Texas Rose TH2 (21 page)

"Just say yes to the man, Evie. It doesn't require any more than that." Tyler's voice was soft, almost gentle as his hand trailed down her cheek, then lingered a moment to rest at the nape of her neck.

The golden flecks in his eyes held her captivated; she couldn't look away. He was mesmerizing her like a cat does a mouse. Evie wanted to protest, but she could only return his stare as the others in the room stirred restlessly.

"Start the ceremony, Reverend," Tyler ordered, never turning his gaze from Evie.

After harrumphing and sending another look around the room in an appeal for assistance, the preacher pulled out his book and began repeating the words to the wedding ceremony.

Rain clattered against the tin roof. The heat of the closed room caused Tyler's wet coat to steam. Daniel stirred with restless frustration. The combination of wet and heat brought out the scent of cinnamon and roses in Evie's hair, and the smell wafted through the room as the preacher droned on.

Tyler pinched her when it came time for her response. The reverend didn't know her full name and thus called her Maryellen Peyton as the town knew her. Evie repeated the lie, wondering how that would affect the vows they were exchanging. She noticed there was no mention of Pecos or Martin when Tyler gave his vows. This whole ceremony seemed unreal, like some act put on by a traveling theater troupe. Surely it took more than this to seal her to one man into eternity.

But the ring Tyler pulled off his finger to put on hers was very real. And it was even more real when the reverend told Tyler he could kiss the bride and Tyler did so. He smelled of tobacco and leather and a faint scent of spicy shaving lotion. His lips were hard and firm and very decisive as she clutched his loose ring in one hand and tried not to touch him with the other. He was making a point here, and Evie wasn't at all certain that she was ready to accept it. The pain in her stomach had changed to swirls of something very like anticipation.

The reality was even stronger when Mr. Cleveland produced a printed license with scrolls and flowers around the sides and asked that everyone present sign it. Evie was first, and she hesitated, wondering what she was doing when she went to sign her name and knew she couldn't use her real one. She put an "E" in front of the Maryellen and told herself that the Peyton was real enough. It just lacked the "Howell" to be complete.

Tyler signed his with a flourish. His middle name was Douglas. He didn't look like a Douglas. Evie sent him a surreptitious look from beneath lowered lashes, but he was patiently handing the pen to the preacher.

Ben signed in a very distinct copperplate hand, then carried the paper to Daniel. Daniel was still looking at Evie with uncertainty, but when she stood without protesting beneath Tyler's hold, he slowly carved his name across the final line.

The preacher rolled the paper up after the ink dried and handed it with satisfaction to Tyler. "All right and tight, sir. May I congratulate you on your fine choice of wife? And Mrs. Monteigne, may I be the first to welcome you to your new name? I hope you will settle here so I might christen your first child."

The color that drained from Evie's cheeks at the mention of her new name flared briefly at the mention of the child. She was married and going to have a baby. She thought the appropriate thing to do would be to swoon.

But no matter how hard she concentrated on it, she couldn't seem to manage a swoon. Evie clenched her teeth as Tyler bade the preacher farewell. She walked out of his presumptuous hold and toward the door as soon as the man left. She didn't even turn around to speak to the other men in the room. She walked out, and they all stared after her, listening carefully to be certain her footsteps went no farther than the room next door. They didn't.

Tyler exhaled a heavy breath, ran his hand through his hair, and turned an uncertain look to Ben and Daniel.

They were both waiting for him to give explanations. He didn't have any to give. He'd just gone and got himself shackled when he had only just decided it was time to find another woman. He'd been planning on finally taking Starr to her room tonight. Now look at him.

"She's carrying my baby," he finally admitted before walking out, following Evie from the room. Daniel's furious cry followed him, but the silence from Benjamin was equally ominous.

Benjamin knew his history, and it wasn't a good one. Walking slowly, Tyler faced the panel separating him from his newly acquired wife. He could open the door and meet the future with a ball and chain that he had spent years avoiding, or he could walk away and never look back.

He'd done the latter once. He had regretted it ever since. With calm resolution, Tyler opened the door.

Chapter 16

Evie stared at the flowers in her bedroom through tear-misted eyes. She wasn't much of a gardener and wasn't certain of the proper names for everything, but the riot of color struck her with sobs that could have been joy had the circumstances been different.

A giant bouquet of paper roses adorned the old oak dresser. Entire branches of real lilac were strewn across the bed, filling the air with heavenly scents. Green stalks topped by dancing yellow heads filled the water pitcher. Branches covered in pink occupied her sitting chair. She hadn't thought the entire town had held that much color. Obviously, it didn't any longer. Tyler must have robbed every garden in the territory, and maybe a cemetery or two. She didn't know where he'd found the paper roses.

Tears were rolling down Evie's cheeks when Tyler entered. She didn't look at him, just stood there clasping her elbows and shaking with sobs. He glanced around to better examine his handiwork in the light of the one lamp he had lit earlier.

The easel and canvas he had glimpsed once were stored away, as were the books and other niceties that Evie liked to travel with. The towering stack of trunks told their story. She had meant to move out of this room.

He didn't want to know what that meant. He came up behind her, but he was afraid to touch her. He'd thought the flowers would add a festive touch for a less than festive occasion, but he hadn't expected floods of tears. Not from Evie. He was afraid she would crumble if he touched her.

