Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  Clem slapped his knee in glee and shouted "Hot damn!" while Flo grabbed Jess and gave her a hug that threatened to crush her ribs.

  Riley waited his turn to enfold her in a loving embrace.

  There were tears in his eyes when he held her away. "I just want you to be happy, Jess."

  "I know," she said with a watery laugh. "And I will be. Garrett says he loves me."

  He nodded in satisfaction. "Are you going to ask Burke to the wedding?"

  "You wouldn't mind?"

  "No . . . not if I get to give you away."

  "Of course you do," Jess said, startled that Riley could possibly think she would consider any other alternative. "Burke can be a witness, if he likes."' She glanced up at her future husband. "Is that okay with you?" she asked un­certainly.

  His lips curving in an impatient smile, Devlin slipped a possessive arm about her waist. "Anything you want, angel—as long as you make it happen within the next half hour. I won't vouch for my control any longer than that. If you aren't my wife in the next thirty minutes, I'll just have to carry you off."

  "Then I guess," Jessica said with a pleased smile of her own, "we'd better go find that Justice of the Peace."

  Chapter 23

  Jessica made a beautiful bride, even with her gown be­draggled and soot-stained. She carried a bouquet of white hothouse roses which Ashton Burke had insisted on having fetched from Georgetown. Around her shoulders she wore her mantle of green velvet that she'd left at his home. Her tawny hair, smoothed and rearranged into its previous elegant coiffure by Flo's motherly fingers, gleamed golden in the early-morning sunshine. Her com­plexion, scrubbed virginally clean in the privacy of Doc Wheeler's office, held a radiance that only a woman in love could exhibit.

  Devlin made a magnificent groom, or so all the ladies thought. His formal black tailcoat enhanced his dark, stun­ning looks and leanly muscled physique, and hid most of the grime on his white shirt and waistcoat, which were blackened beyond salvage. The disreputable stubble shad­owing his jaw lent him an edge of danger that was highly potent, while his expression held the unmistakable possessiveness that a man in love showed toward the woman he had claimed for his bride. Married and unmarried females alike sighed with envy, while the mothers present warned their innocent daughters to quit gawking.

  The ceremony took place in the middle of Main Street, surrounded by the majesty of the Rockies, with a cool blue Colorado sky providing a canopy overhead. Half the occu­pants of Silver Plume looked on, most of them grateful at finding some joy in the midst of disaster. Both of Jessica's proud fathers watched the proceedings with their hearts in their eyes, going so far as to slap each other on the back when the justice pronounced the couple married and said, "Yea may kiss the bride."

  Those were the words Devlin had been waiting for, for what seemed like a lifetime. "Finally," he murmured.

  He took Jess in his arms, gazing down at her with a powerful tenderness he couldn't possibly hide. He'd re­turned to Colorado more than a month ago with every in­tention of making Jessica his wife. She wasn't the kind of woman, however, to meekly fall in with plans not of her own making. In fact, she was just stubborn enough to de­liberately overset his ambitions on general principle—and determined enough to hold on to her convictions, even if it meant losing the things she held dear. Oddly enough, though, that was one of the things Devlin loved most about her. That she had principles she fiercely believed in, principles that meant more to her than wealth or power or comfort, even more than love. It was his misfortune that Jess also had a blind spot a mile wide. Until she'd sorted out her feelings for him, all he'd been able to do was wait . . . and pace . . . and pull out his hair . . . and pray.

  Now, it was all over. Now, with the delay and uncer­tainty at an end, he could breathe again.

  "You gonna kiss her or what?" Clem complained, inter­rupting his reflections.

  Devlin grinned and obediently bent his head to seal their vows. He felt Jess's mouth warm and trembling under his own. It was all he could do to force himself to pull back and turn her over to her family and friends for their con­gratulations.

  The celebration afterward was more elaborate than Dev­lin could find patience for. Burke had sent to Georgetown for several dozen cases of champagne, and ordered beer all around from a nearby saloon that was still standing, so the gathering turned into a holiday, with the town commem­orating not only the marriage of one of its own, but the victory over the fire and the new future of Silver Plume, which would be rebuilt out of the ashes.

