by Stacey Kayne
“No,” Chance said, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “You’ve never belonged to her, Cora Mae.”
“She never wanted me.”
The pain in Cora Mae’s eyes ripped at his heart. His hatred doubled for a woman who’d been given the sun, but was too selfish to absorb its warmth. When he looked at Cora Mae, he saw beauty, sunlight, the promise of enough heat to melt his heart.
“Sweetheart, she’s never deserved you.” He gathered her close and felt a wave of relief as she embraced him, her arm banding around his waist.
“Cora, I won’t hurt you.”
“But it does hurt,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.
Chance caressed her back as rage clawed through him. God save him if he ever came face-to-face with Winifred and her laird. If he hadn’t yet earned his spot in hell, what he’d do to them would carve his name into the brimstone.
He drew a steady breath and strove to keep a neutral tone. “Did it hurt when I kissed you just now?”
She peered up at him, her chin resting on his shirt. Her slow smile set off a burst of warmth inside him.
“No,” she said in a whisper.
He tugged on an auburn curl, loving the feel of her in his arms, her relaxed weight pressed against his side.
“How did it make you feel?”
“Warm and safe and…wonderful.”
He couldn’t fight his smile. “Me, too. I’ve kissed quite a few women, Cora Mae, and it’s never felt that way for me. Not until you.”
Her eyes widened, emphasizing flecks of gold and amber amidst many shades of brown. He slid his finger along the inside of her wrist. Watching her tremble from the light touch, his body coiled with mounting desire. “You feel that?”
She nodded.
“That’s passion.”
“When did this happen?” she asked.
Laughter broke from his chest. She delighted him in ways nothing ever had. “For me, it started when I realized the attractive woman who stole my attention the moment I spotted her on the boardwalk was the girl I’d been missing for most of my life.”
Cora’s breath caught. The gentle smile on his lips swelled her heart to the point of bursting.
“You like being in my arms.”
She couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”
“You fit perfectly against me,” he pointed out, glancing down at the length of them.
They did seem to mesh well together. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened as he leaned and kissed her nose, then her lips. “This is how it will be between us,” he said. “No pain. Only passion.” He kissed her forehead. “And pleasure.” His lips brushed hers. “And trust.”
The words were nothing more than his breath on her lips before he deepened the kiss, teaching her the meaning of all three. By the time she eased away from him, her breath was coming fast and hard. She felt weak and excited all at once.
“I’m not used to feeling this way.”
“Me, neither.” He lifted a lock of her hair from his chest and let the red coils slide through his fingers. “Since you arrived, my days begin and end with thoughts of you. I crave your smiles, your company.”
It was the same for her. When he looked at her as he was now, his eyes shining like green embers, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else.
“Stay with me.”
“Okay.”
“Marry me.”
The urgency in his gaze increased the tantalizing stir of her body.
Marry Chance. She had never dared to dream.
Hadn’t it always been Chance and his wild ways, daring her to be bold, bringing her the joy she’d never known to seek?
“Is that a dare?” she asked, a smile tipping her lips.
His slow smile added to the wild surge of excitement building inside her.
“Oh yeah,” he said, his mouth seeking hers once again. “A triple-dog dare.”
Chapter Seventeen
I t had been damn hard, leaving the comfort of Cora Mae’s arms and the quiet serenity of Mag’s cabin. He could have sat huddled up on the small bed for the rest of the night, listening as Cora Mae told him about her days at the mill, the work she’d done, the friends she’d made—interrupted by intermittent kisses and light caresses. In that hour, an ease settled over him, contentment reflected in Cora Mae as she relaxed to his touch and shared his kiss.
Only when Chance realized darkness would soon be impeding their travels and Mag would likely want her privacy back, did he force himself to get up from the small bed and lead Cora Mae into the surrounding grove and the chirping of birds. He helped her onto his saddled bay. A short way down the trail he found the stallion Cora Mae had taken tethered to some tree branches.
As they neared the ranch, the sparkle of pond water caught Chance’s attention. Surrounded by green, the tall grasses spotted by wildflowers, it seemed the perfect location. The sun would be setting soon, painting pink hues across the sky, giving them just enough time to get married.
He glanced at Cora Mae. Disheveled and dusty, her hair a wild array of colorful curls streaming out behind her shoulders, she’d never looked more beautiful to him.
“How about we get married in the meadow, near the pond?”
She followed his gaze, her eyes sliding toward the tree where he’d first kissed her. A smile bowed her pink lips.
“What do you think?”
“That would be wonderful.”
Yeah. He was thinking it would.
Reaching the back porch, he dismounted and went to help her down. He could see she was trying to figure out how she could dismount in her skirts while maintaining her modesty.
He reached up and grabbed her waist. “Kick your leg over the back end,” he suggested. As she did, he lifted her and set her on the ground. “When’s the last time you rode astride?”
“When I was nine,” she said smiling up at him. “With you.”
“And you took that stud?”
“I got to where I was going,” she said, making the most of her five feet as her jaw took on a familiar stubborn edge.
“You did,” he agreed.