"The stores were closed. I couldn't buy a wedding gift," he offered tentatively. He'd never really had to court a woman before, and Tyler felt awkward at the business. Had she been anyone but Evie, he could have her out of her gown and on the bed within minutes. But Evie had every reason to despise him and what would happen on that bed. It put a man in a damned awkward position.

Evie dashed at her tears with the back of her hand. "They're lovely. I wish I knew what they were all called. I'd like to have a garden someday with all of them in it."

"Roses, lilacs, Easter flowers, and I don't know what they call the pink things, but I can find out. It's a good thing they don't hang a man for flower theft around here, or you'd be a widow tomorrow." He tried the light touch, but it didn't sound so light after he said it.

Evie nodded hesitantly. "It would be very confusing to be twice widowed and never married. I guess it's a good thing you won't hang."

The laughter wasn't there, but at least she was making jokes. Tyler allowed himself a small breath of relief as he loosened his tie. The Evie he knew wasn't overly inclined to tears. That must be the effect of pregnancy. Already, she was starting to bounce back. They would have to learn to make the best of a bad situation.

"I guess the live ones ought to go in water. I don't suppose that collection of trunks has vases?"

"The top one has the china," Evie answered vaguely, her gaze traveling to the flower-filled water pitcher. She would have to wash and prepare herself for bed. How could she do it with Tyler in the room? She didn't think stringing a sheet across the room worked with a husband.

Tyler reached for the trunk. "Take the Easter flowers out of the water pitcher. I've ordered up hot water. You can go behind the dressing screen to get ready while I dig out your china."

She watched worriedly as he lifted the smallest trunk from the stack, but he handled it with care. A knock at the door sent her scurrying for the screen. She didn't want anyone to see her right now. It was as if the whole world knew she was newly married and could see in their heads what was about to happen to her. Or she thought would happen to her. Tyler hadn't touched her. Maybe he would leave her alone.

She really didn't think he would, but Evie clung to the notion as Tyler moved around the room while she cautiously unfastened her shirtwaist. He handed a pitcher of steaming water around the dressing screen, and it looked inviting enough to encourage her to wash. She had heard of marriages of convenience. Perhaps that was what Tyler intended. She felt better just imagining it.

As she washed, Evie threw a dubious look at the high- necked linen nightgown she usually wore to bed. She wasn't at all certain that she could step out from behind the screen wearing that. Perhaps she ought to keep on her chemise and corset and pantalets. Sleeping in a corset sounded highly uncomfortable, but to allow herself to be unfettered beneath a thin piece of linen seemed a wanton thing to do in Tyler's presence.

She compromised and wore just the chemise and pantalets beneath the gown. It was going to be infernally warm that way, but she couldn't just go about practically naked.

Emerging from behind the screen, she saw Tyler had stuck the flowers in china teapots and crystal vases and laid them in gravy bowls. He had unfastened his tie and thrown off his coat and waited in shirtsleeves with his hands characteristically shoved in his pockets as he leaned against the door. His gaze drifted over the loose linen of her long gown, then came back up to meet hers.

The disappointment she had first thought she'd seen in his eyes was carefully replaced now by a neutral expression.

"You're going to be warm in all that gear. I won't object if you want to make yourself a little more comfortable while I wash." Unfastening his shirt as he went, Tyler disappeared behind the screen.

He was good, too good. Without giving an order or voicing a protest, he had told her that he didn't want her wearing all these clothes. He had also shattered her brief illusion. Cheeks flushing, Evie stood in the middle of the braided rug and tried to decide what to do next. She didn't want to wear all this gear, either, but she remembered all too clearly what Tyler could do if she didn't. To take it off would make it seem as if she wanted him to do
that
again.

She didn't. What they had done had been dirty, painful, and embarrassing beyond recall. There had been blood and stickiness. They had behaved like animals. He needed to be reminded that she was a lady. And since she was already pregnant, what was the purpose of repeating the act? Perhaps she wouldn't have to.

Relieved by that thought, Evie climbed into bed. It wasn't exactly a romantic marriage bed. The iron bars had been painted a white that had yellowed with age. She had left her own linens on it, however, and she was grateful for that. It seemed more civilized to sleep on linens embroidered with her initials and edged in lace.

Her initials. Evie glanced worriedly at the EPH neatly scrolled in antique white embroidery thread on each pillowcase. What would she tell Tyler if he asked about the H?

Her stomach tensed again as she heard the unmistakable sounds of water splashing from behind the screen. Was Tyler standing there with all his clothes off? What if an intruder came in and she screamed right now?

That irrepressible thought sent Evie off into a fit of giggles she tried to muffle in her pillow. This was the most awful night of her life, and she was laughing at the thought of the grand Tyler Monteigne rushing into the room stark naked and carrying a six-gun. She must be losing her mind.

Stripping off his pants to bathe, Tyler heard her giggles and felt a sudden quenching of his ardor. The sound of giggles in the boudoir could have that effect on a man, he reflected as he scrubbed at his face and wished he had his razor. What in hell could the little witch find to laugh about at this hour? He half expected to walk out and find her waiting with a shotgun.

The thought of emerging from behind the screen presented certain other problems. Whatever else she might be, Evie was a lady who knew nothing of the physical side of men except what little he had forced on her. She would most likely go into shock should he walk out in his birthday suit as he was inclined to do. If she was already waxing hysterical, he couldn't afford to send her over the brink.