Rogues in Texas 03 - Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

Overhearing Mrs. Gurney’s words, Ashton suppressed her smile. Holding onto Kit’s arm as they greeted the guests who arrived at the boardinghouse to celebrate Kit’s marriage to her, she cast her husband a furtive glance. “I didn’t realize you were quite that taken with me.”

  He smiled rakishly. “Trust Mrs. Gurney to embellish the tale a bit.”

  “I think we’ve created a scandal. I’ve never done that before.”

  “Scandals are my stock in trade,” he assured her.

  “As I recall, that’s the reason your father sent you here.”

  “Among other reasons,” he admitted with apparently no shame.

  “I suppose most people know much more about their spouses when they marry than we know of each other,” she said quietly.

  He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles. “I know all I need to know of you, and trust me on this, you know all that you want to know of me.”

  After this evening, she would know little else of him, because tomorrow she would leave with David in order to return to Dallas and the terrifying wait for death. “I was wondering if perhaps we might … correspond … now and again … just a bit of news.”

  “If you like, although I confess my penmanship is as disgraceful as my reputation.”

  She laughed lightly. “Thank you for this evening.”

  “Don’t thank me until it’s over.” He gave a curt nod to some men sitting in a corner, and as one, they lifted their instruments and began to play a tune, sweet and slow. “I believe the first dance is yours.”

  She felt as though a thousand butterflies had suddenly taken up residence within her chest. She took a deep, calming breath. “I’m not very skilled.”

  “I am. Just follow my lead. I once danced with a woman three times my width and not once did we bump into anyone.” As people moved back against the walls, Kit led her into the center of the room. He bowed slightly, bestowing upon her a warm smile, before taking her within his arms, the one place she desperately wanted to be. With movements born of experience, he guided her through the waltz, his eyes mirroring adoration as his gaze held hers.

  “You are good at the pretense,” she said wistfully, now that she owned the dream, wishing that she also possessed the reality.

  “That is why David chose me, is it not?”

  “I’m not complaining. I consider myself fortunate to be your bride.”

  His hand on her waist curled more closely around her as he brought her nearer until she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

  “Then know that this evening, I have given no pretense,” he said quietly. “Our vows were true. You are my bride, and I adore your courage in the face of adversity.”

  “But our vows were to love, honor, and cherish.”

  “Honor and cherish are easily given to you, Ashton. As for love, it comes in many forms. I am certain in your heart of hearts you would have preferred a groom who would have vowed a deeper love than I did, but make no mistake, my vow of love was not false. Can the same be said of yours?”

  Her heart bounced against her ribs as she thought of all the times her mind had drifted to memories of him. “I meant the words I said in the church even though they merely echoed yours.”

  “Then all is well, and this evening you have your dream.”

  She nodded, smiling with gratitude. “And more. When you were in Dallas before, I wanted to dance with you.”

  He furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall dancing with anyone.”

  “You didn’t, but that didn’t stop me from wishing.”

  “Then tonight we shall dance as long as you desire.”

  He swept a path across the floor, and other couples joined them. One of his hands held her waist while the other cupped one of her hands. She felt the roughness and the calluses on his palm that she was certain had not arrived with him from England .

  Since she had seen him last, the sun and wind had carved lines within his face, sculpting his aristocratic features into sharper edges. His manner held the same arrogance she’d noted when he visited in Dallas . Life could turn him into a beggar, yet he would always retain the heritage of a nobleman.

  When the music fell into silence, Kit stopped moving but his hands didn’t leave her, they only brought her closer. In his eyes, for a brief moment, she thought she saw desire, true desire … and her heart raced wildly. But just as quickly it passed, and she wondered if it had been there are at all, or was just wishful thinking.

  The musicians began filling the room with gentle strains from their violins. David approached and bowed slightly. “I can’t let the evening pass without dancing at least once with my sister.”

  Kit released his hold on her. “One dance.” He touched her nose. “I shall return.”

  She watched him walk away before she moved toward David. She had seen him dance numerous times with Madeline, but never had he danced with her.

  “You seem pleased,” she said as he waltzed her around the room.

  “I am. Kit plays the role of adoring groom very well.”

  Her heart lurched at the reminder that it was all a game. She tripped over her own feet, and David caught her, balancing her until they could resume the dance.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That was unthinking of me to remind you—”

  She shook her head quickly. “It doesn’t matter, David. The thought is never far away.” But it had been. For a time while she danced within Kit’s arms, she’d almost forgotten that tonight was only pretense. She glanced over her shoulder, searching for Kit. She wanted him back. For however many dances remained in the evening, she wanted every one to be with him.

  She and David finished the dance in silence. When the music ended, all she wanted to do was find Kit, but Grayson Rhodes approached, then asked permission to dance with her, and she could not deny Kit’s friend so simple a request. She’d seen him dancing with Abbie, so she wasn’t surprised to discover that he was almost as smooth with his steps as Kit was.

