Rough Wrangler, Tender Kisses

by Jill Gregory

  Suddenly her eyes flew open. Cigar smoke. She smelled it—the same exact scent she’d noticed that first day when she’d entered Reese’s office. She smelled it now in this wide-open space that held his grave.

  “Papa?” she whispered wonderingly.

  And suddenly she knew. Reese was there with her somehow. For one long dreamlike moment she felt his presence, felt a sense of healing forgiveness and love flow through her, felt a tender embrace that seemed to shimmer all around her.

  “Papa, I love you,” she breathed and a sense of joy burst through her heart. The next instant she was on her feet, shaking.

  Go to Wade. Now. He needs you.

  She didn’t hear the words. She felt them. Felt them inside her bones, speaking to her heart. She whirled and ran, straight back to the ranch house.

  She collided on the porch with Nick, who was just charging out through the front door.

  “What’s happened?” she cried, her eyes wide and frantic.

  “He’s awake. He’s asking for you—I was just coming to look for—”

  She tore past him before he could finish. Nick pounded up the stairs after her.

  When she reached the doorway, Clint was standing by the bedside, a grin as wide as Wyoming on his handsome face—and Wade was sitting up. He looked rumpled and pale and weary—and somehow older. But never more beautiful, at least not to her. For a moment she couldn’t move, could only breathe a silent prayer of thankfulness, as she sought to take in this miracle.

  “Well—it took you long enough—Wade Barclay, I nearly went out of my mind!” Flying to the edge of the bed, she clutched his hand.

  His eyes were clear and keen as he studied her face. “You weren’t worried about me . . . were you . . . princess . . .”

  “Of course not.” She was laughing, squeezing his hand, trying to contain the boundless love that welled in her heart and glowed from her eyes, even as she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, not even minding that the stubble on his jaw scraped her face. “Why would I worry my head about an arrogant, stubborn, infuriating man like you?” she whispered, a catch in her throat.

  “She only sat here hour after hour and nearly starved herself to death the past week,” Clint commented dryly, but he was grinning so broadly his jaw must have hurt.

  “Past . . . week?” Wade still hadn’t taken his eyes off Caitlin. Her face was flushed with happiness but he still could see the shadow of a bruise on her cheek and it made him long to shoot Dominic Trent all over again. “I been here in this bed . . . for a whole week?”

  “That’s right, lazybones.” Nick strode forward and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “And none of us are too damned happy about it either. We’ve had to do all your work—and try to take care of your lady when all she wanted to do was stay right by your side. Can’t see why she would,” he added, “since you’ve done nothing but groan and sleep and act like a damned invalid, and a coyote could show a woman a better time—but there’s no accounting for taste, is there, big brother?”

  His twinkling eyes belied his grumbling tone, and Wade gave a snort of laughter.

  “Speaking of . . . running the ranch, little brothers, don’t you two have some work you need to do? I want to be alone with . . . my lady.”

  Clint clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle shake. “Reckon that can be arranged—if the lady’s agreeable.”

  “Quite agreeable.” Caitlin’s eyes shone as she gazed into Wade’s.

  Both Clint and Nick saw the looks passing between them and their grins widened. “Course, I could stay a little longer and sing some more,” Clint offered, “since that’s what woke you up—”

  “Braying.” Wade reached out and touched one of Caitlin’s curls, pale gold in the sunlight. “Your damned braying could wake the dead . . . and I was nowhere near dead. I got me too much living still to do.”

  “Reckon we ought to let little Becky know that,” Nick commented. “She’s been peeping in and out of here like a scared little rabbit for days. And Francesca—reckon she’ll want to rustle you up some grub mighty quick so you can get your strength back.”

  “I’ve got enough strength to take on both of you—if you don’t clear out of here pretty damn quick,” Wade warned, but a slow grin played around the corners of his mouth and his brothers chuckled as they stepped into the hall and closed the door behind them.

  Caitlin felt joy sweeping through every part of her as Wade stroked her hair.