Recalling Duce’s comment about Cora Mae being the kind of woman to flourish out here, he decided the man had been right. Chance wasn’t sure why that came as such a surprise. For all her soft beauty, Cora Mae had proven to have will and drive to match his own. As he tucked her beside him, he noted how she complemented him to perfection—soft where he was hard, generous with her affection when he yearned to show more.
He wanted to kiss her, but decided he needed to start implementing some of the restraint he’d surely need to make it through the night.
“Cora!” Skylar walked onto the back porch. “Are you all right?”
Cora felt a pang of guilt at the sight of Skylar’s concern, her blue eyes widening as she spotted her torn skirt. “I’m not hurt,” she assured her.
“Just some scrapes,” Chance said as they ascended the steps.
“Sorry if I’ve worried you.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right.” Skylar’s gaze moved between them. “Is everything all right?”
Chance glanced down at her, and Cora realized anew how very tall he was. The top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulders.
“Are we all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said, smiling. “We’re going to be wed in the meadow,” she said to Skylar.
Skylar blinked in surprise. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve just finished frosting the wedding cake.”
“Wedding cake?”
“Chance isn’t lacking in confidence,” Skylar said, smiling at her brother-in-law before she turned to go inside. “He asked me to bake the cake before going after you.”
Following her into the kitchen, her breath caught at the sight of a tall white cake sitting on the table, three tiers stacked on top of each other. A pile of small pink flowers lay on the table, clearly a decoration Skylar intended to use.
“Nothi
ng fancy, to be sure.”
“It’s beautiful,” Cora said, moisture springing to her eyes.
“Thanks, Sky,” said Chance.
“My pleasure. Margarete took care of supper. You can look forward to a traditional Spanish meal.”
After he wed Cora Mae. Chance ushered his bride toward the dining room. As they neared the front room, she heard the murmur of Tucker’s voice and spotted him sitting on one of the chairs. Realizing a guest sat in the parlor across from Tucker, she hesitated. Chance’s hand on the small of her back urged her forward.
“Preacher,” he whispered near her ear.
The older man stood with Tucker, his silvery gray hair sleeked over his scalp. A gentle smile lifted a network of wrinkles in his tawny skin. “Found your bride, I see?”
Cora flushed, certain her appearance was quite ravaged.
“Yes, sir. Reverend John Keats, this is CoraMaeTindale.”
“Reverend Keats,” she said.
“Miss Tindale, it is a fine pleasure to meet you.”
“Is there a church nearby?” she asked.
“Do believe the mining depot is the closest,” he said. “I’ve been retired for some years, but am glad to be called upon when needed. I’d be honored to perform your marriage ceremony, if that’s your wish.”
The reverend glanced to his side and Cora noticed Tucker’s tense expression
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve agreed to marry Chance.”
“We’d like to exchange vows out by the pond,” Chance said, “if that would be all right. I don’t have rings—”
“Not a problem, my boy. By the pond will be splendid. Shall we proceed?”
“We’re ready if you are,” said Chance.
“No, you’re not,” Skylar piped in, just when Cora feared Chance intended her to be wed in a torn and tattered dress. “Cora needs time to prepare.”
The disappointment in Chance’s eyes brought a smile to her lips. “I won’t run,” she said in a teasing tone.
His answering smile put a kick in her pulse. “How long do you need?” he asked.
She was tempted to marry him right here and now, more than ready to feel his arms around her, his lips against hers.
“Thirty minutes,” Skylar answered for her. She took her by the arm and tugged her toward the stairs. Once inside her bedroom, Skylar shut the door and pinned Cora with a hard gaze.
“How are you feeling? Really?”
“I’m not certain.” Her insides were a mess of jitters and excitement.
“Is this what you want, Cora?”
“I think so.”
“Do you love him?”
“Ever so much.”
Skylar smiled. “Then let’s get you ready.”
“What should I wear?”
“The gown you wore the day you arrived would be lovely.”
Cora frowned, recalling Chance’s scowl as his gaze had roved her attire on the day of her arrival. “I had the distinct impression Chance didn’t like it.”
“Oh, I believe he cared for it more than he was wanting to. You get to the tub. I’ll warm the iron.”
“Do I have time for a bath?” she asked, the idea of easing into warm clean water sounding good enough to make her groan.
“They can’t start without you. You are the bride.”
Cora sucked in a deep, quivering breath.
She was the bride.
Thirty minutes later Chance stood beside Reverend Keats and his brother, wearing the stiff, collared shirt and snug black suit he’d borrowed from Mitch so as not to disturb Cora Mae. The wind had actually died down, the pond mirroring the pink-streaked sky. Their wedding guests stood behind the two kitchen chairs that had been brought out for Zeke and Margarete. The couple smiled up at him, each holding a baby. Garret stood with the other ranch hands, Joshua in his arms, a scowl on his face.
Chance shifted nervously as he glanced again toward the back of the house. Tucker tapped his sleeve.
“You still got time to change your mind.”
