She swiped at the tears on her face, her heart breaking for Angus and his loss. Suddenly, Clara became aware how quiet the campsite had become.
“My Lord, Angus. How late is it?” She looked at his wrist to see if he had his watch on him.
He pulled his pocket watch out. “It’s ten thirty.”
Clara jumped up, putting a hand to her neck.
Dear Lord, it’s guaranteed the women will gossip now.
“Oh, Angus. This isn’t good. I’ve been in here too long.”
“Clara, sit.” When she continued to stand staring at him, he barked louder. “Now.”
“Don’t yell at me, Angus.” How dare he yell at her when she was only concerned about their reputation?
“Who do you think you’re talking to, girl?” He stood now too, lowering his voice and whispering, which seemed much more frightening than his raised voice. “Sit, Clara. While you still can.”
Her bottom quickly met the cot, she looked up at his hulking form standing over her. “Care to explain why you’re so panicked?”
“No. I’m fine.” She brushed at her skirt. He’d dismiss what she had to say anyway.
“Stand up.” She stood hesitantly, gasping when he jerked her by her elbow and landed two crisp swats to her bottom. “Talk to me.”
She fought the urge to rub her bottom. How his hand could still hurt this much even through her skirts, she would never understand. “The women… will talk. They’ll be whispering while we’re bathing or walking tomorrow. Or even worse, they’ll be quiet and not speaking at all — as women do.”
“So. Ignore them. What we do is none of their business.”
She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.
“Girl, don’t roll your eyes at me unless you want more of those swats I just gave you.” She didn’t, so she nodded at him quietly. “I like you, Clara, and I like the girls. I’d like to see where this will go, but I think we’ll be moving quickly. It kinda feels like maybe this is more than just luck, like there’s been a divine intervention of sorts. Does that make sense to you? Or is it just me?”
Clara had been thinking this for the past couple days, but had been afraid to feel it let alone form it into words. “I’ve thought the same thing. Do you think it’s too soon?”
“How? Yesterday you were going to marry a man you’d never met. I’ve known you for almost two months now.”
That was the cold, honest truth. She had been prepared to marry a stranger, yet she found herself hesitating with Angus. After listening to his story and how his family died, she had no doubt in her mind as to the type of father and husband he would be to her and the girls.
“I guess, you’re right. I didn’t know Eugene at all. The girls have grown so fond of you — and I have too.”
He enveloped her small hand in his; it felt like the whole of her hand fit into his huge palm. “How about we look for a preacher in the morning and get hitched? Will you marry me, Clara?” He dropped to his knee, kissing the top of her hand. “I know it feels quick, but I believe this union will be blessed. I promise to be the best husband and father I can be.”
“Yes! Yes, Angus. I’ll marry you!” She threw her arms around his neck as he rose in front of her. He picked her up, spinning her in circles.
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.” He kissed her forehead, tilting her chin, pressing her lips to his, the touch soft and feathery. Then with a fevered inhale, he plundered her mouth, kissing her roughly, drawing her closer to his body. She moaned and his tongue slipped into her mouth, poking and rubbing the inside of her. The material of her corset felt rough against her suddenly hard nipples. His hands cupped her bottom, and he pulled her close, growling in her mouth, his hands raking through her long hair, tightly gripping it in his fists, the tugs on her scalp igniting her passion.
He pulled away, sighing in frustration. He traced gentle, slow kisses down her neck, her collar bone, working his way back up to her mouth. She looked at his face — he was so handsome, the dark hair and his dark eyes now hooded with arousal. It was then that she realized the intensity of his stare, almost too intense.
“What? Why are you looking at me that way? I know… I’m not young and beautiful anymore. I’ve been through a lot, so I look worn and—”
He pulled her to his chest and swatted her bottom several times. “If you speak like that again, I’ll spank your backside. Do you hear me? You’re beautiful and I’ll make sure you know it every day.” Then he covered her mouth with his, his lips soft and sensual. This time he kissed slowly and softly, her belly flipping, her sex throbbing with need. He jerked away from her. “We need to stop. I can’t keep going like this.”
His hand raked through his hair. “I gotta get you to bed. We’ll be up early tomorrow, telling everyone about the wedding and you becoming Missus Angus.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”
“What is your last name, Angus?”
“Warren. Angus Warren.”
“Clara Warren,” she whispered. “I like the sound of it.”
He chuckled. “Good, cuz I can’t see myself having a different name.” He pecked her on the lip, then her forehead, his hands cupping her head gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”
As suspected, the women were sound asleep. The only person who awoke as they approached was Sam and he just tipped his finger at Angus like he’d tipped his imaginary hat on his head. A silent acknowledgment.
Once he had her tucked into her bedroll, Angus stroked his knuckles down the side of her face. “See you in the morning, my beautiful bride.”
She felt almost giddy. The thrill of being in love.
