The Colorado Bride

by Mary Burton

  He despised her bitterly, yet she craved his touch. Where was the sense of independence she’d guarded so carefully these last few years?

  “Why, Rebecca, you should always wear your hair up,” Mrs. Applegate declared. She stepped back, brush in hand, to survey her work. “You look lovely.”

  The upswept style drew attention to Rebecca’s high cheekbones and creamy white skin. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s lovely.”

  “You’re lovely,” Mrs. Applegate said.

  “Now for the finishing touches,” Prudence declared, turning toward the bouquet of flowers and picking several from the pile.

  She twisted several delicate blue flowers from their stems and pinned them into Rebecca’s hair. “These are columbines that grow wild behind my house. Columbines are for gentleness. May your groom’s heart be filled with gentleness.”

  Touched by Prudence’s sentiment, Rebecca admired the dainty crown.

  Mrs. Applegate retrieved the bundle of flowers from the bed. “Each of the ladies in town donated flowers from their garden so that you’d have an extra special bouquet.”

  Prudence fussed over a bent petal. “The roses are from my garden. They represent love and beauty.”

  “I picked the ivy so you’ll have a long life,” said Mrs. Applegate. “And Olivia Farthing picked the daises—so you’d always have sunshine in your life.”

  Rebecca fingered the fragile blossoms. Touched by their friendship, her heart overflowed with hope and joy. “You have all been so good to me.”

  Mrs. Applegate pulled a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dried Rebecca’s tears. “If you start that again, I’m liable to start blubbering like a babe.”

  Rebecca sniffed, trying to stem the tide of fresh tears. The clock on the wall began to chime as the second hand swept toward noon—one, two, three… “I’m afraid.”

  Four, five, six.

  Prudence squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine. Just wait and see.”

  Seven, eight, nine.

  “Are you certain he cares?” Rebecca hated the desperation that had crept into her voice.

  Ten, eleven, twelve.

  “Cole is a man of action, not words, and no matter how angry his words, always remember, he came back to you,” Mrs. Applegate said as she gave Rebecca a final hug and opened the door. “And he didn’t have to marry you.”

  Rebecca followed, uncertain of how she found the courage to put one foot in front of the other.

  Prudence sniffed back a tear and hurried ahead of Rebecca. “I’ll tell the fiddler to start playing.”

  From the top of the staircase, she heard the din of voices mingling on the front porch. By the sound of it, she imagined the entire town had turned out for her and Cole’s wedding.

  Mrs. Applegate smoothed a curl off Rebecca’s forehead and sniffed back a tear. “You look beautiful, dear.”

  Rebecca squeezed the older woman’s hand then moved toward the stairs.

  Just then the front door opened with a bang. Cole appeared at the threshold. His feet were braced apart as if he were ready for a fight.

  He wore a clean white shirt—the top three unfastened buttons forming a V at the base of his throat. Dark pants hugged his muscular thighs. He’d cinched a belt tightly at his narrow waist and brushed the mud from his scuffed boots.

  He conjured images of a pirate not a bridegroom and for a moment, Rebecca was half tempted to flee.

  Cole glared up at her. When his eyes met hers, he blinked as if he didn’t quite believe what he saw. The hard lines around his eyes softened and he strode to the base of the stairs and waited for Rebecca. “We’re ready for you.”

  Rebecca clutched her bouquet until her knuckles ached. The top stair creaked as she took her first step. She was certain her knees would buckle if she didn’t move carefully.

  Cole’s gaze remained riveted on her until she reached his side. He took her elbow and for an instant, he looked as if he’d speak, but instead he muttered an oath and guided her to the open front door and out onto the porch.

  As she suspected, all the people in White Stone had gathered in her yard. Bess stood beside a stern-faced sheriff and the boys, Mac in his brown dress pants and white shirt and Dusty in his new denims and red shirt. Even Ernie nodded with approval. The children’s faces split into wide grins when they saw her. Rebecca smiled.

  Thumb in mouth, Mac said, “Mama.”

