulled Charlotte close.
At first light the next morning, Ethan was up and getting dressed. “I’m going to ride out with Joaquin today. He’s taking most of the men with him for a big round up. I can help now I can get my boot on, and I’m about to explode with all this sitting around.”
Charlotte supplied a smile and a simper. “So that’s what we’ve been doing.”
Ethan threw his head back and laughed. “Well, among other things.” He gave her bottom a friendly pat. “See you this afternoon.”
Charlotte’s mother plopped into an overstuffed chair and placed her arms on both armrests. “This is how they sit. Spread out and big in the chair.” She laughed. “So, we are to have a day together. No men to disturb us, just two married ladies setting in for a nice, long chat.”
Charlotte speared her mother with a smile before scowling at the yards of fabric in her lap. “Mama, would you help me finish the embroidery on this blanket? If we both work on it, I can take it with me when we leave tomorrow.” Her face scrunched into a thunderous frown. “I want to go with Ethan, but I hate to leave you.”
“Let’s not waste our fine day feeling sorry.” Charlotte’s mother spread the blanket on the floor. “You sit there, and I’ll pull this chair over. We can work and talk.”
Hours passed as their needles flew and a garden of flowers bloomed on th
e blanket. Red, yellow, vivid blues and greens on a field of white. “This will be our quilt. I will think of you every morning when I make the bed.” Charlotte’s lower lip trembled.
“None of that, mija. We have found one another, and my heart is full.” She set the quilt aside. “Come. We need a light lunch, and a little siesta before we finish.”
The sun had passed its hottest peak and shadows crept across the floor when Charlotte and her mother picked up their needles and encased their thumbs in thimbles once more. The hum of a mosquito, the strum of Mary’s guitar, and the snick, snick of the clipping scissors brought a peaceful lethargy.
“Joaquin and Ethan should be home soon. Joaquin hates to miss the family hour before dinner.” Her mother aimed a secret smile at the colorful blanket.
With a bang, the door flew open and bounced off the wall.
“Father.” Charlotte gasped.
“Francis.” Charlotte’s mother stood and a rainbow of multi-colored thread spread across the floor. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” His voice was a snarl. “I want you. I’ve come to claim my wife. I would have been happy to get Charlotte back, but now I’ve traveled all this way, I’ll take my wife. I’m going to enjoy my husbandly rights.” He sneered. “I decided to do the job myself this time. Those detectives couldn’t find the noses on their faces.”
“The men…” Charlotte began.
“Shut up. The men are miles away. I’ve been watching.” Her father moved, heavy-footed and black-hearted, across the room toward Charlotte’s mother.
“Don’t touch me, Francis.” She backed away from the advancing man with hands held out as if to ward off evil.
“I’ll do more than touch you once we get across the Rio Grande and back in the good old U.S.A.” He growled and took another step. “You’ll be a proper wife to me this time around. No more whining. No more crying. I won’t put up with it.”
Charlotte’s mother took another backward step. “You don’t understand. Stop where you are. Don’t touch me. They have orders.”
Her father lunged forward and grabbed her mother’s arm in a pinching grip. “You’re coming with me.”
Charlotte sensed the guards. Over the weeks, she had forgotten about them as they stood like wraiths in the shadows of the room. Invisible, unseen, concealed—they hovered. Now they stepped forward and filled the room. Each guard had a gun pointed at the intruder.
The air exploded as triggers were pulled and two bullets sped to their target. Charlotte’s father crumpled to the ground. His face frozen in the rictus of surprise.
Charlotte dropped to her knees, tears falling freely, and took up her father’s hand, but he had disappeared into death. His face was already a mask, his body an empty shell.
Ethan and Joaquin burst into the room, scanning for their women.
Charlotte’s mother wailed. “I tried to tell him, Joaquin. I told him they had orders.”
“What exactly were their orders?” Ethan’s eyes were fixed on the guns lowered at the guard’s side.
“If a stranger touches my wife, shoot him.” Joaquin pulled his wife into the circle of his arms. “I knew someday he would show up, and I had to protect her.”
Charlotte’s reddened eyes bounced from her father to Ethan. He lifted her from the ground and enclosed her in his arms.
“The man needs to be buried,” Ethan said.
“We have a family graveyard on the hill. For Charlotte’s sake, I would allow him to rest there,” said Joaquin. “Ethan, see to the women. I’ll have some men take his body to the barn, build a coffin, and prepare him for burial.”
Later that night Ethan held Charlotte tightly in his arms. Her back nestled against his front, his legs supporting her bottom.
“I like Joaquin ’s orders. I plan to make them my own.” Ethan pulled her closer. “If a stranger touches my wife, shoot him.”
Charlotte drifted into slumber, secure and safe. Wriggling her bottom into the curve of his body, she sighed her pleasure.
She had been a treasure. Now, she was treasured. Treasured, loved, protected, and Ethan’s.
Always and forever, Ethan’s.
