Saddened, she closed her eyes, silently admitting she couldn’t be married to him. She had nothing to offer a man of his caliber. Reverend Mitchell told her so, more than once. He also said it wasn’t Christian to think of what she wanted, her happiness. He proclaimed her Christian duty was to help with the needs of the church, help those who couldn’t help themselves.
Why? She asked herself. Why had she said yes?
A loud click vibrated the room. She glanced up in time to watch Colt break open her shotgun. The brows above his cornflower-blue eyes arched as the empty cylinders of both chambers were revealed.
A sparkle not unlike the sun shining on freshly washed windows glowed in his eyes as his gaze met hers. Annalee stifled a moan and her shoulders slumped. She’d dreamed about this day for years, as had most every other woman in Dodge, of becoming Mrs. Colt Severson. In her dreams it had been possible, because love brought them together, not stolen cattle. Her heart started flapping around like a fish out of water. Well, actually it had been behaving in such a way ever since he’d arrived at her house this morning, but all of sudden it beat harder, pounding against the inside walls erratically.
The wave of dark hair falling across his forehead fluttered as he cocked his head to one side, clearly, silently, waiting for her to respond to his findings.
She found an ounce of courage, enough to speak. The thought of lying didn’t have a chance to enter her mind. “I couldn’t find any shells. Pa must have taken them all.”
“That, my dear, was a very stupid thing to do.”
Anger, close to what she’d felt when learning he’d taken himself off to the Broken Spoke shortly after they’d cut their wedding cake, rose up her spine. “Stupid! How dare you—”
“Oh, I dare,” he interrupted, leaning the gun against the table near the window. “Yes, stupid,” he repeated. “And dangerous.” His blue eyes held an annoyed squint as he slowly walked toward her. “Don’t ever draw a gun on a man unless you’re fully prepared to shoot him.”
“I—” she started, but stopped. She had no intention of shooting him, never had. The image of him dancing or making friends with one of dance hall gals had been what sent her marching down the street with the gun. If he thought he could wed her one minute and then carry on as if he was still single the next, he had another think coming. Her ire rose again, and just like back at the saloon the first words she blurted out were “Where is my father?”
He’d stopped directly in front of her. His hands settled on her shoulders. “First, you must promise you’ll never, ever, take a gun into a saloon again.” His face softened, revealing he was the most handsome man ever created. “Please, Annalee, promise me you won’t do that again.”
Whether it was his pleading voice, so utterly sweet, or the way his big, gentle hands rolled over her shoulders, she didn’t know, but all of a sudden heat swirled between her thighs. Beads of sweat broke out at her temples, and she couldn’t breathe. Captivated, she could do nothing but stare into his pools of blue.
“I promise,” she muttered.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his face mere inches from hers.
Her lungs began to burn. Realizing she’d forgotten how to breathe, she parted her lips, let the air flutter out. The sound drew his gaze to her mouth. The air in her chest stalled again. It was as if his eyes were kissing her, she could almost feel it, almost taste him. Moisture pooled in her mouth.
His eyes closed, and his head dipped down. She tightened her leg muscles and held her breath. Anticipation of his lips touching hers made butterflies flutter in her stomach. She’d waited for this moment for so long, dreamed about it so many times. Teetering on the edge of despair, she closed her eyes, and leaned forward.
Soft and warm, his breath fluttered against her lips, and the hands on her shoulders tightened, but then, with a gentle push, he thrust himself away.
Gasping, she slumped against the door, heart pounding.. He strolled across the room, placed both hands on the sill, and stared out the open window. The sight of his broad shoulders, rippled with muscles that pulled on the seams of his white shirt, did little to assist her in gaining control of her raging senses. Lean, standing well over six feet, he was the perfect image of a real, life-breathing man.
She’d seen plenty of male bodies, had laid out more dead men than she cared to remember for grieving families and Reverend Mitchell. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed or ever wanted to do again, but she’d never been able to refuse a request for assistance when someone knocked upon her door.
