“Are you sure?” she whispered as Dillon fixed his eyes on her again.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to marry Sam anyway. I’ve made a mess of things, Grace. But he won’t love you like I do. No one can.”
He took a step toward her, and Grace let the bouquet she held slip from her fingers and fall to the floor. Sam released her, and she turned her face up to him.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said softly. “But I would have made you miserable.”
He had a resigned expression on his face, but there was no shock there, no real pain, and Grace remembered that he had never loved her, had never professed to love her. Their planned marriage had been as much a business deal for him as it had been for her.
She gave him a small smile. “Wait for love, Sam. You’ll know when it hits you. It’s like a thunderbolt that knocks you off your feet and leaves you winded and aching and glad to be alive.”
Sam gave her a cynical smile. “I do like you, Grace,” he whispered. “I thought that would be enough. But if this is what you want…”
Dillon reached out his hand, and she took it, allowing him to pull her away from the altar.
“It is, Sam,” she said with a grin.
Before Dillon and Grace could proceed down the aisle, the passageway was blocked by three large bodies. Plummer, in the front, and toward the middle of the aisle Abigail’s father and her brother Wade. Fortunately they didn’t wear weapons, but their stances made it clear that Dillon was going to have to fight his way out.
And then Billy stood, drawing a six-shooter that had been concealed under his coat. Almost simultaneously Renzo stood. With a flick of his wrist a derringer appeared in his hand.
The minister was sputtering, terrified at the very idea of bloodshed in his church.
But when Billy spoke, his voice was calm and authoritative. “You’d best let the boss and Miss Grace leave peaceful-like.” He had his gun trained on Plummer, and Renzo was aiming at the Wilkinsons. Abigail was seated at his side, tugging at his coattails.
“Lorenzo, please!” she hissed.
“Quiet, querida,” he ordered softly. “We will discuss this later.”
Abigail obediently released his coat and folded her hands in her lap. Now it was she who had the Wilkinsons’ attention, as they turned away from Dillon and Grace.
“Abigail Wilkinson,” her father said, seething. “What is the meaning of this?” He looked at the armed bandit turned merchant, and then back to his daughter.
That left Plummer, and Sam brushed past Grace to confront his father. “Let them go,” he said quietly, but with an authority in his voice that obviously shocked his father.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”
Sam took his father’s arm and forcibly moved him aside so Dillon and Grace could pass. Dillon held her hand and pulled her along the aisle, as if he were anxious to escape into the sunlight.
Grace paused beside Abigail and Renzo as they faced the Wilkinson family. Renzo gave her a shrug and a crooked smile before Dillon tired of waiting for her and lifted her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way down the aisle.
Outside, with the sun beating down on their heads and a hot breeze against their faces, Dillon set Grace on her feet and placed one hand against her cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“That depends,” Grace said evenly, laying her hand over his. “Did you mean what you said in there?”
“Every word.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He lifted her feet off the ground and crushed her against his chest. “So much I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Even if I don’t have anything to offer you but that love. That’s selfish of me, I know. I can’t—”
Grace laid a finger over his lips. “I love you, Becket. No matter what happens, we’ll find a way.”
Dillon kissed her tenderly, his lips pressed almost hesitantly against hers, and then he set her on her feet before he spun around and stalked back to the church door.
“Plummer, you son of a bitch! I’ve got two weeks left!” he shouted through the open door. “If I see your hide near the Double B before then I’ll skin it, tan it, and use it as a saddle blanket!”
When he turned back to Grace he had a wide smile on his face.
“Let’s go home.”
The moonwashed room was twice as big as her old room, this master chamber where Renzo had stayed when he’d been Dillon’s guest. This was where Dillon had carried her, upon arriving back at the Double B. He’d held her in front of him all the way home, and had said barely two words. But he’d lowered his lips to her neck frequently.
He was sleeping beside her as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Once he had made up his mind, it seemed he really didn’t mind losing the Double B, after all.
But she minded for him. She wanted him to have everything he wanted.
She reached out and touched his hair, trailing her fingers through the chestnut strands. She wanted to touch him all the time, to feel his hands on her, and his lips on hers, and to feel him deep inside her.
With a low moan Dillon rolled to his side and pulled her against his chest. Her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his muscled torso, and she buried her nose against his throat. She loved the smell of him, the taste of his skin, and she ever so lightly touched the tip of her tongue to the skin at the base of his throat.
“Are you asleep?” she whispered.
“Not anymore,” he growled, dragging her body across his until her mouth was against anxious lips. His tongue flicked across hers, and then delved deeper into her mouth, loving her, driving her wild with wanting him. The pulsations deep within her pounded to an ever increasing primal beat. Growing with every breath she took, every caress of his lips and his hands, they made her forget that a world existed beyond the bed they lay in, that time continued to move on.
He rolled her onto her back and continued his tender assault, caressing her breasts with gentle hands, moving his mouth to those nipples and suckling until she thought she would scream.