  “I’m not dreaming, am I, princess? You look too damned beautiful to be real.”

  “I look like yesterday’s rags and you know it.” She leaned forward, mindful of the bandage across his chest, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. His arms came around her, holding her gently close to him.

  “Oh, Wade. You scared me to death. I was so afraid I’d lose you—”

  “Not a chance.” Though his voice sounded rough and scratchy, it was no longer as weak as it had been when he first awakened. His eyes gleamed into hers with a determined intensity. “It’s going to take more than a bullet to make me leave you. Or to let you just walk away. I’ve got no intention of losing you, Caitlin.”

  “Not a chance,” she promised with a smile. “I’m sticking around. You see, I’ve got too much at stake here. If I left, who’d catch all your arithmetic errors? I can’t afford to let this place slide into the red due to sloppy . . . Wade!”

  He crushed her to him, and caught her chin in his hand.

  “G-goodness, you have a lot of strength for a man who just woke up from a week of fever and with a bullet wound in his chest. Doesn’t it hurt? I should really let you rest and maybe eat some broth—”

  “Nothing hurts when you’re here with me, Caitlin. You got that? So promise me you’ll never leave.”

  “Only if you promise to marry me as soon as you’re well.”

  His hold on her tightened. “I’ll marry you tomorrow, if you want.”

  “You will not, Wade Barclay.” Eyes dancing, she pushed her lower lip out in a pout. “I want a proper wedding right here in our front parlor—and I demand a healthy groom.”

  “I’m plenty healthy.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” she murmured, smiling dreamily into his eyes. “In a day or so I’ll decide when you might be up to the rigors of a wedding . . . and a honeymoon.”

  His eyes lit up at the word. Then narrowed on her. “Bossy as hell,” he muttered and his hand fell from her chin. “Never thought I’d end up falling in love with a bossy woman. Heaven help me.”

  Heaven, Caitlin thought, and once again sensed that healing love surrounding her. “Wade—” She broke off. He looked tired. He needed rest. Now wasn’t the time to tell him about Reese, about what she’d experienced today at her father’s grave, about Winnifred, the letters, any of it. There would be plenty of time to tell him everything, to sort it all out together. Plenty of time to tell each other everything in their hearts.

  They’d have the rest of their lives.

  “This bossy woman is ordering you to rest,” she whispered, and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve spent quite enough time looking after everyone else, it’s my turn to look after you.”

  “Guess I could get used to that.” That slow heartrending grin made her stomach flip as it always did, and she laughed softly in pure joy. “Guess I could get used to most everything about you, Caitlin Summers. So it’s a good thing you’re going to be hanging around.”

  “A very good thing,” she agreed as Wade’s eyes closed and he gave a sigh of slow, weary contentment. “Because you’re stuck with me now, Wade—like it or not.”

  “I reckon I do like it.” His hand covered hers and their fingers clasped tightly. “Because it just so happens I love you. A whole helluva lot.”

  Suddenly the future looked as bright and wide open and spectacular as the brilliant Wyoming sky.

  “Well, what do you know?” Caitlin whispered happily. “It just so happens that I love you back.” />
  Epilogue

  The wedding came off without a hitch.

  Surrounded by friends and family, Caitlin Summers married Wade Barclay in the parlor of Cloud Ranch on a glorious June day. While puffy white clouds drifted in the vast jewel-blue sky beyond the parlor window where the guests were assembled, and birds warbled in the trees, and the wind played along the tall grass and sagebrush, Caitlin floated down the staircase feeling as if she were living in an exquisite dream. Except she felt too alive, too happy to be dreaming.

  In her glossy white satin gown trimmed with tiny pink silk roses, wearing dainty white satin slippers, and holding a bouquet of pink roses in her hands, Caitlin looked to Wade more than ever like an angel. He could swear she actually shimmered in the morning sunlight that poured in the windows of the ranch, and he nearly forgot to concentrate on the preacher’s words as he became caught up in the golden-haired, sensuous beauty about to become his wife.

