He nodded to a few patrons, repeated a greeting to one or two others, as he and Annalee strolled to an empty table along the back wall. He’d wanted a lot of things in his life, and had achieved many goals along the way, but nothing had left him with the overall proud and satisfied feeling he held right now.
After assisting her onto a straight-back chair, he settled himself on the one to her left, instead of the chair on the opposite side of the table. This way, rather than the width of the table, only the corner separated them. “What do you recommend?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” she asked with a dreamlike, faraway-sounding voice.
He stared at her beauty until she lifted her eyes. “What do you recommend? I’m sure you’ve eaten here plenty of times.”
Her gaze met his. “Actually, no, I’ve never eaten here.”
“You haven’t?”
She shook her head.
“But I thought you’d lived here your whole life.”
“I have lived in Dodge my whole life, but I’ve never eaten at the Dodge House. Why would I when my house is just down the road?”
“Why indeed,” he said, wishing he’d never asked. Now she’d be thinking about her house again and probably start insisting on living there again. When would he learn to keep his big trap shut?
“You’ve eaten here before, haven’t you?” she asked.
He took a moment to study her eyes. No daggers leaped out at him, and he hoped he saw correctly. “Yes, I’ve eaten here before. The steak’s pretty good.”
“I imagine so, since it’s your beef they’re frying,” she answered.
“If you’ve never eaten here, how would you know it’s my beef they serve?”
She smiled. It was a sly grin, which caused his chest to tingle with warmth. “You’d be amazed, Mr. Severson, what I know about you.”
“Oh?” he asked, but didn’t have a chance to elaborate because a waiter appeared just then. Colt glanced between the young man with a stained apron tied around his waist and Annalee. “Shall I order for you?”
She gave an agreeable nod, and he asked for two of the evening’s specials, knowing, to him anyway, the food would be tasteless compared to the sweetness of her lips.
Regret came a moment later. He should have at least checked the menu, ordered something special, but it was too late now as the waiter had already left. Besides, his mind was still processing her last statement. Turning back to catch her gaze, he asked, “Tell me, what else do you know about me?”
Her brows lifted slightly, and a notion struck him. She was flirting with him. Whether she knew it or not, she was most definitely flirting. He flattened his feet on the floor to keep from floating off his chair.
She settled her chin on the back of one hand, while her elbow rested on the edge of table. “I know you’re a former Texas Ranger, and bought the Highland Ranch from Opal Kappa after her husband Eddie died.”
He nodded. Knowing what she said was common knowledge, he still asked, “Where did you get your information?”
“You, Mr. Severson, have been the topic of conversation at sewing circles across Dodge for the past three years.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“And you attend these sewing circles?”
“Some,” she answered with a slight shrug.
Needing to touch her, he reached over and brushed a finger along the side of her face before he grasped the hand below her chin. Folding the slim fingers within his, he laid their clutched hands on the tabletop. Gently massaging the smooth skin, he asked, “What else do you know about me?”
“That you’re kind to children and animals alike,” she continued. “That you come to town every Wednesday, no matter what the weather. And that you’re a dedicated friend.”
“How would the ladies at the sewing circle know that?”
She shook her head and leaned a bit closer. “They don’t,” she whispered.
Heart pounding, he folded his other hand around their clutched ones and bent over, so their faces were inches apart. “Then how do you?” he asked, low and slow.
So focused on watching her perfect lips move, catching tiny glimpses of snow-white teeth and the tip of her pink tongue, he barely heard her whisper, “From watching you.”
He was feeling things he’d never known existed before. It was as if something had captured his insides. Had she somehow lassoed his heart? For it certainly felt as if there was a tether tugging him across the table. His gaze caught her mouth again. If he tilted sideways, their lips could touch, and he wanted that to happen so badly.
She wet her lips and, mesmerized, he watched as if a miracle was unfolding before his eyes as she spoke. “Every Wednesday, when you ride into town, the first place you stop is the cemetery, to pay respect to your old friend, Isaiah Whitewater.”
Colt swallowed, being strangled from the want of tasting her again. “It wasn’t—” he swallowed again “—it wasn’t just to say hi to Isaiah.”
“It wasn’t?” she asked, her breath tickling his lips.
“No.” He gave his head a slight shake. “From the cemetery, I can see your house. I stop every Wednesday to see if you’re home.”
“You do?” Her eyes shimmered and held the sweetest gaze imaginable.
“Yes, I do.” Right now, he’d give every cow he owned to be upstairs in their room instead of the crowded dining room. He knew when a woman was ripe, and Annalee was about to fall off the tree.
Her teeth bit on her bottom lip. He licked his. She tilted her head slightly, drew his gaze up to meet hers again. “Why?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, namely because his mind hadn’t processed her question. It had already left the dining room, was busy conjuring up all the things he would do to her once he got her upstairs to their room.
“Why would you want to know if I was home?”
A throat-clearing sound forced Colt to glance toward the edge of the table. The waiter, plates in hand, stood there. Annalee moved first, leaning back in her chair, giving the man room to set one of dishes down. Colt had no choice but to follow suit, and reluctantly released her hand.