Chapter Eight
Angus put on his white dress shirt — or at least something that resembled one. He didn’t exactly come prepared with his Sunday best for the Widow Wagon. A white shirt usually had been good enough for a funeral or meeting with someone important in a town. He never in his wildest dreams thought he’d be getting married during one of his journeys though. He saw his job as taking women to their new spouses, protecting them and guiding them until they could find their happily-ever-afters. He’d assumed having one happy marriage would last him a lifetime.
But when confronted with Clara’s situation, he had to admit that he’d become very fond of her and the girls. She didn’t have the sassiness or bratty behavior of Minnie or Daisy — and he couldn’t thank God enough for that. He never minded a little spunk and sassy behavior now and then, but overall, he wanted a woman who willingly submitted. A woman with a little spunk could cause just enough ruckus to ensure that life would never be dull — and it would afford him the opportunity to have a few good discipline sessions. He loved having a woman over his lap. He never liked being the cause of her tears, yet he found himself fascinated with how his body responded to them.
He stepped out of the tent. It had be another warm day in Wyoming. This would put them back another day or two, but he couldn’t be happier about it. The women had taken it well. He saw a bit of a scowl on Minnie’s face, but she’d straightened it up when he directed a raised eyebrow her way.
He walked past the wagon, the women laughing and giggling inside, presumably getting Clara ready for the wedding. He walked toward the gathering of buildings at the trading post. Just past them a small white church had been built for occasions such as this. Apparently, it had become a necessity as a major stop on the Oregon Trail. Between funerals, baptisms, and marriages, the town decided that the preacher needed an appropriate setting for performing such ceremonies.
The church was so new, it still smelled of fresh paint. He climbed up the freshly painted steps, walking into the cool of the church. The preacher stepped down the steps of the altar to meet Angus walking up the aisle.
“Jonas Barnes. It’s a beautiful day to get married,” the preacher said, greeting him with a handshake. The man’s grip was firm, someone who worked the land and didn’t just preach. Angus could appreciate that. He liked a hardwork
ing man.
“Angus Warren. I didn’t think I’d ever find myself marrying again after my family died. As far as I’m concerned today — the day I marry again — would be a great day even if there was a blizzard or a hailstorm.”
“Amen, Angus. Sorry about the family.” The preacher clapped him on the shoulder. “How’d you lose ‘em?”
“Influenza.” Angus wondered how long it would take before he’d be able to say that without tears welling in his eyes. “Clara’s a widow too. So both of us are getting a chance at happiness again. Her girls are sweet and I’ll be proud to be their father.”
“A woman out west without a husband is a bad combination.” Jonas shook his head. “I’m glad you found each other on the Widow Wagon. It’s a great service that Charles provides, not only for the widows, but also for the men who need a helpmate — or maybe something more — out here in this harsh land.”
“Yes, Sir. It’s been a help to everyone. I never envisioned benefitting from it myself though. I just thought I was doing a service. But I’m glad.”
It was at that moment that Nelly and Rose burst through the door, both girls with daisy garlands and pretty white ribbons in their hair.
“Mister Angus!” They ran down the aisle, and he squatted, scooping up a girl in each arm, kissing their soft necks.
“I’m not sure who these beautiful young ladies are! Do I know you?” Angus furrowed his eyebrows, looking back and forth at the girls as if he’d never seen them before.
“Mister Angus! It’s me, Rose. Remember? You buy me candy sticks, the grape ones.”
“Rose... hmm, Rose. Oh, you mean Rose Pickett? That little girl who’s usually running around with dirt on her hands and nose? I remember her. But you, young lady, do not look like my Rose.”
She scowled at him, her little nose scrunched up. “That’s not nice. It’s me. Should I go and put some dirt on my face?”
“Oh, no! Don’t you do that — your ma will skin us both alive,” he said, grinning at them. “I know who you girls are, and you both look lovely — like grown women.”
“I certainly would skin you alive,” a familiar, gentle voice said from the back of the pews. “Don’t either of you get dirty though. And don’t you encourage them!”
Clara.
She looked like a dream. Daisies weaved through her golden blonde locks, just as the girls had. She had a dress he’d never seen on her before. Nothing fancy, but of pale turquoise color with small white flowers, that made her eyes look as blue as the Wyoming sky. Apparently, she’d brought Sunday clothes along with her too. One of the other women must have had makeup, because Clara’s cheeks and lips were painted a pale rosy pink. She looked... stunning.
She’d walked up to him, with all the women of the Widow Wagon and many others filing into the church too, following her up the aisle. Fellow pioneers — and what looked like women from the town not wanting to miss a wedding — began to fill up the empty pews.
Angus grabbed her hand, her soft, silky skin so pale it was almost translucent, and pulled her closer, whispering. “You look like a dream, sweetheart. I can hardly wait to get my hands on you.” He kissed her just under her ear, then turned his attention back to the preacher. “Let’s do this, Jonas.”
Angus wasn’t sure how he got through the ceremony; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her and the thought of her skin gleaming by candlelight distracted him mercilessly. Then he felt a small hand slip into his, and he looked down to see Rose beaming up at him, those little dimples showing. He could get lost in those deep blue eyes of Clara’s, noting the way the past two months of walking in the sun had brought out a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was beautiful, with just a smidgen of adorable — and he couldn’t be happier. He startled when a small arm wrapped around his waist, Nelly tucking herself into his side, eyes closed like a contented kitten.
