Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  "I don't guess he really had any plans about what to do with me. I think he might've wanted to adopt me or something, in the beginning. He was almost forty, and I wasn't sixteen yet. That first night he took me outside of town to where he was camped. He only had one set of blankets, so we slept together. I thought I knew what he wanted, but he just held me that first night. Then I got scared he'd send me away, so I seduced him. After that, adoption was out of the question, so we got married instead."

  "If you think your wedding was a shock to people, you should have heard folks talk when Sam showed up here with me. I was a feisty little trollop who could swear a blue streak. It took him a while to tame me down and turn me into a lady… or as much of a lady as I'll ever be," she corrected with another grin.

  Felicity was so stunned, she could barely speak. "Why did you tell me all that?" she wondered aloud, certain that Blanche would never have told another person such a story.

  "So you'd understand," Blanche said, kneeling before her in a cloud of burgundy skirts. She took Felicity's hands gently in her own. "Sam tamed me, but he taught me how to love, too. I'd never loved another living soul until I met him. And he loved me, too, me, as bad as I was. Don't you see? If two people can fall in love the way Sam and I did, then you and Joshua can fall in love, too. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it's started already. Why do you think he took you to bed?" Her wise eyes glittered shrewdly, making Felicity look away.

  Felicity wasn't certain if what she felt for Mr. Logan could be called love or not. More than likely, it was simply lust. But she did care about him in a very special way, and that might grow into love under the proper conditions. Of course, she knew Mr. Logan did not love her. He had told her so. "He just did that to make sure I'd marry him," she said.

  "Felicity!" Blanche chastened. "A man doesn't buy the cow if he can get the milk for free! Think about it. He must have been pretty desperate for you to say 'yes' if he seduced you to get that 'yes'! He wants more than just a little roll in the hay. He wanted you for a wife, for always. Why do you suppose he went to such great lengths to make sure you had to marry him?"

  Felicity had never considered this aspect. She voiced the first thought that came to her mind. "He wanted to get married, and I was handy."

  Blanche made a rude noise. "I've known Joshua Logan for twelve years, and he's never wanted to get married, not until you came along. If he had wanted to, there's a hundred women within the sound of my voice he could have had for the asking, myself included. But he never asked, not once. Then he found you and practically forced you into taking him. Now, why do you think that is?"

  Felicity could not think of a reason, so she simply shook her head numbly. All of this was too much to take in all at once.

  "Well, you think about it. Especially think about it while Joshua is making love to you tonight," Blanche advised with a mischievous smile. She rose gracefully to her feet. "Although, now that I think about it, he probably won't get much of a chance. I'll bet the boys have a shivaree planned. They'll probably kidnap either you or Josh so you can't be together tonight. That's a pretty common trick."

  "I doubt they'll do anything like that," Felicity said, glad the topic had changed from such terribly disturbing subjects. "I heard Cookie tell Candace that Mr. Logan had threatened violence to any men who pulled any pranks."

  Blanche sniffed in annoyance. "What fun is a wedding if you can't cause some mischief? Maybe I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

  "Please don't!" Felicity implored, jumping to her feet. She found the prospect of being separated from Mr. Logan even more terrifying than the prospect of being married to him.

  "Don't worry, honey," Blanche assured her. "I won't do anything mean. Maybe I can think of a little something to liven things up, though." With that cryptic remark, she made a swift foray outside to determine if it was time to begin the ceremony.

  The walk from the front porch of the house to where Mr. Logan and the preacher stood out on the hastily constructed dance floor in the middle of the yard was the longest of Felicity's life. The myriad staring faces blurred as she moved by, concentrating only on reaching her goal.

  Blanche Delano's regal figure cut a path through the crowd for her, which she gratefully followed. As if from a distance, Felicity could hear the murmur of voices rolling before her, but she never caught up with it. As she passed, the crowd grew silent. By the time she reached Mr. Logan, an anticipatory hush had fallen over the entire ranch yard.