Chance didn’t hear him, his gaze locked on the vision of sunlight walking through the meadow. Her hair had been swept up. Tiny white flowers had been tucked into the cascade of auburn curls. Her pale cheeks flushed to the color of sunset as she walked toward him, the soft rustle of her fancy yellow gown dictating the slow, painful thump of his heart. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers, the stems bound in a white satin ribbon. He thought of the frayed satin tucked into a pouch upstairs, all the time he’d searched for a thread of goodness in life, and thought of her. It had always been Cora Mae, his beacon of light, keeping the darkness from claiming his spirit.
Tucker muttered something near his ear. Cora Mae’s dark eyes locked with his, and Chance’s heart bucked hard against his chest, knocking the last of his breath from his lungs. She looked utterly terrified. He tried to smile as she drew near, but just trying to draw air was too much effort.
She stepped beside him, and he rubbed his palms against his slacks.
“It’s the nicest dress I have,” she said, her hushed voice barely reaching his ears.
He managed a slow smile. “You look…” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I don’t even have words…”
The gruffness of his voice brought the burn of tears into Cora’s eyes. He’d never looked at her with such clear emotion. He took both of her hands into his large palms, and all her doubts evaporated.
She was marrying this man.
Cora suddenly found herself impatient for the minister to finish the proceedings. Yet even as she stood there, the warmth of his hands holding hers, a colored sky stretching out behind him…it didn’t seem real. She’d never believed in fairy tales, yet she was quite sure, in this moment, she was living one. He looked so dashing in the dark suit, his golden hair flipped up at the collar.
“Cora Mae?” he whispered, leaning close. He nodded toward the preacher.
“Oh! We’ve started.”
Low chuckles rumbled across the meadow. Reverend Keats stared at her expectantly.
Heat flared in her cheeks as she leaned closer to Chance. “Did he ask me something?” she whispered, hoping no on else could hear.
“Yeah, darlin’. He asked if you’d be my wife, in sickness and health, and—”
“Yes. I will. I do,” she said to the man smiling at them.
“Well then, by the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You can kiss your bride.”
Chance’s arms slid around her, and Cora rose onto the tips of her toes to meet the soft caress of his lips.
The whooping and hollering of their guests crashed through the tranquil moment. Cora stepped back and was instantly surrounded by ranch hands, each nudging the other out of the way to be the first to congratulate the bride.
Chance watched the playful spectacle with a wide smile.
She was his. Even building his ranch hadn’t felt half this good.
“Hot damn!” shouted Duce. He slapped a hand against Chance’s shoulder. “Best wedding I ever been to.”
“Won’t argue with that,” said Mitch. “Let’s eat.”
The sun quickly dropping behind the mountains, everyone began to walk toward the house. Chance held his hand out to Cora Mae. Her smile was the brightest light he’d ever known. As she moved against his side, he wondered why it had taken Winifred’s arrival to make him see what had been there all along.
As they all gathered in the dining room, Chance spotted Garret walking through the front room, his arms loaded down with clothes.
Ah, hell. He hadn’t given a lot of thought to Garret’s reaction to his marrying Cora Mae. Garret hadn’t stuck around with the others to offer any congratulations. Clearly, the kid didn’t see their marriage as worth celebrating.
“Garret?” called Skylar. “What are you doing?”
He glanced toward them, anger etched across his face. “Moving into the bunkhouse.” He walked out of the door and slammed it shut with enough force to rattle the win
dow.
The alarm in Cora Mae’s eyes sent a surge of irritation through Chance. He knew the kid was sweet on her, but that was no reason to upset her on her wedding day.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said, pulling a chair out for her.
She took him by the hand and dragged him into the parlor. She curled her finger, beckoning him to lean in. Chance grinned and leaned toward his little wife. “What?”
“He offered to marry me.”
Surprise stole his grin. “Garret did? When?”
“Just before I left.”
Well, hell. The kid had gumption, and not much else when it came to women. “So, were you tempted?”
“That’s not funny. I feel horrible about hurting his feelings.”
“More like his pride,” Chance muttered. “I tried to warn him.”
“About what?”
“That he wasn’t your type.”
“When did you do that?”
“Yesterday. He tried to stake his claim and told me to back off.”
Her eyes widened. “Off what?”
Chance smiled. “You. I tried to point out that your taste in men wasn’t sixteen-year-old boys.”
“He’s been nothing but sweet to me. He looked so hurt when I declined his offer.”
“You’re his first real crush. He’ll get over it.”
Cora glanced at the door.
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” He drew her hand to her lips. “Let’s go have supper, Mrs. Morgan.”
Her heart fluttered at the title. Mrs. Morgan.
It still didn’t seem real.
Two hours later Cora carried the last of the cake plates to the sink basin as Chance and Tucker saw John out to his wagon. Duce had agreed to accompany the older man home. With everyone having gone to their bunks and Skylar tucking Joshua in upstairs, the house was unnervingly quiet.
“Cora, get away from that wash basin,” Skylar said, coming into the kitchen as she grabbed the dishcloth.
“I’m just cleaning up a bit.”
“No dishes.”
“Can I help you with the girls?”
“Both are fed and sound asleep, for the next few hours, anyway.”
“Thank you, Skylar, for the cake and the flowers. You really helped to make everything so special.”