Before he knew it, the ceremony had ended and they were now husband and wife, the preacher beaming at them. “You may kiss the bride.”
Angus pulled her to him, her soft lips melding under his as he slowly savored her soft, yielding mouth. They stopped quickly when a chorus of “Ewwwww!” erupted from the girls. Laughing, they all held hands as they left the church, stepping out into the bright, warm July day. A new beginning.
Life had been breathed into what he thought was dead. God couldn’t bring back his family, but he’d restored what Angus had lost. He had a wife and two little girls again. He had been devoted and caring the first time around, and would continue to be — but this time he had the added lesson of loss.
Time and people were both fleeting and never guaranteed. It had been a harsh lesson, and not one he’d ever forget.
Chapter Nine
The day had been more than she could have imagined. It seemed odd that she had actually contemplated marrying a stranger, but what was a woman to do all alone with two girls? As a schoolteacher, Eugene would have been a good father, but she doubted he could have been as attentive and caring as Angus.
They had played with Angus all afternoon. He’d set up a game of baseball with the kids, finding a long stick and a large ball of yarn from the mercantile. It had been makeshift, but the kids loved it. Soon enough, it became hard to tell who was enjoying themselves more — the little kids or the grown men.
All tuckered out, the women put the children to bed early and quiet descended over the camp. An occasional coyote could be heard in the distance, but rest came early on the plains. The sky was so clear at night. She was certain there had to be a million stars dotting the heavens overhead. A year ago she would never have dreamed she’d find herself halfway across the country, witnessing sights and doing things unheard of in Vincennes, Indiana. More than that though, was the fact that she’d remarried — and feeling happy and excited about the prospect — something she never thought she’d experience ever again.
“C’mon, girl. I’ve been waiting for this. Time for us adults — finally.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, her face flushing hot as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Though far from being an innocent — she was a widow after all — it still felt strange to think about being naked and doing that with anyone other than Matt.
They’d enjoyed sex, she supposed, as much as any other couple she knew. But it hadn’t been the focal point of their marriage. It was... necessary. Something you did once a week, like the laundry. She never understood how women at the saloon would do this with strangers — or even other womens’ husbands. It didn’t seem enjoyable enough to do it for money or pleasure. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually felt pleasure from performing the act.
So, in this new marriage she would continue as planned. She’d close her eyes and just wait until he finished and then roll over and go to sleep. She wondered if she might end up with a baby. He didn’t have an empty cradle, so there was a possibility of having a child.
He pulled the flap of the tent back for her, and when she stepped inside she gasped. Nothing prepared her for the work he had done in preparation of the event.
There were lit candles everywhere. Candles in cups, candles on plates, candles in ornate metal holders. A couple oil lanterns had also been lit, lending even more illumination. He’d even suspended a couple candles from the top of the tent. The golden light banished the shadows to the outer edges of the tent, washing everything in a warm, amber glow.
“Angus, this is… just incredible. How did you have time to do this?” She spun around, taking it all in. He’d made a bed on the floor with pillows covered with linens.
“I tried. The hotel manager wanted me to stay at the hotel. But I didn’t want to waste money, and I wanted us to start here, the place where we’ll be staying each night of our journey. It’s our little home away from home.” He shrugged, looking around blushing a little. “So, they gave me some linens, blankets and extra pillows to make a bed. The manager said I can keep ‘em too so we’ll have a bed in this tent.”
“It looks nice, Angus.”
She was at a loss for words as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to rest against his chest. His hands went to her breasts, fondling them comfortably and naturally. He pushed his hips to her buttocks, his hard cock pressed up against her cleft. She fought the urge to rub against it. He trailed soft kisses up her neck, licking the inside of her ear, her clit sparking into throbbing life. Her breathing increased, her heart beating faster.
He eased her forward a bit. “You have way too many clothes on. Let me get you out of these.” His hand expertly began undoing the buttons of her dress, while he pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders.
“It’s like spun gold. I love these curls.” He pulled on one, letting it spring back as if he was playing with a new toy.
“It’s too curly and unruly.” She pulled at the locks, tossing them over her shoulder.
“You’ll be wearing it down more often. I like seeing those curls running down your back.” He pushed her dress over her shoulders, and it dropped in a puddle at her feet. She stepped out of the mound of cotton, pulling it up and placing it gently over the cot to keep it from wrinkling. As soon as she righted herself, he wasted no time unlacing the corset, setting it on top of her dress before pulling her chemise over her head, leaving her standing in nothing but her bloomers. She had one fancy pair, with pale peach and blue ribbons, that she reserved for special occasions — and this was definitely that. Angus cupped one of her cheeks with his large hand and squeezed. Hard. She stiffened in response.
He turned her around to face him. “Those are some pretty nice bloomers you have on, Mrs. Warren. I’ll have to see about getting you some more while we’re here.”
Cinch Your Saddle (The Widow Wagon Book 3) Page 7