The idea of moving away, living on Colt’s ranch, the Highland, several miles west of town, and not ever having to encounter Reverend Mitchell again, sounded like pure heaven. Well, that and being Mrs. Colt Severson. Waking in the morning, wrapped in those brawny arms, had to be paradise on earth. Her legs forgot how much she needed them again. Grasping the edge of the dresser and pressing her heels onto the hard floor, she prayed her knees wouldn’t buckle and send her slithering to the floor like a wilted flower stem.
After a few silent moments, and when she felt capable, she pushed away from the door and moved to the washing station on the opposite side of the bed from where he stood. Hopefully the drinking water in the pitcher was fresh, and would assist in cooling her overheated mind and body.
“Your father chose to go to Okalahoma.”
The sound of his voice caused her to choke. Pinching her lips, she muffled most of the convulsions in her throat, and blinked at how the sting made tears form in her eyes.
“Annalee, I swear to you. He volunteered. I didn’t ask him to go.”
She wiped the moisture from her lashes before pivoting. Arms crossed, he leaned against the window, half-sitting on the bottom ledge. She took another sip of water, washing down a moan. It rolled around in the lowest pit of her torso. Setting the glass down, she moved to a chair in the corner, plopping onto the cushion only seconds before her trembling legs completely gave out.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
Heat licked at her cheeks. Had she said that out loud? What did it matter? The truth was the truth, and her father had known how she felt about Colt. In all honesty, he’d offered to force the rancher to marry her more than once. Deep down, she’d secretly hoped he would. Dread filled her body. It appeared he’d done it—persuading Colt to marry her by stealing his prized cattle—and it made her feel lower than a snake’s belly. All along her father must have been creating a ruse, an event that would provide an opportunity to convince Colt to marry her. Colt hadn’t said as much, but she imagined her father had offered her hand in marriage to Colt if he agreed not to contact the authorities about the stolen cattle.
She pressed a hand to her temples. If her father was here right now, she’d turn the gun on him, and make sure she had shells in it.
Her stomach churned, and silently she admitted that she could never shoot anyone. But her father sure had a talking-to coming. “That doesn’t surprise me, my father volunteering to go.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Tell me, C-Mr. Severson. If you had a daughter, and you’d schemed for the man you’d just stolen cattle from to marry her, wouldn’t you want to hightail it out of town for a while?”
A slow smile grew upon his face. Her heart threatened to leap into her throat. Even when she felt sick enough to throw up, one look from him sent her roiling with excitement. It was true. She had absolutely no control when it came to Colt Severson.
He acknowledged her statement with an obligatory nod, but said, “I will never steal cattle, or anything else.” He straightened his stance. “And when we have a daughter, and she’s ready to wed, it will be to the man of her choosing.”
Her jumping heart blocked her airway at the word we. Dragging in a breath, she tried to hold her composure and searched for something to say. “Ah,” she said, copying his nod. “But you did steal.”
He moved toward the bed, one brow attractively arched on his tan forehead. “Oh?
What did I steal?”
A touch of bravado tickled her spine. She stood, faced him over the span of the bed. “Me.”
“How so?”
“I’m not a child. I’m twenty-three, and manage my own life. My father had no right to offer me in marriage, or any other way.”
The heat from his gaze, roaming her torso as his eyes made their way up to meet hers, made the air in the room sizzle. “You’re right. You’re definitely not a child.”
Didn’t she know it! The need bubbling in her core was not childish. Instinct said it was womanly, and would only be satisfied by him. The steam from his gaze had set her breasts on fire. They tingled, wanting his touch. The notion should shock her, but it didn’t. She closed her eyes, tried to slow the heady sensations from clouding her mind. This happened every time she encountered him, and experience had proved it took hours before she felt normal again.
“So, if that’s the case, that you manage your own life…tell me, Annalee, why did you agree to marry me?” he asked, so softly the words seemed to float on the air.