  All her thick pale hair was magnificently curled, held in place by a mother-of-pearl comb that looked almost like a crown, and from which a lacy veil floated—and which he found himself looking forward to removing later—as he would slowly and delightedly remove every other exquisite thing she wore.

  With her cheeks flushed a delicate pink and her eyes glowing like stars she spoke her vows before Preacher Thompson, their friends and family, and the love shining from her eyes dazzled her groom so that he nearly forgot to speak his.

  But at a nudge from his brother Nick, and a meaningful ahem from his brother Clint, both of them serving as best men in the ceremony, he recalled himself with a start and solemnly promised to love, honor, and cherish the woman who owned his heart.

  Edna Weaver dabbed at her eyes as she watched them together. Her husband Seth squeezed her shoulder. Francesca smiled through the tears that streamed unabashedly down her olive cheeks as she thought how happy Senor Reese would be if he could see them on this day.

  All of the wranglers were there, their hats clutched respectfully in their hands, their gazes both envious and fond as they studied the wedding couple. Reese’s lawyer, Abner McCain, sighed to himself as he beheld the bride, and the ladies of the Hope Sewing Circle smiled at the thought of the pale blue and white wedding quilt they would soon present to Mr. and Mrs. Wade Barclay.

  Winnifred Dale was not in attendance—she had decided two weeks earlier to leave the town of Hope and reside permanently with her sister in Iowa, whom she’d visited when the Campbell gang had been terrorizing the town. Before she left, Caitlin had driven to Hope to see her.

  She told Winnifred that she forgave her. The woman wept, and whispered that it was more than she deserved. Unsure about that, Caitlin only knew that she didn’t want to live the rest of her life carrying anger or animosity in her heart toward anyone.

  She wanted peace, contentment, happiness—and love.

  Wade had showed her how to find those things. He’d made her life a joy. And Becky’s too. When Caitlin had first told her sister about the wedding plans and invited her to be the flower girl, the prospect of staying on at Cloud Ranch “forever and ever” had made Becky dance with joy. Wyoming suited her, and so did Cloud Ranch. She and Dawg and the Morgensen twins had become inseparable friends—and she confided to Caitlin that Wade was the best big brother she could ever have hoped for. So Caitlin wasn’t surprised when she caught a swift glimpse of her sister’s face as the preacher announced that the groom could now kiss the bride, and Wade lifted the veil. The sad, timid little girl who had existed so miserably in the halls of the Davenport Academy was watching the bride and groom with dancing eyes, and grinning from ear to ear.

  Then Wade had taken Caitlin in his arms and she hadn’t seen or heard or remembered anyone else—the moment his lips touched hers the world spun away and there was only the two of them and sweet, simple joy as they held each other, kissed, laughed—joining lips and dreams and hearts.

  Luanne Porter watched them with quiet pleasure, her hand tucked tightly into that of Jake Young. Just before the wedding began, Jake whisked her out back and proposed beneath a willow tree. He looked at her the way no man had ever looked at her before—with all of his hopes in his eyes and enough love to last them two lifetimes— and Luanne threw her arms around him and said yes. That she and Jake found each other through disappointment and unrequited love made their love for one another all the more magical. It made the gift they’d both been given all the more meaningful. They felt no envy toward the very obvious joy that haloed Caitlin and Wade—they knew that joy themselves and shared in it gladly.

  And just as the room erupted into chuckles and applause because the marriage kiss seemed to go on forever—and Caitlin and Wade broke apart, laughing— Caitlin felt a warm shiver down her spine. Once again she sensed that healing, loving presence she’d felt at Reese’s grave—once again she caught the faint familiar whiff of cigar smoke that drifted on the air for a moment and then vanished.

  She knew down to her soul that Reese was happy for them, and satisfied that the little girl he had lost so long ago, whose picture he had kept on his mantel, had at last come home.

  She’d come home and married the boy he’d taken in and raised as his own son, the boy who’d grown into such a splendid man. A man to be trusted through thick and thin, a man she could count on for all of her days.