  Josh could hardly believe the beautiful woman approaching him was the same bedraggled girl he had carried into his house a scant week earlier. How could he ever have mistaken her for a child? She was every inch a woman now, and in every way. His body tingled with the memory of his flesh against hers and with the knowledge that before this day was over, he would know her again. She would be his, completely his. His gaze snagged hers, sending her that silent message, and he thought she faltered slightly as she approached.

  Felicity's heart lurched in her chest. How could he look at her like that in front of all these people? she wondered frantically. What would they think? Would they guess that she was not the virginal bride she should have been, that she should rightfully have worn a dress the color of Blanche's, the one Blanche had jokingly referred to as the dress of a "scarlet woman"?

  In spite of her dismay, she could not help the tremor of reaction that rippled through her at the sight of him standing so tall and straight in the same black suit he had worn for his photograph. He looked like some mythical patriarch with his silver hair glittering in the sunlight and ruffled by the breeze, his handsome face solemn and intent, his gray eyes glowing as if from some inner fire.

  When he reached out to take her hand, the air around her seemed to evaporate, leaving her in a breathless expectancy. The minister prompted her for vows which came from her throat on a feeble thread of sound, in marked contrast to the confidence with which Mr. Logan uttered his. At last the ceremony was over and Mr. Logan bent to kiss her. His lips touched hers chastely and briefly, but when he drew back, his eyes were stormy with desire. She felt a scorching heat, and her body quivered as if he had touched her intimately.

  For the rest of her life, Felicity remembered that day as through a vague mist. The whole event seemed to be happening to someone else. First there were a hundred people coming up to meet her and shake her hand and wish her well on her marriage. A few gentlemen were bold enough to steal a kiss, but only a few. Not many dared defy Mr. Logan's discouraging glare. She was grateful for that.

  Then came the dinner, a feast fit for a king, or so everyone said. Felicity could barely swallow a bite. After that came dancing, all afternoon and into the night. At first Felicity was embarrassed because she did not know how to dance, never having had the opportunity to learn. Her new husband laughed off her concerns, quickly showing her the steps. She was grateful to have something else on which to concentrate when he took her in his arms. Dancing with him, standing so close, touching him with such familiarity left her breathless and disturbed. But, she quickly discovered, she only suffered those symptoms when dancing with her husband. When another man-someone whose name she had forgotten- claimed her for the next dance, she experienced only self-consciousness over moving her feet correctly.

  To her amazement, virtually every man present wanted to partner her for a dance. Only the fact that the fiddlers and the caller took frequent breaks saved her from lameness.

  Oddly, in spite of her popularity and the swarms of people around her at every moment, Felicity never lost sight of her husband. As if some invisible cord bound them, she was constantly aware of his every movement, of the people he spoke to, of the women he danced with, even of how many times he visited the whiskey barrel. Their gazes met frequently, his silver eyes sweeping over the crowd until they found her, and Felicity felt their intensity like a physical touch.

  It was very late when he came to claim her for a waltz. "Are you having a good time?" he asked, drawing her close to the
warmth of his body.

  "Yes," she lied, secretly wishing that all the strangers would disappear.

  "You look tired," he remarked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

  "I am. I… I didn't sleep very well last night. Excitement, I guess," she admitted reluctantly.

  "Would you like to go to bed?"

  Felicity's stomach did a flip-flop. He wanted to go to bed with her. Right now. "Can we? I mean, with all these people here?" she corrected, glad that the soft lights from the lanterns would not reveal her blush.

  But he saw her embarrassment anyway. "No," he chuckled softly. "We can't go anywhere. If they see us sneaking off together, we'll never get away. You can, though. Just pretend you're going to the… uh… little house, and then just keep going."

  "Oh," she said, unbearably disappointed. Now that she was in his arms, she did not want to let him go, not for a moment, and she certainly didn't want to go off to bed by herself. After the long week of struggling against her own emotions as valiantly as she had struggled against his, she was more than ready to give up the battle.