Chapter Three
Colt tried to keep his eyes on her, but her stance, shoulders back, breasts thrust forward, was so damn enticing every inch of his body pulsated. He blinked, wondered where to look. Every foot of the room reminded him of her, and the charged air screamed it was their wedding night.
One look at the big bed almost caused an explosion in his loins. He sucked a breath of air and strolled back to the window, where he promptly stuck his head out of the opening.
He’d wanted her for so long, three years to be exact, and now that the waiting was almost over, he found time had sharpened his desire to unbelievable heights. Yesterday morning, when one of his cowboys had used a six-shooter to herd two rustlers into his ranch office, he’d been dumbfounded to see one of the men was Koot Sapp, Annalee’s father. Koot was a fine carpenter, one of the best around. Colt had bought several pieces from him over the years, and knew money couldn’t be the reason for Koot’s actions.
Three sheets in the wind from drinking all night with his cohorts, Koot blubbered on and on about how upset Annalee would be if he got arrested. Colt hadn’t paid the drunken words much mind at first, but when Koot said she’d probably marry the reverend while he served his time, Colt’s mind snapped to attention.
He hadn’t immediately jumped in with his offer, didn’t want to appear too eager, even though the image of Annalee in his bed had haunted him for years and the thought of her married to someone else ate at him day and night. By mid-afternoon, when his men discovered his cattle and the other two rustlers camped in a low cove of hills near the river, he caught on to the sham. There were no real rustlers, just Koot and a few of his fishing buddies. Colt spent the evening contemplating why the man would put together such a scheme.
Only one reason blazed in his mind. Koot didn’t want his daughter marrying the high-and-mighty preacher any more than Colt wanted her to. Colt also comprehended that the man was presenting him the opportunity to get Annalee to the altar as fast as possible.
Last night, when Koot had sobered up, Colt made his offer. Annalee’s hand in exchange for him not pressing charges. Grinning knowingly, Koot said it would have to be her choice. Then he insisted on leading a posse of men to Oklahoma to apprehend the rest of the rustlers. Colt didn’t bother to tell Koot he knew where the rest of his friends were. He reckoned the man didn’t need to know the ruse was up—leastwise not before Annalee agreed. Someday he’d have to thank his new father-in-law. A smile tugged at his lips. Koot was a smart man, and Annalee was right. Koot didn’t want to be in the same county as her when she heard of her father’s latest activities.
He knew the feeling. This morning, half-afraid Annalee might shoot him, he’d put on his Sunday shirt and ridden to town to tell his blushing bride-to-be the news.
With his head still hanging out of the window, Colt gulped for air in response to the guilt that slammed into his stomach. Koot may not have forced him into marriage, but he, Colt Severson, sure as hell had forced Annalee into it.
Annalee Sapp was the belle of Dodge. She sang in the church choir, fed the homeless, nursed the sick, arranged funerals, found shelter for orphans, and didn’t accept male callers of any breed. Especially not a thirty-year-old, ex Texas Ranger who’d moved to Dodge set on making a fortune in the beef market. She was the highest of purity, he—in her eyes—the lowest. She’d told him so, quite bluntly, on the street corner when she rushed to the defense of the two ragamuffins he’d caught rifling through his saddlebags when he’d first moved to Kansas.
They’d clashed a few other times, but for the most part, Miss Annalee Sapp kept to herself in a small house on the edge of town, refusing any and all male callers, except for the pastor of course, whom she rushed to assist at all hours of the day and night. The thought of how Reverend Mitchell questioned her approval of the marriage several times, including once during the ceremony itself, made his guts boil. It was clear the man of the cloth had had high hopes of keeping Annalee for himself. Colt clamped his back teeth together.
In his opinion, Mitchell was little more than the devil wearing a starched white collar. Reverend or not, the man had better never step foot on the Highland or he’d find himself in need of a preacher to bury him a good six feet underground.
After several deep breaths, which did provide a relative amount of control, Colt pulled his head in and turned about. He had to tell her the truth.
Arms folded over her breasts, she stood on the far side of the bed, lips pinched and glaring at him.
