Teresa Bodwell (19 page)
Authors: Loving Miranda
Chapter 16
Considering the haste with which the family had planned this wedding, Ben was amazed to see the entire community join in the celebration. There weren’t enough seats in the small church for the assembled crowd. Even the preacher remarked he would like to see so many faithful for a regular Sunday service, though he wasn’t willing to provide free whiskey as an incentive. This comment drew laughter from the congregation.
Ben wiped his palms on his jacket as he waited near the minister for the ceremony to begin. His stomach churned as he reminded himself he was doing this for Miranda. It was the right thing to do. Thad was correct. It wouldn’t be fair for Ben to destroy Miranda’s reputation in the community, then leave her to deal with the consequences alone.
All eyes focused on Miranda when she entered the room, and Ben gave up all effort to think sensibly. The usual bounce was missing from her step; instead, she seemed to float toward him. When she reached his side, she stood in a ray of afternoon sunshine coming through the window, glowing in her blue satin dress. It was unfair of her to wear something that so exactly followed and emphasized every one of her womanly curves, from her luscious, round hips to her narrow waist and on up to her delicate bosom. The cut of the bodice dipped low enough to show the rounded tops of the pair of firm breasts that had been created to fit precisely into a man’s palm. His mouth went dry as he imagined dipping his tongue into the warm crevice between those breasts and around them and all over her smooth, creamy skin.
Yes, she was heartless to make him have such thoughts in church in front of a large crowd. It was no wonder he’d lost his mind and repeated whatever the minister suggested. He was helpless. Surely no one could be expected to live up to promises made under such conditions.
Ben was stunned as the crowd let out a whoop at the end of the ceremony and swept the couple up into the tide carrying the crowd from the church to Rita’s. The saloon had been decorated and rearranged for a double celebration—the wedding and Jonathan’s long awaited adoption. Food and drink spread out along the long bar for the taking, provided by Rita, the Wyatts, the Buchanans, and many of the other families in attendance. Ben could hardly believe the quantity of food, or the speed with which it disappeared.
When some of the women teased Miranda about letting her man go hungry, she piled a plate high with food and brought it to him. Giggling, his bride sat on Ben’s lap and fed him with a crowd of onlookers cheering her on. He smiled and indulged her in the ritual, though it all seemed senseless to him. It had been a day of absurdity. He had stood in front of a room full of strangers and made promises to a woman he barely knew. A woman who intrigued him, puzzled him, and filled him with incredible desire. And that was the worst of it.
As much as he tried to convince himself that he was going through with this ritual for her, he could not escape the truth. He wanted the chance to make believe that she really was his, even if their marriage was to be short-lived.
The sounds of fiddles tuning drew Ben’s attention. He looked up to watch the musicians assemble: Thad on guitar, Clarisse and a man Ben hadn’t met on fiddle, and Mercy playing the piano. Several of the men moved the tables against one wall to create a dance floor in the middle of the large room. As there were three men for every woman, Ben relinquished his wife after the first dance. The men were lined up to partner her, but she sought out Jonathan. After all, she said, it was his party, too. Jock Meier swept in for the next dance. Then an officer from the nearby fort led her out for a reel, while Ben found a table in the corner to sit and watch.
He studied Miranda. Her smile never faltered as she was handed from one partner to the next. Occasionally, she looked at Ben and shrugged, which seemed to be her admission that she was perhaps a bit guilty for neglecting him. But there was no question that she was enjoying herself. That was it—Miranda could enjoy herself more thoroughly than anyone Ben had ever met.
He’d known men who, under the influence of spirits, could laugh and sing all night, but their pleasure never seemed real. Miranda’s laugh was filled with pure joy. Perhaps that was why she seemed so . . . alive to him. And knowing the truth about the pain she had endured, Ben couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to feel so much now.