When he placed his fingers between her legs and teased her with a promise of what was to come as he locked his lips to her breast, she arched her back and pleaded with him.
“Please, Becket,” she whispered harshly.
Dillon lifted his head from her breast and moved his lips to kiss her tenderly as his fingers continued to play.
“Please, Dillon,” he whispered into her mouth. “Please, Dillon,” he repeated. “Say it, Grace.” Between each word he kissed her lightly.
“Please, Dillon,” she whispered.
He rolled on top of her, keeping his weight on his forearms. She cried out softly when he entered her, sheathing himself in one powerful thrust.
He filled her, loved her, whispered low words into her ear. Grace couldn’t help but whisper his name as the powerful pulsations increased until she erupted under Dillon’s tender assault.
Dillon’s own completion came with hers, with a whisper of her name and a final thrust. His pleasure and his seed, his love and his sacrifice.
“I love you, Dillon,” she breathed against his neck, so softly she didn’t think he would hear her.
But he did.
“I love you, too, Grace.” He gathered her into his arms with a tenderness that surprised her. He could be so unyielding one minute, so gentle the next.
Dillon rolled onto his back, keeping Grace in his arms so that she rested against his chest. Smiling, she gazed into his eyes. “Don’t you like it when I call you Becket?”
He scowled at her playfully. “Before too much longer I’ll be able to call you Becket, myself. Might get too confusing.”
As far as marriage proposals went, it was rather odd, but she smiled and kissed him in response.
“What do you think about that?” he asked. “Becket.” He spat the name out harshly, as she often had, and pressed her head against his broad ches
t.
“I had no idea you were so sensitive,” Grace said softly, her lips against his skin.
“From now on, whenever you call me Becket…you know exactly what’s going to happen.”
Grace lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. “The kind of punishment I just received?”
Dillon nodded solemnly.
“Well,” she drawled wickedly, giving him her best attempt at a Texas accent. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
Once his decision had been made, Dillon seemed to have no reservations about leaving the Double B behind. They discussed their options. Where to go: north, east, or west. His only demand was that they be married in the house before Plummer took over.
Grace found him in the study, poring over the books and the invoices on his desk. When he saw her he pushed them aside and smiled. She loved that smile, so rare and so perfect.
But she knew, as she’d just seen him bending over the papers on his desk with a frown on his face, that he still dreaded the thought of leaving it all behind.
“Are you sure?” she asked without preamble, sitting in his lap as he scooted his chair away from the desk.
She didn’t need to be more specific. Dillon snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, burying his head against her neck.
“Sit in my lap and ask me if I’m sure,” he mumbled, his breath warm against her skin. “What kind of answer do you expect?”
Grace trailed her fingers through his hair. His voice was almost lighthearted, with a touch of humor as rare as his smile. “Is there no other way?”
Dillon grunted and kissed her neck, trying to change the subject. “I’ve paid off everyone else. All the debts are clear but the one to Plummer. Hell, five thousand or five million…ain’t got it, honey. Have you decided where you want to go?”
“Five thousand dollars?” Grace asked. “Is that all?”
Dillon pulled away from her. “Is that all?” he repeated. “Isn’t that enough?” His fingers played up and down her side. “Actually, with what I’ve got left, I need five thousand one hundred and twenty-one dollars.”
“I could sell my jewelry.”
Dillon quieted her with a kiss. “Those geegaws of yours can’t be worth that much, honey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you.”
“I know that, but—”
Dillon hushed her as he had before, with his lips on hers. He didn’t even want to discuss it with her.
Grace relaxed and melted in his arms, but she didn’t forget. Dillon had no idea how much some of her geegaws were worth…but it might be difficult to get that much for them on such short notice. And she didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have her plan fail. Even as he kissed her and his fingers danced against her neck, Grace formulated a plan—until he made her forget everything.
They were in the back room of Renzo’s store, The Jewel, and Grace held up the serpent pin Mikhail had given her. She pointed out to Renzo the quality of the gems, the handiwork, and the originality of the piece. She did the same with every piece in the box…including the silver bracelet he had given her.
He was skeptical and made no bones about it.
“There is not much time.”
“They’re worth a lot more than five thousand dollars,” Grace snapped. “A lot more.”
“I could take them to San Antonio,” Renzo muttered uncertainly. “Perhaps there—”
“Fine. Just remember, I need five thousand one hundred and twenty-one dollars, not a penny less. And I must have it by the end of the week.”
Renzo raised his eyebrows. “I hate to leave my little jewel, even for a few days.”
“Her father has forbidden her to see you.”
Renzo’s smile was wicked and assured. “Sí. But no words can keep us apart. At night I climb into her window,” he revealed, “and make love to her until—”
“Renzo!” Grace interrupted sharply, but she couldn’t be angry with him. “You shouldn’t be telling me such things.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “One night I will convince her to run away with me. So when you hear that my little jewel has disappeared, don’t be alarmed.”