  Devlin cursed under his breath when someone brought out a fiddle and the crowd spontaneously began dancing in the street. He watched jealously as a laughing and radiant Jess was passed from miner to miner—some of whom had known her since childhood—for a whirl. And yet he clamped down on his urge to tear her away from their good-natured embraces. In his haste to tie Jessica to him, he hadn't allowed her the kind of wedding most young women dreamed of. The least he could do was let her en­joy this moment.

  It was nearly an hour later before he managed to get close enough to slip an arm around her waist. Jess, looking up at her new husband, felt her heart catch at the bright, warm light moving in his eyes.

  "If you're sorry we couldn't manage a church wed­ding," Devlin said in her ear, "we can do this again prop­erly in a week or two."

  Smiling joyfully, Jess shook her head. "I'm not in the least sorry. This is much better than a stuffy ceremony in a church."

  Devlin's guilt faded. "At least we'll have something to tell our grandchildren. . . . We were married the day Silver Plume burned down."

  At his reference to grandchildren, a warm glow kindled inside her. "I never figured you would want a family."

  "I expect there are still some things you don't know about me, angel"—his mouth curved seductively—"but I intend to take great pleasure helping you find out."

  "You really want children? You told me once that you didn't."

  "Only because I never found the right woman until now."

  Jess's amber eyes still held a hint of uncertainty as she gazed up at him. "Oh, Garrett, are you sure I'm the right woman for you?"

  "Damn sure. I'll show you just how right if I ever get you alone. Do you think we could make our excuses and get out of here? We still have a marriage to consummate."

  Jess blushed and nodded mutely, excitement and shiver­ing anticipation making her limbs suddenly weak.

  They made their farewells amid a chorus of bawdy comments and good wishes. Jess hugged everyone, Burke included, Riley the hardest of all, and finally allowed Dev­lin to help her into the closed carriage.

  When he had joined her, though, Flo poked her head in­side. "I'll send some of your things down to the hotel, Jess."

  "Fine," Devlin answered for his wife, "but that's all we need anyone to do for us. I don't care if the rest of the town burns down. Don't bother us for a week."

  Flo grinned broadly and winked at a blushing Jess. "Lordy, that gorgeous fella is a man after my own heart."

  Returning the widow's grin, Devlin pulled the door shut, determined to whisk his bride away before anyone else could corner her. He rapped firmly on the roof, signaling the driver to leave, and draped an arm around Jess's shoul­ders, pulling her into the curve of his body as the vehicle lurched forward.

  After the noise of the crowd, the quiet within the car­riage seemed almost intimidating to Jess. Weariness and tension suddenly assaulting her, she lay her head gratefully against Devlin's shoulder. She felt light-headed from lack of sleep and filled with fear. A fear different from the kind she'd endured during the fire, but just as intense. She was petrified that she wouldn't live up to Devlin's expectations as either wife or lover.

  He must have sensed something was wrong, though, for his lips brushed her hair in a comforting kiss. "You okay, angel?"

  "No," Jess answered truthfully. "I'm so nervous I'm shaking."

  "Why are you nervous?"

  "I guess because I've never ha
d a husband before."

  "That's understandable. I'm a touch nervous myself.

  "You?" She sounded skeptical.

  "I've never had a wife before, either." His tone held an undertone of teasing laughter. "I think I could grow to like it."

  "You really are nervous?"

  "I wouldn't lie to you, Jess," he said more seriously. "I hope you finally realize that."

  "I do."

  "Good." Grasping her hand, he linked their fingers to­gether, creating a physical bond. "Yes, I really am ner­vous. Getting married isn't a responsibility a man can take lightly. Nor is losing his bachelorhood. But this is nothing compared to what I went through the past month. It scared the devil out of me, waiting for you to decide whether I was worthy of you or not. I spent the entire time pacing the floor and wondering if you loved me enough to come to me. I had hoped . . . prayed . . ." Entirely serious now, he put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up to his, and gazed at her solemnly. "I knew what I wanted was you, Jess. I didn't know, though, if you wanted me."