  Dusty nodded. “Miss Rebecca.”

  Rebecca knelt in front of the children, mindful that Cole stood behind her, his body rigid. “My, don’t you two look fine today.”

  Mac touched the flowers circling Rebecca’s head. “Flowers.”

  “Yes.” Her throat tightened and only through force of will did she keep her voice even. “I love you two very much.”

  Dusty hugged Rebecca tight. “I love you, too.”

  At Cole’s impatient touch, she rose, her throat tight with unshed tears. She winked at the boys, then moistening her lips, allowed Cole to guide her toward the west end of the porch.

  A tall, pencil-thin man waited. He wore a gray suit, dusty cuffs and collar, a neat bowl-shaped hat and held a floppy Bible in his long bony fingers. “Good afternoon,” he said in a deep, clear voice.

  “Rebecca, this is Judge Bruce,” Cole said smoothly.

  She nodded to the judge. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Blast her ingrained manners. Why was she thanking him?

  The judge offered a wan smile and pulled a pair of wire-rim glasses from his pocket. “My stage leaves in fifteen minutes, so let’s get on with this.”

  “We’re ready,” Cole said in a clear, even voice.

  I’m not! The words danced on the tip of Rebecca’s tongue.

  Cole took his place at her side. The top of Rebecca’s head barely reached his shoulder. She marveled at his height and strength and prayed Mrs. Applegate’s assessment of him was true.

  Always remember, he came back to you.

  The judge cleared his throat. “Dearly, beloved, we are gathered here today to join together this man and woman in matrimony. Do you, Cole McGuire, take this woman to be your lawful wife?”

  “I do,” he said without hesitation.

  “Do you, uh—” the judged paused and checked his scribbled notes on the back of a tattered envelope “—Rebecca Elizabeth Sinclair Taylor take Cole McGuire to be your husband?”

  Before she could answer, Mac broke away from Bess, ran to Rebecca and hugged her legs. “My mama.”

  Rebecca patted Mac on his back. “Honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “He’s taking you.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  A tide of low whispers swept over the crowd. Rebecca knelt down and chucked her child under the chin. “Honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Cole knelt down in front of the child, all traces of tension gone. He smoothed a long finger over the child’s pudgy cheek. “Your ma’s right. She’s not leaving. I’m moving in here to live with you, Dusty and your ma for good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your ma and I are getting married.”

  “Why?”

  The muscle in the side of his jaw twitched as he hesitated. “It’s the right thing to do. From now on we’ll be a family.”

  Dusty frowned. “Me, too, Cole?”

  “You, too,” he said patting his shoulder. “From now on I’ll be your pa as well as Mac’s.”

  Rebecca’s throat stung with emotion. “Do you mean that?” she whispered.

  He rose and met her gaze. “I’ll do right by both of them.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cole hoisted Mac up. The boy settled easily in his arms, happy for the extra attention. “I believe you owe the judge an answer.”

  Rebecca stared into Cole’s direct gaze, searching for any sign that his heart held the tiniest bit of affection for her. She saw anger, fury and yes, passion. The latter gave her a measure of hope. Perhaps the barrier between love and hate were closer than s
he thought. “Yes, I’ll marry him.”

  The judge expelled the breath he was holding. “By the powers vested in me by the state of Colorado, I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

  She and Cole were married.

  The thought left Rebecca strangely exhilarated.

  Clearly Cole loved the children as much as she did. Together they would find a way past the anger and hurt and forge a friendship. Theirs might not be a love match now, but given time anything was possible.

  As Mrs. Applegate had said, Cole was a man of action and few words. Rebecca knew words meant nothing to Cole. She would have to show him she was sorry for her lie. She’d make him the best wife he could hope for.

  Rebecca turned to leave, doubting Cole would want to kiss her in front of all these people. Likely, he was still brimming with anger and she didn’t want to test his patience.

  But as Rebecca moved toward the well-wishers, Cole handed Mac to Bess and banded his long fingers around her narrow wrist. The lean planes of his face didn’t soften a fraction. “You owe me a kiss.”