Grace had a hard time picturing Abigail Wilkinson running off in the night with Renzo, or anyone else, for that matter. But then again, she also had a devil of a time picturing Abigail admitting Renzo into her bedroom late at night.
Renzo sighed deeply. “I cannot refuse you anything, amiga. You have made it possible for my dreams to come true.” He took her hand and bent to kiss it. “If not for you, Abigail never would have looked at me twice, and she would certainly never have admitted me into her heart.”
“Thank you, Renzo,” Grace said, smiling down at his black head that was still bent over her hand. He remained there for a few seconds, and when he lifted his head he was grinning devilishly.
“I told your Becket on the day we met that you were his greatest treasure. I was speaking of your beauty, which is unrivaled in all the world. But today I know that what I said was a certain truth, and it has nothing to do with your face or your graceful body or your silken hair. You are the treasure of his heart and soul, and he is a most fortunate man.”
“Renzo,” Grace said as she placed the box of jewels in his hands. “That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble one day.”
Renzo winked at her, his black eyes flashing merrily. “Perhaps, but not on a day when I speak the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Well?” Dillon snapped at Olivia as the wide-hipped woman hurried down the stairs.
“She says she needs a little more time with her hair,” Olivia explained as if she understood perfectly.
Dillon groaned. “The minister has been waiting for over an hour,” he said as Olivia planted her feet at the bottom of the staircase, a formidable guard. “I don’t care what her hair looks like. I don’t care what she wears.” His voice rose gradually until he lifted his head and shouted at the top of his lungs. “She could wear a flour sack, and she’d still be perfect!”
Olivia patted his arm and tried to pull him away from the stairs. “I’m sure she heard you, and half the county probably heard you as well. Be patient. Don’t worry, she’s not going to change her mind.”
Dillon looked down at the woman, trying his best to appear calm. “I’m not worried. I just want to get this over with.”
This was to be his last day in the home he’d been raised in. His last day on the Double B. The deadline on the loan was close of business today, and Grace had decided to have the wedding at the last minute. He’d tried to hurry the wedding along, but she had been stubborn, insisting that they wait. And she’d refused to give him a reason for the delay.
Of course he wasn’t worried. She wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute. Would she?
He slipped past Olivia and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time and placing himself at the master bedroom door. Their bedroom for the past two weeks, though Grace had insisted that he sleep in his own room last night. Some superstitious nonsense.
“Grace!” he called as he pounded on the door. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.”
“Don’t come in,” she said nervously, the strain of the day in her voice.
“I won’t. There’s no lock on this door. I could have come right in, but I didn’t.” Dillon tried his best to reason with her. “It’s just that Billy’s getting a little anxious, and so is the minister.”
There was a pause before she spoke. “Is Renzo here yet?”
Dammit, she’d asked about that low-down thieving Mexican bandit a thousand times since that morning. “No! What difference does it make? We don’t need that bandit here to get married.”
“But…but he has your wedding present.”
Damned if he didn’t hear a little hesitation in her voice. He wanted so badly to open that door….
“I don’t care about any wedding present. I don’t want a wedding present. I want to get married…now!”
He knew
he’d been too harsh when Grace didn’t answer at all.
“I’m sorry, honey.” Dillon laid his hand against the door. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
Grace went to the door and dropped her forehead softly against the hard wood. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind,” she said softly. “I love you, Dillon. Can’t we give Renzo another half hour?”
On the opposite side of the door, Dillon groaned. “All right,” he finally agreed. “A half hour. But I swear, Grace, if you don’t come down in half an hour, I’m coming in to get you.”
“No!” Grace raised her head away from the door. “You can’t see me until I come down the stairs. It would be bad luck.”
He didn’t say anything, but she knew he was still there. “All right,” he finally muttered. “Half an hour, Grace.”
Grace looked out of the window again. It faced the front of the house, so she would certainly be able to see Renzo approaching. Where the devil was he? Had it been completely stupid of her to give those jewels to a former thief? She had been so certain Renzo had changed, for good, but maybe it had been too much of a temptation for him. At least she hadn’t told Dillon what she’d done, so he wouldn’t be disappointed. But he would find out, sooner or later, that her jewels were gone, and then she would have to tell him the truth. Blast it all, he had never liked Renzo.
She wanted so much to be able to do this for Dillon. She wanted so badly to be able to save the ranch for him. But if her plans failed, if they were truly left with nothing, they would still be married. They would still be together, and that was all that really mattered.
Grace ran to the window at the sound of thundering hooves. The dark figure approaching the house had to be Renzo. It had to be! A moment later she was certain it was true. There was no mistaking that confident bearing, even from a distance. When he stopped in front of the house Grace ran to the door, opened it a crack, and shouted for Olivia to show Renzo up.
“I’ll be damned….” She heard Dillon’s voice rising above the rest as Olivia attempted to show Renzo to Grace’s room. She could hear footsteps on the stairs, muffled and many, and she placed her face in the narrowly opened door.
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