That smile of hers nearly made him feel alive, too. It was natural—he was certain of that. She didn’t have to stop and think to smile. When he smiled it was deliberate, something he did because he had to, or because he thought it would help him get something that he wanted. He could use a smile to persuade, to woo. But he didn’t smile because joy compelled him to smile. At least he hadn’t done so in a long, long time.
When he was very young, his mother had told him that his smile was her sunshine, and he had wanted to smile for Mother. Being with her made him feel content.
He looked back at Miranda, who was now dancing with her father. The old man hobbled around, not quite in rhythm with the music, but they were both laughing. He glanced at the gathered musicians and noticed Thad watching the dancers; he was smiling as well. Most of the folks in the room looked happy at that moment. The atmosphere of the celebration and the contribution of the liquor, too, no doubt, had everyone feeling something like joy.
Ben poked a fork into the plate in front of him. He wasn’t going to indulge in whiskey to achieve that artificial joy. That was too fleeting. And real joy was beyond his reach.
Mercy sat down near Ben and he braced himself for a lecture.
“Been wanting to have a moment with you.” She leaned toward him, her clear green eyes focused on his. “I don’t need to tell you how much I care for my sister.”
“I know what you’re going to say. If I hurt your sister, you’ll break my arm.”
“You have me figured wrong, Ben.” Mercy’s eyes gleamed as she broke into a wide grin. “If you hurt my sister, your arm will not be my target. And, in case you’re wondering, I do generally hit what I’m aimin’ for.”
Ben cleared his throat. “I assure you, I know how to treat a lady.”
“Yes, Miranda did mention that.” Mercy favored him with a more demure smile. “I’m not talkin’ about that.”
They both turned to where her sister was dancing with yet another soldier. Miranda was beaming one of her sunshine smiles at the man, and Ben felt a tug of jealousy—he hated sharing her. Though, since he wasn’t planning on staying with her, he had no right to demand her sole attention.
“I expect . . .” Mercy still focused on her sister. “You intend to leave her soon. Thinkin’ you’ve done your duty, marrying her so she’ll be respectable.”
Ben schooled his expression to hide his surprise that Mercy had guessed his plan.
“I want you to know—you’ll be making a mistake.” She turned and shot him a look that could burn through an iron plate. “You stumbled on a treasure when you found Miranda. Only a fool walks away from treasure.” She stood and tugged at his hand. “Now, you best come dance with me. Your wife has danced with near every man in Fort Victory and here you sit in the corner alone. Folks’ll think you aren’t a happy bridegroom.”
Ben followed Mercy across the floor, aware of Thad glaring at him. Mercy turned to her husband and his expression changed to a brilliant smile.
Hell, the whole damn family is always grinning like a pack of fools.
Ben wasn’t sure he could last through the winter with so much absurd happiness around him all the time.
Hell, the whole damn family is always grinning like a pack of fools.
Ben wasn’t sure he could last through the winter with so much absurd happiness around him all the time.
It had been a long while since he’d danced, and he felt clumsy as he stepped to the music first with Mercy, then Clarisse. When it was time to partner Miranda at last, Ben’s feet felt lighter than air. It was her laughter that went right through his heart and made him feel weightless. Before the dance was over, he was smiling a foolish smile himself at the wonder of her.
Mercy went back to the piano and started a waltz that brought Miranda into his arms. He liked the feel of her there, close. Step by step together they followed the dancers around the room until he was dizzy and wild with the desire to be alone with her, alone with his wife. Temporary though it might be, she was his and he wanted her.
A hundred dances and a thousand congratulatory slaps on the back later, they found their horses for the journey home. They rode slowly, following the wagon that carried Thad, Mercy, Pa and Jonathan. The party was still going at Rita’s. Miranda told her the cowboys would likely be in town all night. The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and it was nearly dark when they reached the old cabin where they would set up housekeeping.
Ben was glad Miranda had chosen not to live in the small house with her sister’s family. He was happy to have Miranda all to himself and grateful not to have to invent polite conversation with his new family. Every time he spoke to them, he was afraid they’d see him for the liar he was.