Epilogue
Trestle tables groaned under pies, cakes, ham, fried chicken, breads, and salads. Every possible culinary delight the good women of San Miguel could bring forth from their kitchens lay ready and waiting on the long slabs of wood. A little stage scattered with instruments spoke of music and dancing after the heat of the day passed by. Children played. Women chatted. Men played horseshoes or took part in the ball game in the field behind the barn. More than one silver flask passed hand to hand and more than one bottle did the same.
Charlotte and Ethan rounded the corner and entered the yard of the Circle M. Ethan pulled his hat from his head, tipped his chin to the sky and laughed. “It’s like the day we met, little girl. Mike and Megan are having a party.”
Ethan swung down from his horse and moved to Charlotte’s side. He held up his hands and gestured for her to let him help her.
“I can dismount on my own.” Charlotte looked down at her husband with narrowed eyes.
“I know it, but I like to feel your body slide down mine. Don’t be contrary. Let me help.” He made a second come-on flick with his fingers, and Charlotte obliged with a happy sigh.
“Ethan,” Mike’s voice carried across the yard. A baby was perched on one arm and Megan was tucked under the other as they hurried to greet their guests.
The women dissolved into happy tears and the men thumped one another on the back. Smiles so big they looked painful adorned every face.
“Wouldn’t you know it? Ethan always shows up for a party. If I’d known that, we would have had one sooner.” Mike laughed.
“Does this party have a purpose?” Ethan gazed at his wife as she held the baby to her chest. Damn. She looked good with a child in her arms.
“The brothers, the Taylor boys, are moving to their ranch. They have their cattle and the deed to the property. This is a little send off.” Mike waved a hand towards the gathering. “Sally Ann is due to have her baby any day, so it seemed best to get the move behind them.”
Ethan draped an arm around his wife. “How is The Boss?”
Megan giggled. “Bossy as ever for certain sure.” She patted the small back in question.
“You girls go get comfortable on the porch.” Mike pointed toward the shady spot. “Ethan and I will fill some plates and join you.”
Once settled at the table, Mike handed Ethan a glass of whiskey. “Where have you two been?” He leaned down to pat Caesar’s head. Now that the sun was heading for the horizon, the big dog had left the cool under the porch and arranged himself at Mike’s feet with his chin resting on his boot.
Ethan laughed. “That’s a story for a full bottle and a long night. We can tell you the important parts.” He picked up Charlotte’s left hand and held it for inspection. “We’re married. Married twice, in fact.”
“Twice?” questioned Megan.
“We married at my mother and step-father’s hacienda in Mexico,” Charlotte explained.
“You found her.” Megan squealed.
“We did.” Ethan nodded. “I wanted to be legal on both sides of the border, so when we returned to Langtry we married again in the good old U.S.A. There’s a fella there, Roy Bean, he calls himself the Law West of the Pecos.”
He held his glass of whiskey toward Mike. “Refill?” he asked. The golden liquid splashed into his glass. “I don’t know about him being the law, but for five dollars he will marry you and provide a license legal in the great state of Texas.”
Charlotte interrupted her husband to say, “The best part is that it was a double wedding. My mother and step-father traveled with us and Judge Bean married them too.”
“I thought your mother couldn’t enter the country because of your father.” Megan’s confusion was writ clear in her face.
“That’s true.” Ethan rubbed circles of comfort on his wife’
s back. “Charlotte’s father showed up in Mexico, and he died there. He’s buried on the Hernandez hacienda.”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.” Megan grasped her friend’s hand.
“Thank you. He wasn’t a good man, but he was my father. Anyway, now my mother can come to America. I have Ethan to protect me, but we don’t have to worry about my father any longer.”
The crack of a bat split the early evening air. Mike and Ethan stood to get a better look as the ball sailed in a high arc to land so far beyond the deepest outfielder that he simply stood and watched it fly.
“Holy hell,” Mike whispered in admiration.
“Who’s the Viking?” Ethan watched the giant of a man drop the bat and lope around the bases.
“Sven Nielson, he’s the new preacher,” Megan said.
“He’s the preacher?” Ethan’s voice rose in disbelief.
“Yup. John Wayne knows him. When the old preacher retired, he suggested Sven. I’ll tell you one thing. The pews are full to groaning with every unmarried woman in the county dressed in her best every week.” Mike clapped his hands in delight at his own joke.
“That is true. He could have his pick of a wife.” Megan threw a blanket over her shoulder and settled the baby to her breast. “He makes furniture, too, in a little shop behind the church.”
The men returned to their seats. “What are your plans, Ethan? Will you be the sheriff again?” Mike asked.
“No, I talked to the mayor and Bob has been doing a great job. Doesn’t seem fair to make him a deputy again.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “We’d like to stay around. Maybe I’ll buy some land.”
“Until you decide, I could sure use your help. Losing the Taylor brothers puts me in a world of hurt. Bill was the foreman, and the house,” he pointed at the small house across the path to the river and continued, “is empty.”
Charlotte and Megan sat straight and tall. Their attention focused on Ethan’s face with the intensity of high noon.
His laugh rumbled from his chest. “Well, I will be one unpopular fella if I say no.” He laid his large hand on Charlotte’s leg. “We’ll stay for a bit.”
Treasured (Lonestar Love Book 2) Page 17