  "Oh, Garrett, I did want you, I do . . . more than any­thing. I love you so much. . . . I just couldn't believe you could ever love me. I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

  "Believe it, angel."

  "Tell me again, Garrett, please?"

  "I love you, sweetheart, never doubt it. I love you, I love you, I love you. . . ."

  His whispered endearments broke off as his lips came down on hers hungrily. Jess responded with heartfelt ea­gerness, twining her fingers in his hair and opening to his thrusting, searching tongue. The heat that rose between them was suddenly scalding in its intensity. The small whimper of longing that Jess made deep in her throat was echoed in the primitive groan Devlin gave before he ab­ruptly held her away and inhaled a harsh breath.

  "Lord, woman, what you do to me. . . . But I'm not go­ing to start our marriage by taking you on a hard carriage seat."

  "I wouldn't mind," Jess said shyly, not daring to meet his hot eyes.

  His husky chuckle rasped against her temple. "That's one of the things I love most about you. But I have some­thing much more comfortable in mind."

  They shared a state of half painful, half delicious sexual arousal until the carriage drew to a halt before the Hotel de Paris. Then Jess, on her best behavior, made a great show of allowing Devlin to help her down from the carriage, offering her hand to him regally, in her most formal finish­ing school manner.

  When Devlin raised a quizzical eyebrow, Jess com­mented pointedly, "I know how to be feminine when I want to be."

  "I think you should forget I ever said that."

  "How can I forget? You've told me often I enough I don't know how to be a normal woman."

  His smile was pure sensuality. "Well, I was wrong. You've always been an armful of woman, Miss Jess, al­most more woman than I can handle."

  He wouldn't take her hand, though. Instead he slipped one arm around her waist, the other behind her knees, and scooped her into his arms, making Jess gasp.

  "Tradition," Devlin teased, and carried her over the threshold of the hotel's front door.

  The proprietor came to greet them at once, his mouth creased in a welcoming smile. He didn't appear to be at all surprised or alarmed to see a young lady being carried into his hotel.

  "All ready, Louis?"

  "Indeed, Monsieur Devlin. Everything is as you or­dered. Shall I aid you and madame?"

  "Thank you, no, we can manage. Would you see that no one disturbs us?"

  "But of course, m'sieur. And may I wish you and mad­ame every happiness?"

  Devlin responded with a satisfied smile. "You certainly may."

  Without further ceremony, he carried his bride past the registration desk, through a wide door, down a hall, and up a flight of stairs. Jess, with her arms around his neck, peered up at Devlin. "What did he mean, everything is ready?"

  "I rented the floor for a week so we wouldn't have to contend with any other guests."

  "The entire floor?" Jess echoed, aghast.

  "You object to my being alone with you?"

  "No. . . . Only, it's so decadent."

  "Not decadent. Smart. I intend to have you all to myself for a while."

  He paused before a door marked "12," and asked Jess to open it. She did, and as he carried her inside, she glanced around curiously. The spacious room was as elegantly dec­orated as the floor below, with a large walnut-framed bed and matching rockers of the same gleaming dark wood. The Wilton-weave carpet boasted a rose pattern, while white lace curtains adorned the windows. On the bureau sat a silver tray loaded with covered dishes, and a bottle of wine had been left to cool in a silver bucket.

  To Jess's surprise, a large copper tub stood in the far corner. It didn't appear to be part of the usual decor, and there was steam rising from the water. Obviously, their ar­rival had been expected and every effort made to ensure their comfort.

  "How did you possibly have time to arrange all this?" Jess asked in awe.

  "I planned it long before this. I only had to send Louis a message this morning, and he took care of the rest. We can honeymoon in a real Paris hotel later, if you like, but this will have to do for now."

  "Do? Garrett, this is more than enough." Shaking her head, Jess gave him a concerned glance. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble for me."

  "But I wanted to, angel. You deserve to be pampered a little."

  "A little? This is a lot to me. This is heaven."

  Devlin gazed down at her with a wicked grin. "Not yet, but I promise it will be."

  He set Jess on her feet, facing him, but kept his arms wrapped around her waist. "The way I see it, Mrs. Devlin, you have four choices of what to do first . . . eat, sleep, bathe, or make love. Which do you favor?"