  “Harry is not at all pleased that he can no longer dance,” Grayson told her. “So this dance is for him and me.”

  She smiled demurely. “What a good friend you are.”

  “Only because he has been a good friend to me. As has Kit. I don’t recall ever seeing Kit look as content as he does this evening.”

  She felt the heat suffuse her face as she averted her gaze from his.

  “You don’t have to look away, Ashton. I know the reason behind the marriage.”

  She snapped her head back around, her eyes holding his. She hoped Kit returned to her for the next dance. He was the only one who didn’t constantly bring up reminders that tonight was but a dream. Tears burned the back of her eyes. “Does the whole town know?”

  He tilted his head slightly, never missing a step. “That he cares for you? I should think so. It’s rather obvious in the way he looks at you.”

  Overwhelming relief swamped her. He didn’t know the true reason behind the marriage, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. If Kit had managed to fool one of his friends…

  The final strains of the song drifted away. She smiled at Grayson. “Thank you so much.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  She felt a hand come to rest on her waist and glanced up to see Kit standing possessively beside her. “Go dance with your wife, Gray,” he ordered.

  “Ah, jealousy. You wear it well, Kit.” Laughing, Grayson strolled away.

  “Another dance, sweetling?” Kit asked.

  Smiling softly, she nodded. He took her in his arms as the music once again filled the room. “He thinks you care for me,” she told him.

  He looked at her, bewilderment evident in her eyes. “I do … immensely. Never doubt that.”

  The confusion left his gaze, leaving behind what she’d seen all along and failed to recognize: a deep and abiding fondness for her.

  She lost count of the number of dances that filled her evening as more of the townsmen approa
ched her. But she enjoyed most her waltzes with Kit. With him, she felt as though she tripped lightly over billowing clouds. Was that how the trek to heaven would be?

  “You’re tired,” he pointed out.

  She jerked her gaze to Kit’s, shaking her head in denial of the truth.

  “People will begin to talk,” he said quietly. “Most husbands are not this patient when it comes to ending the wedding celebration. I think it is time we retired for the night.”

  Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck.

  “You are all free to enjoy the music and refreshments until dawn,” Kit announced, a wicked gleam in his eyes and a knowing smile on his face, “but now if you will excuse us, my wife and I will continue the celebration in private.”

  Scandalous! The thought reverberated through her mind, but she was too weary to protest. She snuggled her head into the crook of his shoulder and smiled as he carried her up the stairs. A perfect ending to a perfect evening.

  He strode down the hallway, opened the door to her bedroom, stepped through, kicked it shut with his foot, and carried her to the bed. Gently, he laid her down. She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

  “I told you not to thank me until the evening was over,” he reminded her.

  “It’s over now,” she told him, knowing consummation was impossible. Or so David had led her to believe.

  “Someone must prepare you for bed, and it’s obvi ous that I kept you dancing too long. You look like a wilting rose.”

  “I can see to my needs.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “As your husband, so can I.”

  A loud knock sounded on the door before it burst open. David stood in the doorway, legs akimbo, his fists clenched at his side. “What do you think you are doing? I warned you that she is too delicate—”

  “I am doing nothing more than putting her to bed.”

  David stepped into the room. “I can do that. You may leave now.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Kit said. “Tongues will wag enough as it is when my bride leaves on the morrow after one night in my arms. I’ll not have them wagging before the night has ended.”

  Ashton sat up in bed, her hand pressed to her throat. “I hadn’t considered that. The gossip you will endure when we depart—”

  Kit knelt beside the bed and took her hand. “Do not concern yourself with my reputation. It is of no worth.”

  “Then there is no reason for you not to leave now,” David said.

  Kit slowly unfolded his body. “This ruse may have been your idea, but I play by my rules. You will leave this room. I shall prepare my bride for bed, and then I’ll slip out the window.”

  David’s gaze darted between the two of them. “Kit, she is too frail—”

  “I won’t make love to her. You can have a bloody physician examine her in the morning if you want and call me out if she isn’t still a virgin.”

  Ashton watched her brother swallow. “I simply had not envisioned the two of you alone tonight.”

  “Well, rethink your vision and consider the embarrassment that will fall upon her shoulders should her husband be seen leaving this room five moments after he entered.”

  David nodded. “I see your point.”

  “Do I have a say in this matter?” Ashton asked quietly.

  Kit spun around. “Of course you do. Do you want me to leave with David?”

  Holding his gaze, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Then the matter is settled.” He turned to David. “Say goodnight to your sister and wish her pleasant dreams.”

  David crossed the room and kissed her brow as he had ever since she was a child. “He is a good friend, but should he attempt to seduce you—”

  “He is my husband.”

  David straightened and met Kit’s gaze. “Will you be at breakfast?”

  “Of course. What attentive husband would leave his wife to dine alone after their first night in ecstasy?”

  David held up a finger. “Bride and groom. You are not to advance to husband and wife.”