  “B-but…’ she stammered, her gaze darting among the smiling faces.

  Cole gathered her in his arms, not giving her another chance to speak. The quick beat of his heart pounded under her palm.

  He kissed her and to her surprise, she didn’t care that the entire town surrounded them. He tightened his hold and in one searing moment deepened their kiss. Dark, erotic sensations flickered to life deep in her bones.

  She leaned into him, limp and wanting, savoring the way his rough skin made her skin tingle.

  Gene Applegate cleared his throat. “Now, there’s time enough for that.”

  Prudence and Mrs. Applegate snickered.

  Cole broke the kiss and stepped back, a frown marring his face. Rebecca stood in stunned silence, staring at him and shaken to the core.

  Mrs. Applegate tapped her on the shoulder. “Dear, is everything all right?”

  Rebecca touched her fingertips to her lips then looked around at the dozens of onlookers who stared boldly at them, many with their mouths agape. Color burned her cheeks. “Yes, of course.”

  “Good, then let’s have the band strike up a tune in honor of Mr. and Mrs. Cole McGuire.”

  Everyone clapped then. The women swarmed around Rebecca, giggling and joking about the kiss and wedding night. And the men circled Cole, sweeping him away as they shared a bawdy joke or two and talked of the prosperity sure to grace White Stone when the mine reopened.

  It all seemed to swirl around Rebecca like a dream. Over the crowd of laughing people, she caught a glimpse of Cole. He stood tall, a good head above everyone. Longing surged in her.

  As if sensing her appraisal, he looked up, his jaw tight. Their gazes locked. And she knew in that instant, his thoughts mirrored her own.

  She had done the right thing by marrying him. She repeated the words over and over again even as her thoughts drifted to their wedding night. Her mouth went as dry as cotton.

  Curtis had always been disappointed with her in bed, calling her clumsy, childish. She didn’t want Cole to be disappointed by her lack of experience.

  She had to find Bess.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The wedding celebration was more than Rebecca could ever have expected. Mrs. Applegate and her crew of women had outdone themselves, organizing the lavish display of fruit pies, roasted chickens and breads. The entire town gathered on the picnic grounds near the church. Rebecca and Cole spent most of the afternoon standing side by side accepting the good wishes of their neighbors.

  Cole’s smile was quick and full, but Rebecca saw the way he clenched his jaw when no one was looking. She knew he itched to leave the festivities behind.

  But there’d been no sign of Bess, and Rebecca grew more desperate with each passing minute.

  As Cole reached out to shake hands with another person, his arm grazed hers. Lightning bolts shot through her body, setting all her senses on edge. Her mouth grew dry. It had been years since she’d been held and her body ached to be loved and touched.

  Seth Osborne climbed up in the bed of an empty wagon and raised a Mason jar full of whiskey. “Okay folks, gather around so that I can toast the bride and groom.”

  Cole, silent and stone-faced, led Rebecca toward Seth. “After this, we’re leaving,” he said in a gruff voice, loud enough for only her to hear.

  His words fueled her worries. She found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the palm of his hand searing through her dress into the small of her back.

  Seth waited until the crowd circled around and quieted. “I reckon since I’ve lived in this town longer than anybody, it’s my job to offer the wedding toast. I’ve known Cole since he was fourteen years old. I’ve watched Rebecca grow from a girl into a woman and been proud at the way she’s mothered Mac and now Dusty.” He raised his glass. “Rebecca and Cole, you’re good people, and I wish you a long and happy marriage.”

  Rebecca’s chest tightened with unspoken emotion. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Seth.” Cole faced the crowd and said in a booming voice, “This has been a fine celebration, but it’s time my family and I went home. Good day to you all.”

  “Aren’t you going to stay longer? We’ve got sack races planned and the pie-eating contest,” Mrs. Applegate said, frowning.