  The warm light in his eyes left no doubt as to which choice he would prefer. Jess felt a knot of pure excitement curl in the pit of her stomach.

  "Well . . . I know what I'd like to do first, but I suppose it would be wiser to take a bath. My clothes and hair still reek of smoke."

  "True," Devlin said agreeably. He rubbed his whiskered jaw. "And I should shave if you don't want to be scraped raw by tomorrow morning. Fortunately, bathing and mak­ing love aren't mutually exclusive."

  "You mean at the same time?" The shock in her tone made him chuckle, a low, rich sound of pleasure.

  "Exactly, angel. I intend to give you a bath you won't forget."

  The vivid color that rose to his young bride's cheeks charmed him. Determined not to let it fade, Devlin reached for the ribbon ties of her mantle. "Why don't we start by getting undressed? I have yet to see you entirely without clothes."

  Her breathing suddenly growing shallow, Jess could only gaze mutely at him. He drew her wrap off her shoul­ders and tossed it haphazardly on the floor near the door. Then he began removing her numerous hairpins one by one. When her mane of honey-gold hair at last came tum­bling down about her shoulders, Devlin threaded his fin­gers reverently through the thick mass and gave Jess a tantalizing, all-too-brief kiss.

  Her other garments came next. He took a long while, though, pausing to place a kiss on each inch of flesh he exposed. Becoming impatient with his tormenting slow­ness, Jess tried to help, but Devlin stopped her. "This is my pleasure," he stated firmly.

  Finally, though, only her shift remained. Slowly he tugged on the straps. Her bodice fell away and her bare, trembling breasts spilled out.

  Devlin audibly sucked in his breath.

  The room wasn't at all chilly, warmed as it was by the hotel's central furnace, and yet Jess shivered as eyes of heated gray roamed over her, touching her intimately, their admiration unmistakable. She felt alive and radiantly female—and very much wanted.

  To her surprise—and regret—all he did was look. And when he removed the undergarment entirely and she fi­nally stood shyly naked before him, he merely lifted her in his arms and carried her to the tub, lowering her carefully into the hot water.

  Her regret fadi
ng, Jess gave a sigh of pure unadulterated pleasure. "This really is heaven," she murmured, which brought an indulgent chuckle from her husband.

  "It doesn't take much to please you."

  Scooping up a handful of bath salts from the jar that sat beside the tub, he sprinkled the crystals over the water, then swirled it with his fingers. Jess leaned her head back and closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of the silky wa­ter, feeling her tiredness seep away. "I could get addicted to this."

  "Good," Devlin replied, straightening and turning away.

  She kept her eyes shut while Devlin popped the cork on the bottle of champagne, only opening them again when he handed her a full glass and a plate of flaky croissants filed with thin slices of ham and dripping with melted cheese. He fed her a bite, then took one himself, before stepping back to remove his own clothing.

  "This is so decadent," she repeated lazily, letting the bubbly wine roll around on her tongue.

  His mouth lifted on an indolent grin as he pulled off his soot-streaked shirt. "If I have my way, you'll learn to fully enjoy decadence, Mrs. Devlin."

  Mrs. Devlin. Devlin's wife. She still wasn't sure she could believe it. After all the accusations she'd made against him, after all the times she'd mistrusted him and doubted him, he still professed to love her. She'd never imagined she would be lucky enough to win the love of a man like him. It was impossible, but somehow she'd done it. She'd caught her own unreachable wild star.

  Fully aware of her good fortune, she glanced over at him. Devlin had stripped off his clothing and was standing at the washstand, lathering his stubbled jaw, his right side toward her.

  She tried not to stare, but the display of rippling mus­cles in his arms and shoulders held her gaze like a magnet. He stood there, entirely naked, in broad daylight, without the least sign of self-consciousness or embarrassment-just like the first time she had seen him, his naked torso framed by his hotel window. But this time she had a right to watch.

  Heat rising to her cheeks, she took in the beauty of the man who was now her husband . . . the hard, sleek body, the potent masculinity. He was her dream lover, handsome, magnificent.