  “Don’t challenge me, David. You won’t like the stone wall I can become.”

  “Gentlemen, I grow weary of this arguing and you are ruining my perfect evening.”

  David gave a brusque nod. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Holler if you need me.” He cast a glance at Kit. “Take care climbing out the window.”

  David stalked across the room and closed the door in his wake.

  “He means well,” Ashton said softly.

  Kit turned to her. “Protectiveness is not always a good thing. Imagine if a mother bird never shoved her babies out of the nest. The trees would lack song and the sky would never know the graceful fancy of flight.”

  “Nor would a lady’s hat ever be decorated with feathers.”

  Laughing, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s prepare you for bed, sweetling. You do look tired.”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her slightly so her back was to him and began to unfasten the row of buttons that ran from the high collar of her dress to her waist. His movements were slow, but not awkward, as though he relished the task. “You’ve done this often,” she mused.

  “A man’s past is best not discussed on his wedding night.”

  The cool air tingled along her flesh as the material parted. She felt the softness of his lips press against the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes and relished the warmth of his breath and the gentleness of his kiss. So reminiscent of the one he’d given her following the ceremony. A brief touching of lips … as shallow as the vows they had exchanged.

  “Do you remember the kiss I gave you in the church?” he asked as he slipped the gown from her shoulders and trailed his mouth along her collarbone. He dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat.

  A shiver shimmied along her spine, and she had an incredible urge to lean into him. She swallowed hard. “I remember.”

  The room grew hot. Had August arrived without her knowledge?

  “It was not the kiss I wished to bestow upon you, but the one I promised David I would give you.” He cupped her face between his palms as one would hold a precious crystal sculpture. A smile teased his lips. “I have not given a chaste kiss such as that since I was twelve.”

  Her breath caught while her heart pounded painfully within her chest. “Indeed. What sort of kiss had you wished to bestow upon me?”

  “It lies beyond the description of words.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as he lowered his mouth to hers. She had always imagined a man’s lips to be hard, his mouth demanding—perhaps because she had spent her life listening to her father and brother issue orders. Kit’s lips were incredibly soft, but not in the same manner as hers, because beyond the softness she detected the strength, the power to wield without force in order to gain victory. His lips parted, and his tongue traced the outline of her mouth as though to memorize each dip and curve. With a sigh, she pressed her hands to his chest and felt the hard, rhythmic pounding of his heart while his tongue deepened his exploration until she no longer knew where his mouth began and hers ended—until she no longer cared.

  He bestowed upon her a gentle patience that put her own forbearance to the test. She wanted more. Her hands crept up his chest, and she looped her arms around his neck. With a feral groan, he pressed her body flush against his and the kiss deepened, intensified until it drew the very breath from her chest, the strength from her legs. With one arm, he held her steady, while his mouth tortured her with ecstasy.

  Slowly, tenderly, he pulled back, brushing his tongue across her tingling, swollen lips in a bittersweet farewell. His breathing was as shallow as hers was, and she saw sweat glistening along his throat.

  “Perhaps you’d best finish dressing for bed,” he rasped.

  She nodded mutely and stepped away from him.

  “Ashton?”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “I
would appreciate the honor of brushing your hair before you braid it.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Montgomery, do you brush hair with the same exuberance that you kiss?”

  He offered her a devilish smile that was matched by the wickedness reflected in his eyes. “I think we are beyond such formalities, Ashton. You may call me Kit.”

  It was not until she was hidden safely behind the screen and changing into her nightgown that she realized he had avoided answering her question.

  *

  CHAPTER 7

  « ^ »

  K it loosened his cravat and wondered what in God’s name he thought he was doing. He should have clambered out the window long before he ever bestowed a true kiss upon his false wife. Ashton was like a shadow that could only appear in the presence of light and was doomed to nonexistence with the arrival of darkness. And for her, the darkness would arrive far too soon.

  Thank God, he would not have to bear witness to it. She stepped from behind the screen. In her nightgown, with a solitary lamp providing a pale glow, she appeared incredibly thin. Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized her delicate frame. Blushing, she crossed her arms over her chest before scurrying to the mirrored dresser. She sat, grabbed her brush, parted her hair down the middle, and draped it over each shoulder.

  “You pad your clothing,” he stated, both dumb-founded and amused by the discovery. “It was too dark to notice the other night when we were on the roof.”

  “It’s not an uncommon practice among women,” she announced, tilting her chin with her gaze riveted on her reflection.

  “But it gives a man a false impression.”

  “Then he deserves what he gets on his wedding night if he never looks beyond the physical aspects of his betrothed.”

  Kit laughed as he crossed the room. “You play a dangerous game, sweetling. Why pad yourself if you never had any hope of capturing a man’s attention?”

  She stilled and dropped her gaze to the brush in her hand. “Because I have some pride.”

  Kneeling, he placed his hand over hers, his fingers circling the brush. “You promised me the honor of brushing your hair.”

  “You should leave before you discover all my faults.”