  He chuckled again, pulling her even closer so she could feel his heart pounding against her own. "Don't worry," he assured her in a delicious whisper against her ear, "I'll be along as soon as I can sneak away myself."

  Shivers raced down her back to tingle in secret places. Felicity had to call upon all her willpower to maintain a dignified pose when what she wanted to do was press her mouth to his and make him kiss her the way he had kissed her on the night they had first made love. Desperately needing some reassurance that he felt the same, she pulled away from him slightly so she could see his face.

  "Oh, God," he muttered, his gray eyes glowing. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll carry you off right now in front of everybody."

  Her knees went so weak that she never knew how she had the strength to step away from him when the music ended. By conscious effort, she turned from him and put one foot in front of the other until she was walking in the direction of the outhouse.

  The ranch house was dark and quiet when she entered, the only sound, the rustle of her skirts as she stepped into the front room. For a moment she paused in indecision, prickles of unease and anticipation tingling over her body. She would need to fetch her nightdress from her own bedroom. Should she change in there and then go to Mr. Logan's room or…

  "In here," Candace called from the opposite side of the parlor.

  Felicity looked up to see her standing in the doorway of a room she had never entered. Curiosity drew her. The room was a bedroom, much larger than the other two and furnished with an elegance that seemed out of place on a western ranch. The chestnut hues of the oversize mahogany bedstead and chests gleamed richly in the lamplight. Heavy blue velvet draperies hung at the windows over cream-colored Irish lace, matching the velvet and lace counterpane that lay neatly folded at the foot of the huge feather bed.

  "Whose bedroom is this?" Felicity asked in amazement.

  "This was the room Mr. Josh's parents slept in, at least until Mrs. Logan decided… Well, anyway, it's the master bedroom. This is the room where the master of the Rocking L Ranch should take his bride." Candace stood back, her dark eyes glittering with an emotion Felicity could not name.

  "It's beautiful," Felicity said, glancing around again. Then something else occurred to her. "When did you do all this?" she asked, gesturing to include the freshly ironed sheets on the turned-down bed, the brightly oiled furniture, and the cut flowers gracing the bedside table.

  Candace shrugged modestly. "This afternoon." Before Felicity could respond, she added, "I moved your things over, and Mr. Josh's, too. Here, I'll help you get out of that dress."

  Felicity gratefully accepted Candace's offer, suddenly realizing how very tired she was, so tired that even her previous excitement now seemed blunted. By the time Candace helped her into her nightdress and tucked her into the huge bed, she was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open.

  "Thank you… for everything, Candace," Felicity said as the black woman carefully hung the wedding dress in the enormous wardrobe.

  Candace waved away her gratitude. "I was glad to do it. I was starting to think I'd never get a chance to make up Mr. Josh's marriage bed," she said with a twinkle. Then she came over, closer to where Felicity lay propped up against her pillow. Her face grew grave. "I know Mr. Josh will be good to you tonight, but if he goes too fast, you tell him to slow down. Sometimes men get excited and forget that the woman has feelings, too."

  Felicity nodded, blushing furiously as she realized that Candace did not know what had already happened. What could she think when she found no bloodstains on the sheets tomorrow? Felicity had already scrubbed those stains from her petticoats days ago. She lowered her eyes so Candace would not read her shame.

  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Candace said, patting Felicity's shoulder comfortingly. "It's a natural thing when two people love each other." Felicity watched Candace's ebony hand lightly stroke the golden hair she had left loose at the older woman's insistence. "You do love him, don't you?" Candace asked softly.

  Felicity nodded again, unable to speak around the lump of pain clogging her throat. Yes, she knew it now. She did love him. But how would she ever get him to love her in return?

  As if sensing her anguish, Candace allowed her comforting hand to slip around Felicity's slender shoulders in a small, reassuring hug. "Don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of. My Joshua is a good man. You'll see."

