The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book

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The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book Page 11

by Vanessa Bartal


  Chapter 10

  Cecily’s wedding elation lasted exactly thirty seconds before turning to abject terror.

  “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” Marcus asked.

  She sagged in relief because one more thing now stood between her and her wedding night. All she could think was, I’m not ready for this, and he’s practically a stranger. She felt like she might be sick. If he noticed her hand in his was trembling, he was too polite to comment. He did run a soothing hand down her back, so he must have sensed some of her fear.

  “Relax,” he whispered. He put his arm around her and pulled her to rest against him. They rode in comfortable silence and she was disappointed when they reached the restaurant. She thought she could stay in Marcus’s arms forever. Reluctantly, she ripped herself away and allowed the limo driver to help her from the car.

  “You sure know how to treat a lady, Marcus,” Cecily said when they were seated inside the seedy looking hot dog joint.

  He frowned and looked around at the place with fresh eyes. “I’m sorry. I came here last time I was in town and enjoyed it. We’ll go someplace nicer.” He would have stood but she grabbed his hand and tugged him back down.

  “I was teasing you. This looks more like my kind of place. I’m a fan of hot dogs and out of the way restaurants.”

  “Me too,” he said. They shared a smile, glad to have one thing in common.

  The silence at supper was awkward, but Cecily chalked it up to nerves, at least on her part.

  “This is sort of our first date,” Marcus said when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. He smiled.

  “You have a dimple.” She touched her finger to his cheek. His hair was sandy blond, and his eyes were dark blue. He looked like a Ken doll.

  “You have two.” He touched both his index fingers to her cheeks. “And twelve names.”

  She chuckled. “The Spanish part of me had to come out somewhere. We Spanish like our names.”

  “My wife is exotic.” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m your wife,” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, you are. Are you sad about that?”

  “No,” she said. She picked up his hand and squeezed it. “Surprised. Yesterday we weren’t even dating.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ve never done anything this impulsive before.”

  “I’ve done lots of impulsive things, but I’ve been trying to outgrow my old ways.”

  “I like you,” he said.

  “I should hope so. You married me,” she said.

  “No, I mean I really like you.” He brushed her hair off her face. “You’re fun and spunky, passionate and interesting. You can’t imagine my surprise that day we kissed. It was like my blinders were removed, and I really saw you for the first time. All these years, you’ve been right under my nose, and I didn’t even know.”

  She smiled, charmed by his sweet words. “Those things you listed are first impressions. I hope you still like me when you get to know me better.”

  “We’ve known each other for twenty years,” Marcus said. “How many skeletons do you think we have hiding in our closets?”

  “You know me, but you don’t know me,” she leaned close and lowered her voice.

  He leaned forward so they sat elbow to elbow across from each other. “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

  She closed the gap between them and kissed him, not caring who saw.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She froze, all of her bravado fleeing. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

  He smiled. “Come on, we’ll take it slowly. You’ll be fine.”

  She nodded and stood, but she still bit her lip and tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. Was every woman this afraid on her wedding night, or was it because Marcus was a relative stranger? She had kissed him fewer times than she could count on two hands, and now she was going to be as intimate with him as two people could be.

  The short drive to their hotel was once again awkward, but this time neither of them tried to relieve the awkwardness.

  Marcus paid a bellhop to carry their bags to their room and then they were alone with the large bed looming in front of them.

  “I think I’m supposed to change my clothes now,” Cecily said, hating the way her voice quavered nervously.

  “It’s our honeymoon, you can do whatever you want,” Marcus said. His tone was reassuring and she took a deep breath.

  “I want to change,” she said.

  “All right. I’ll change, too.”

  She nodded and dragged her suitcase into the bathroom with her. If her hair and makeup weren’t perfect from her time at the salon, she would shower, but she didn’t want to mess up what the stylists had worked so hard to create. Instead she freshened up in the sink, brushed her teeth twice, touched up her makeup, and changed into the beautiful lingerie Angela had picked out for her. It was a creamy white concoction that barely covered her and yet still managed to look classy.

  I can do this, she told herself. Countless generations of women had done this before her. It was no big deal. If it’s no big deal, why do you feel like you’re going to throw up, she wondered, and then pushed the thought away. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them and stepped through the door.

  Marcus was lying on the bed. He had stripped down to his boxer shorts and he was watching a game on television. Whatever the game was it wasn’t enough to hold his interest, because as soon as he heard the door, he snapped off the television and looked at Cecily.

  He sat up and opened his arms to her and she stumbled forward.

  “You look like something from a dream,” he told her. He put his arms around her and dragged her across him so she was lying on the bed beside him. “I’ve always thought you were a beautiful girl, but today I know for certain you are the loveliest woman I have ever seen.” He reverently caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  “You’ve always thought I was beautiful?” she asked in a small, scared voice.

  He nodded. “I watched you grow up, remember. I was surprised Mathew didn’t go for you. Maggie’s pretty, but she has nothing on you.”

  She smiled at him.

  “I’m not sure why the possibility of having you for myself didn’t occur to me until recently.”

  “Maybe because until recently it would have been illegal,” she suggested, and giggled when he pinched her waist. He leaned in to kiss her and she stopped giggling.

  “Relax,” he said gently when she trembled beneath him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just a little nervous.”

  “I’m nervous too,” he admitted.

  That surprised her. “Haven’t you done this before?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never been anyone’s first. I want things to go well for you, and it’s sort of awe-inspiring that you’re my wife and that you waited for me.”

  She hadn’t thought of it in those terms. She had waited for her husband in order to make a gift of her body, but she hadn’t recognized the fact that this man beside her was now her husband. He would be the one claiming the gift she was presenting. Clarifying the facts in her mind worked to push away her nerves. She smiled shyly at him as he bent to kiss her again, and this time when she trembled it wasn’t from fear.

 

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