Never Marry a Cowboy (7 page)

She adored him. It was as simple and as complex as that. From the moment she had first heard tales of the Englishman David had met on his journey abroad, she had been fascinated with him. Then she had met
him at her brother's party, listened as he spoke with a deep voice accentuated with grandeur, and watched his every courtly gesture, mesmerized. She had desperately wanted to dance with him, but the subject of Clarisse had come up during the conversation at dinner. After that, Kit had been interested only in her brother's expensive wine, not in his companions.

Ah, yes, she would speak the vows as though she meant them, because she did. She prayed that her heart would not shatter when he repeated vows that were of little consequence to him or his heart.

Kit's gaze did not stray from hers as the minister spoke on the merits of love and the responsibilities of marriage. She had yearned to hear words such as these directed her way, surrounding her and the man who would make a life with her. She had not expected the words to echo within the church, a hollow sound that reverberated within her empty heart.

She and Kit had no life except for this one evening. They would have no children, no home, and no shared dreams to whisper about during the night as they held each other within their arms. She stood before the altar experiencing the wedding of a child, not that of a woman.

The minister turned to Kit and bade him to repeat his vows. Until this moment, Ashton did not realize that she dreaded the vows that would bind them through
sickness
until
death
. Words she loathed would weave their way into her special evening, tainting it beyond measure. Why had she not thought to ask that their vows be changed?

As though sensing her doubts, understanding her
misgivings, Kit took her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed his lips to her fingers, the warmth of his mouth seeping through her gloves.

“Repeat after me,” the minister began.

Yet before the minister uttered another word, Kit spoke his vow in a voice that rang strong, clear, and true. “I, Christian Montgomery, take thee, my dearest Ashton Robertson, to love, honor, and cherish as my beloved wife.”

Everyone seemed to fade away except this man who stood beside her, giving her in ways she'd never imagined an evening she would never forget. Gladness filled her heart and joy swirled within her as she tightened her fingers around his, her gratitude immeasurable. He had mentioned no illness, allowed no reference to the inevitability of death. Only the inevitability of life.

Ashton recited the vow that was now etched on her heart. “I, Ashton Robertson, take thee, my dearest Christian Montgomery, to love, honor, and cherish as my beloved husband.”

As though he'd never been interrupted, the minister announced, “Whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride.”

Holding her breath, Ashton waited as Kit slowly lifted her veil. Like an intimate caress, his gaze moved over her face as though he wanted to etch this moment into his memory as much as she did. He cradled her face between his large, strong hands, angled her head slightly, and lowered his mouth to hers. He brushed his lips lightly over hers, sealing their vows and their fate with only the shadow of a kiss.

The absence of passion sent disappointment reeling through her. She latched onto the gift of his vows, knowing that somewhere between the boundaries of dreams and reality she had to find contentment.

“So sweet,” he murmured against her temple. “This evening, I am indeed the most fortunate man in all of Fortune.”

Tears stung her eyes as he returned his mouth to hers with a gentle pressure that weakened her knees and hinted at secrets that had yet to be shared. He lifted his head and held her gaze. She smiled for all the gifts he'd given her this day.

He captured the tear rolling along her cheek with his thumb. His mouth curved into a tender smile as he crooked his elbow. “Mrs. Montgomery, shall we see what other secrets this evening's moments reveal?”

Joy spiraled through her with the realization that she was truly Ashton Montgomery, Kit's wife. She slipped her arm through his, relishing the sturdiness.

As he escorted her along the aisle, she was vaguely aware that people rose from the pews as they passed, but her world had narrowed to the light blue eyes that held hers as though nothing was more important than this moment shared with her.

In all her dreams, she'd never dared imagine him looking at her as he did now: as though he loved her with all his heart.

“O
h, I'm not at all surprised she won the marshal's heart,” Mrs. Gurney announced to her enthralled audience, as she slapped a child's hand away from the cookie tray. “Why, that first morning at breakfast, he could hardly take his eyes off her and I thought then, 'He's taken a fancy to her.' I ain't never been one to read a man wrong.”

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 approached
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.