  Felicity closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and allowed Candace to adjust her pillow so she could lie flat. "Good night," she whispered in response to Candace's parting words, aware that Candace had turned the lamp down low in preparation for what she imagined would be the romantic interlude ahead.

  In the darkened room, beneath the silken sheets, Felicity curled herself into a ball of misery. Her feet and legs ached from all the dancing she had done, but that was nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she waited for her husband to come to her. The tingling anticipation she had felt earlier settled into dread. She had almost forgotten how angry he had been with her all week, how often they had quarreled. Was he still angry beneath the courteous facade he had worn for their wedding guests? Would he take that anger out on her?

  Or would this night be as passionate as their first encounter? Would he raise her to the heights of ecstasy once again or use his strength to degrade her? Strangely, she found both possibilities equally terrifying. As much as she would hate his cruelty, she also feared the mindless abandon his touch would elicit, the loss of control and her own feverish need. Thinking back to how she had acted that first time, she hardly recognized herself, hardly credited her own behavior.

  Straining to hear the sound of booted feet approaching, she shifted restlessly beneath the bedclothes, aware that whatever demons her mind might be wrestling, her body still craved his touch. Sighing in resignation at her own uncontrollable desires, she waited.

  Josh opened the door carefully, suspecting that she might be asleep. Sure enough, she was, lying in a tangle of flaxen curls that glittered like gold in the pale light. He closed the door silently behind him, never taking his eyes from her. She was, he realized, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he wanted her in a way he had never wanted another woman, with a need that having her once had only inflamed.

  Swiftly, he stripped off his clothes, heedless of where they fell and only vaguely aware of the room to which Candace had sent him, a room he had not entered in years. Only one thing mattered, holding her and claiming her.

  She lay on her back, one delicate hand resting on her stomach, the other flung up beside her head amidst the gold of her hair. Josh silently cursed the well-wishers who had insisted on toasting his happiness time and again, keeping him from her for almost an hour.

  He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric of her nightdress, so sheer he could see the shadows of her nipples nuzzling again
st the cloth. Desire ripped through him like the hot blade of a knife, making him gasp aloud. She stirred, but did not waken.

  After a moment, when he thought he might be able to move again, he put out the light and slipped into the cushiony softness of the bed beside her. Her fragrance enveloped him in an invisible cloud, stirring his blood, urging him on. He reached for her, gentling his touch with the last shred of his willpower. "Lissy?"

  Felicity responded to her name, emerging slowly from the dark oblivion into awareness equally dark. Robbed of her sight, her other senses grew more acute.

  "Lissy?" a blessedly familiar voice beckoned as callused fingers stroked her cheek in well-remembered intimacy. Warmth surrounded her, his warmth, and with it the musky male scent that she recognized. But when he whispered her name again, she knew something was wrong.

  "You've been drinking," she murmured drowsily, identifying the sickly sweet odor on his breath.

  Josh chuckled at the faint note of censure in her voice. She was acting like a wife already. "Yes," he admitted. "I had to drink some toasts with our guests."

  His words only half registered with her as she came completely awake and realized that she had fallen asleep waiting for him. She was embarrassed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said in confusion. Only after she spoke did she think perhaps this was for the best since now he would not guess how eagerly she had awaited him.

  He chuckled again, a rich, bubbling sound in the darkness. "It's no wonder that you did. You've been in here over an hour."

  An hour! Felicity winced, hearing his previous promise echoing in her mind: "I'll be along as soon as I can." Obviously, he was not nearly as eager for her as she was for him. Her embarrassment became mortification, and all her previous uncertainties came flooding back until she thought she might choke on them. He preferred drinking with his friends to his wife's bed. When his arms slipped around her, she stiffened, turning her face away from his liquored breath. "What the…?" he muttered when his lips encountered her ear. "Where are you?" Humor flavored his question. His own desire blunted his perceptions, and he did not sense her withdrawal. The softness of her body, the scent of her skin inflamed that desire, blotting all other thoughts from his mind. He swept her up, drawing her into the heat.