They called out good nights and promised to be in church in the morning. Ben was certain he’d feel like a thief when he faced the preacher the next day.
“You’d better have meant all those promises,” the old man would say, and he’d be forced to lie again.
Settling the horses seemed to take forever. When he entered the cabin, Miranda had it glowing with candles and a warm fire. She greeted him with a kiss that made him forget all his misgivings about the wedding. He’d treasure each night he had with her. Although he questioned whether marrying Miranda had been the right thing to do, he had no doubts about the pleasure of having her for a wife.
Once again, he felt the tug of guilt.
“Look, Mercy fixed the bed for us.” Miranda led him to the bed and ran a hand lovingly over the cover.
In the dim light, Ben couldn’t see much of the new quilt, but that didn’t matter. He was only interested in getting Miranda under it.
“Seems a shame to make a mess of it.” Miranda teased him as she opened the buttons on his vest. “I could pull the bear pelt out.”
His mind seemed incapable of forming a word, and he had another use for his tongue in any case. He tasted her throat and made his way slowly down to her breasts. The sweet lavender scent she wore mixed with the salt on her skin and he breathed it in. He kissed the part of her breasts that her dress revealed, then probed his tongue down into the crevice between them until Miranda mewed with pleasure.
Her hands stopped the work they had done on his buttons and tangled into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him tight against her. He wrapped his arms around her and fumbled with her buttons while his tongue continued its work. He took a little bite.
“Ugh,” she groaned.
“What?” Ben lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Miranda’s voice was husky. “Only I’m afraid someone will be hurt if we don’t get this damned clothing off!”
Ben grinned. “You make a good point,” he said. He stepped behind her and managed the buttons and laces quickly, pausing only briefly to nibble at her graceful neck.
Ben pulled the quilt back, revealing clean white sheets. The rest of their clothing fell into piles next to the bed. They fell together onto the soft featherbed.
Ben drew his hand along her naked body from her hip to her breast. “You’re perfect, did you know that?”
Miranda surprised him by coming up to her knees and bending over him. She took him deep into her mouth, which only served to make him harder and more anxious to plunge into her. “Miranda,” he gasped. “You’re full of surpri—oh,” he groaned. “I need to come inside you. Now!” The need was so urgent, in fact, that he nearly forgot the prize he’d managed to find in town after some discreet inquiries at Rita’s.
“What’s that?” she asked as he retrieved the small package.
He unwrapped the parcel and pulled out one of the sheaths. “It’s made from a sheep’s intestine. If I wear it, we won’t make a baby.”
“Oh.” Miranda pulled him back into the bed, and it was all he could do to remember to cover himself with the damn thing before joining with his lovely bride at last. It was a bit clumsy, like working with gloves on, yet well worth it to stay inside her until they were both satisfied.
He rocked deep within her until she cried out his name. He watched her face as he surged harder and faster inside her until his own pleasure matched hers.
They held each other close as their hearts slammed against their chests. Ben nuzzled Miranda’s ear and held her small body tight against him. “Perfect, love. You are perfect,” he mumbled.
Later, Miranda put out the candles, while Ben banked the fire for the night. When they slid back under the blankets, they pressed together for warmth.
“Why?” she murmured into his chest. “Why don’t you want to make a baby?”
“I wouldn’t want to leave you with a baby to care for,” Ben mumbled as he nuzzled her shoulder.
Miranda felt like she’d swallowed a lead ball. Of course he hadn’t meant to stay with her. He considered the marriage a sham. “I can take care of myself. Don’t you fret about me.”
“I’m a selfish cad, it’s true; but I’m not that selfish. I’d worry about you and the child.”
“If it should happen, my family would help me.” Miranda blurted out before she had a chance to think. In her mind, she had settled back in Fort Victory to be close to her sister and father. Her dreams had grown to include Ben and their children.
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