  Rebecca, not ready to be alone with Cole, was quick to say, “Of course, we will.” She pulled her arm free and hurried into the center of the crowd, allowing them to engulf her. She didn’t dare look at Cole, sure that he was frowning. She presented her best smile and let the town ladies guide her over to the display of fried pies, cookies and sweet butters.

  Rebecca picked up a slice of gingerbread and nibbled the end, not really tasting the confection. “This is delicious,” she said, her voice a bit too enthusiastic.

  Mrs. Applegate picked up two cinnamon cookies. “Prudence was beside herself yesterday when no one got a chance to eat her blue ribbon gingerbread. It’ll do her heart glad to know the bride enjoyed some today.”

  Rebecca bit into the over-spiced confection. “It’s wonderful,” she lied.

  “You made a pretty bride, Mrs. McGuire,” Mrs. Applegate said. She dabbed a lace handkerchief to the corner of her eye.

  Rebecca lowered the cookie from her lips. “Mrs. McGuire. That sounds so strange.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Yes,” she said absently.

  Mrs. Applegate popped it in her mouth. “I know Cole’s rough around the edges, but he does clean up mighty well.”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Applegate bit into a second cookie. “He helped my nephew Stan with the fire and just a half hour ago offered him a job working in the mine as foreman.”

  Rebecca blinked. “He did?”

  “Yes, he did,” she said dusting cookie crumbs from her ample bosom.

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “You should be happy for yourself and everyone else in this town. I know Stan and Cole have had their differences, but they both want this town to grow and thrive together. They’ll get that mine up and running.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they will,” she said honestly. She doubted there was anything Cole couldn’t accomplish if he set his mind to it.

  Mrs. Applegate reached for a third cookie. “You look pale as a ghost.”

  Rebecca set the uneaten gingerbread down on the table. “I’m just tired. Have you seen Bess?”

  “Not lately. Saw her talking with the sheriff an hour or so ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know what you’re worried about,” the older woman said in a hushed voice.

  “Really?”

  “The marriage night.”

  “I’ve been married before,” she said feigning an indifference she didn’t quite feel. She’d have preferred to talk to Bess about such intimate matters, but her friend was nowhere to be found. She wondered if she could solicit advice from Mrs. Applegate.

&
nbsp; “I’ve often wondered what the big fuss is all about.”

  “That’s because you married that pompous Curtis. Tonight, you’ll be sleeping with a real man.”

  Rebecca felt the color rising in her cheeks. There was something about Cole that was larger than life, frightening almost. He stood among a group of men, holding Mac in one arm and Dusty at his side. He stood tall and straight, his gaze sure and direct.

  The persistent yearning that always pestered her when he was around, returned. She studied his long, lean hands, imagining them on her naked body. She thought about lying under his muscular form, the sweat of their two bodies mingling.

  Her mouth went bone dry. Mrs. Applegate was right. One way or another, after she and Cole made love, she knew she’d never be the same. Her insides turned to jelly and her knees wobbled. Tonight wasn’t going to be anything like her first wedding night.

  “Mrs. Applegate, about tonight. I mean, I want it to be special.”

  “It will, dear.”

  “How can I be sure?”

  The old woman met her with knowing eyes. “Give in to your heart. Instinct will guide you.”

  “I was never sure what to do with Curtis.”

  “Cole will be different.”

  She imagined his hands threading through her hair. Her insides quivered and her knees nearly buckled.

  Mrs. Applegate had told her to follow her instincts. Well, right now, instinct told her to run.

  * * *

  Cole hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Rebecca since the moment she’d stepped out onto the landing at the top of the stairs—a vision with the ring of flowers nestled in her hair, her lips parted and full and her blue eyes wide. A fairy princess.

  Five hours ago when he’d demanded this marriage, he’d not thought past protecting his rights as a father. Now that his fury had cooled, all he could see was Rebecca.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her and the way her dress clung to her narrow waist and her full breasts.

  Mac squirmed in Cole’s arms. The child stretched his hands out to Rebecca and strained his body toward her. Cole had to hold on with both hands so the child didn’t flip out of his arms.