Then his body started to throb again. Even looking as friendly as a wet hornet, he wanted her, was ready to strip every inch of pink silk off her luscious body and toss her on the bed. He tightened every controllable muscle and glanced down at the table near the window. Gleaming in the fading sunlight, the penny sat on the lacy doily. He picked it up, twirled it between his fingers.
She needed time to get used to the idea of marriage, of what the union included, which meant he had to take it slow, give her time to get to know him, and make certain his lust for her didn’t send her running for the hills. Then he’d tell her the truth. He folded his fingers around the coin, realizing he needed all the luck he could get.
“Colt—” she started, but stopped when he held up a hand.
Her big brown eyes, as wary as a newborn calf, watched as he walked around the bed. He crouched down and lifted her skirt a small amount. Twisting the penny sideways, so it could slide inside the high leather of her button-up boot, he released the coin. Rising beside her, he grasped both of her slender shoulders and slightly twirled her toward him.
“A penny in your shoe is good luck, you know.”
A tender, slight frown formed between her eyes. “I’ve heard that,” she admitted.
“Do you believe it?” he asked.
Her shoulders slightly shrugged.
“I do.” His voice came out in a husky whisper. It was powerful, this draw she had on him, and damn hard to fight. Temptation became so strong he couldn’t resist it any longer. He had to taste her before his body exploded more fiercely than a sulfur geyser. Slowly, watching her reaction, he lowered his face.
The softest moan he’d ever heard escaped her lips as his mouth brushed over them. The smooth, silky feel and the sweet, heavenly flavor made his hands travel over her shoulders and up her neck until his palms cupped her face. He held her head so he could delve deeper, get a longer, more concentrated taste. She was intoxicating enough to make his head swirl, and he closed his eyes, savoring her.
A warm sensation seeped into his sides, and it wasn’t until he lifted his face, sighing with pleasure that he realized her hands clutched his waist. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, and her eyes were closed, the long lashes resting on her high cheekbones. Colt had never wanted something as badly as he did right now. But the comprehension of what that want was made him question his ability to gain it. He ran his thumbs over the lashes, understanding what he
wanted—what he needed—was for her to want him as badly as he wanted her.
Her lids lifted, and the gaze from those shimmering brown eyes made his heart double in size. His hands slipped to her back. Heat from her flesh beneath the dress absorbed into his palms and he drew her closer, cradling her against his frame. She twisted her head, nestling it against his chest and her hands slid around his back. Holding her was all he ever dreamed it would be.
Their mingled sigh was music to his ears.
They stood like that for several minutes, and would have remained there many, many more if Colt had his way, but she lifted her head, causing him to ease his hold. A tinge of fear that she’d conjured up something to be angry about—possibly the kiss—made him release her and then grasp one hand. “Come on,” he said, leading her toward the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He could have sworn she sounded a touch breathless, and slowed his pace. “To the dining room. It’s time for supper.”
“Oh.” She stopped near his side as he paused to unlock the door.
He recaptured her hand as they exited the room. She didn’t protest—in actuality, her fingers laced with his so naturally he could have sworn her tiny digits had been created to intertwine with his big ones. A companionable silence hovered as they descended the stairs, and he chanced a glance her way. She looked up. The way the air shot out of his body made Colt wonder if a lightning bolt had struck his chest.
Her lips curled with a tiny grin and her eyes glowed. On impulse he winked. The way she lowered her lids and her cheeks grew pink made a smile the size of Texas leap onto his face. That was one lucky penny.
When they stepped off the stairs, he lifted their clutched hands. Gently, he separated their fingers then curled her hand around his elbow and held her fingers in place with his other hand.
They crossed the foyer to the double doors of the dining room. Colt always knew there was something surreal about entering a crowded room with a beautiful woman on his arm, but at this moment, he realized the significance of having that women be his wife. His chest puffed, and if possible, he could have sworn he grew another inch right then and there.
Wedding Night with the Ranger Page 2