  Thank you, Papa—for bringing me here, giving me my home—and for leading me to Wade, she thought silently just before the crowd of guests converged upon her and Wade and enveloped them in a sea of good wishes.

  There was wedding cake and champagne, toasts to the happy couple, and dancing—and then the guests went away and the lovely day ended and the beautiful white moon rose in a sable sky.

  And Caitlin and Wade retired to his high-ceilinged bedroom at the end of the hall and she found a ribbon-wrapped box upon the bed.

  “It’s your wedding gift,” he told her as she looked at him questioningly, and her white satin skirt rustled as she stepped forward and lifted the lid.

  Inside was a hat—not just any hat, but quite the most beautiful creation Caitlin had ever seen. A confection of pink and lavender ribbons and creamy yellow roses, bedecked with shimmering pearls and a wide orchid silk bow. It nestled in its velvet-lined box like a perfect and irresistible jewel.

  “Wade! It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, lifting it out of the box and gazing at it from every fetching angle. “Wherever did you get it?”

  “Paris.” He grinned smugly at her gasp of astonishment, looking so handsome still in his elegant black coat, white lawn shirt, and string tie that she couldn’t tear her eyes from him. “Nell Hicks managed to get her hands on a fancy New York catalog and . . . oh, hell, it doesn’t matter.”

  He took a step toward her. “Reckon I just wanted to make up to you for the first time we met—when that pretty hat of yours landed in the horse trough.”

  “The day you walked away from me,” she reminded him.

  “And nearly made the biggest mistake of my life.” Wade lifted her up, the hat still clutched in her hand, and swung her around in a circle until she gasped with dizzy laughter, then he paused and cradled her against his chest. “I’ll never walk away from you again, Caitlin.”

  “Promise?”

  “Word of honor.”

  Word of honor. Those words had meaning for her again—because of Wade. Because of the man he was.

  She laid her hand tenderly across his cheek.

  “Shall I try it on?” she asked, glancing down at the hat. Wade shook his head. He set her gently upon the bed, took the hat from her, and tossed it onto a chair.

  “Nope.” He shoved the box onto the floor and then, grinning, pushed Caitlin down across the coverlet. The white satin rustled provocatively beneath him as he covered her body with his own, and then he spread her hair out with his fingers and gazed down into her lovely, smiling face, his own eyes glinting.

  “This isn’t a time for trying things on—it’s a time for taking things off.” His voice was
husky in the moonlight that streamed in the window. He grinned down at her and Caitlin felt herself tingling with a heady anticipation almost too much to bear.

  His mouth came down, paused an inch from hers.

  Her own lips parted.

  “Pretty as this dress is, what’s underneath is prettier. Reckon we’ll start with that.” His fingers found the dainty pearl buttons at her bodice and made short work of them.

  “If you insist,” Caitlin murmured, already halfway through the buttons on his shirt, even as her other arm curled around his neck and pulled him down to her kiss.

  They kissed and made love slowly, hungrily, by the light of the moon. The beautiful clothes lay scattered, the dark moments of night slid by, and they gave themselves up to the passion and the fury—and the love. There was tenderness and there was fire, blissful pleasure and agonizing need. But most of all, love.

  When their bodies were slick with sweat and trembling, they collapsed and slept at last in each other’s arms—and awoke to happiness in the pale lilac glow of dawn.

  Dawg was barking—Becky was laughing somewhere off near the barn, and horses were whinnying.

  Cloud Ranch, Caitlin thought as Wade tenderly kissed her and her heart soared. I’m home.

  About the Author

  USA Today–bestseller Jill Gregory is the award-winning author of sixteen historical romances. Her novels have been translated and published in Japan, Russia, Norway, Taiwan, Sweden, and Italy. Jill grew up in Chicago and received her bachelor of arts degree in English from the University of Illinois. She has a college-age daughter and currently resides in Michigan with her husband.

  Jill invites her readers to visit her Web site at http://members.aol.com/jillygreg.

  Dell Books by Jill Gregory