She spread her napkin over her lap and waited until he picked up his silverware before she did the same. The food might as well have been sawdust since Colt had no idea what he chewed. He attempted a few more bites, watched as she nibbled on her fare. After a few minutes he gave up the facade of eating. The visions in his head played out like a storybook, so clear and real that sweat trickled down his back.
He reached over and lifted her hand resting beside her plate. Brushing his lips over her knuckles, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
Her fingers grasped his tightly. “Wh-where are you going?”
Kissing her fingers again, he assured, “Just to talk to Owen for a moment.”
“Why?” Something akin to fear glistened in her brown eyes.
He turned her hand, pressed his lips to her palm. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered, smiling. “Don’t fret, I’ll be right back. I promise.”
A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she gave a slight nod. “All right.” She lowered her lashes as the hold she had on his hand relaxed.
Colt squeezed her fingers before releasing them and rising from his chair. He strolled across the crowded room, shifting his gun belt and hoping his arousal wasn’t as apparent to others as it was to him. At the front desk he slapped a hand on the bell, and a second later, did so again.
By the time Owen meandered out of the door behind the desk, the little bell rang nonstop beneath Colt’s fingers.
“Criminy!” The hotel owner snatched the metal chime off the desktop. “Whatcha need, Colt?”
“I want a bath prepared in my room. The biggest tub you got. Lots of hot water, towels, everything.”
“All right, I’ll see to it.”
Colt tugged at his waistband. “You’ve got five minutes to get it done.”
“Colt—”
He glared at the m
an. “Five minutes.”
“It’ll take that long to haul the tub up there.”
Colt flexed every muscle he could. “All right, ten minutes.”
Owen waved a hand, but a knowing smile covered his face. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Good.” Colt took a deep breath and turned to reenter the dining room.
Chapter Four
Annalee shivered as if she stood in a cold rain. Even her chin quivered. Her glance went from Reverend Mitchell, who’d appeared out of nowhere as soon as Colt had strolled away from the table and disappeared through the doorway.
“Come along, Annalee,” the reverend repeated, “I’ll take you home now.”
“I—I—Colt—” she stammered.
“That man had no right to force you into marriage.” He wrapped one of his hands around her upper arm.
She shuddered at the touch and once again looked to the doorway. Colt appeared just then, his eyes narrowing as he caught site of the reverend.
Fear and relief intermingled, tying a knot in her stomach.
Bounding to her feet, she stretched a hand toward her husband. No, their marriage hadn’t came about as she’d always dreamed it would, but nonetheless, she was his wife, he was her husband, and it was what she wanted more than anything else on earth. The way he’d kissed her upstairs, and whispering to each other over the tabletop, had made her determined to do everything within her power to assure Colt never regretted marrying her. Her body not only ached to be touched by him, he made her heart sing. Her friends had told her what to expect, but she’d never imagined it would be this strong, this utterly dreamlike.
Within seconds he arrived at her side and none too gently shouldered Reverend Mitchell aside. Colt wrapped an arm around her. She melted against him, gladly accepting the shelter of his tall, solid frame. His hand caressing her shoulder and his wonderful scent filling her nose instantly eased her fear.
“What do you want?” Colt asked, glaring at the reverend.
“I’m here to take Annalee home. This marriage should never have happened.”
She laid a hand on Colt’s chest, clung tighter with the other one, which she’d wrapped around his back. Silently she begged him not to make her go with Reverend Mitchell.
“I don’t think so,” Colt growled.
“I’ve been informed she had to use a shotgun to get you out of the Broken Spoke,” Reverend Mitchell declared.
She moaned, regretting her earlier impulsive actions.
“And the only wedding gift you offered her was a penny,” the reverend continued sarcastically. “A woman such as Annalee deserves to be treated much better than that. As the pastor of this community it is my responsibility to see each of my parishioners is treated appropriately.”
“And working her to death is appropriate?” Colt countered.
Annalee glanced up. Colt’s gaze was fierce, his lips tight.
His hold grew firmer as he continued, “The days of her being at your beck and call are over.” He pointed at the doorway. “Now, I suggest you leave, before I assist you to the door.”
The room had grown extremely quiet, neither the clink of a glass nor the clatter of a fork could be heard. Annalee pressed herself deeper against Colt, having never seen the glare of hatred glimmering in Reverend Mitchell’s eyes before. The pastor looked downright evil.
“And Reverend,” Colt said, settling his free hand on the handle of the pistol strapped on his hip, “don’t come within a hundred feet of my wife, ever.”
Reverend Mitchell’s nostrils flared. His cold, green eyes settled on her. “God is very disappointed in you, Annalee,” he said. “Very disappointed.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat but didn’t comment, mainly because Colt seethed, “Get the hell out of here.”
Heavy silence hung over the table and stung her ears as the two men squared off, eyeball to eyeball. Then, with a loud huff, the reverend turned and moved away from the table.
Annalee didn’t twist to watch him leave. She let the air in her lungs seep out and, closing her eyes, rested her cheek against Colt’s chest.
His lips touched the top of her head before he asked, “Are you all right?”
She nodded, since in fact, she’d never been better. Being snuggled in his arms was heavenly, and the thought of never having to see Reverend Mitchell again was enough to make her jump for joy.
Through the steady throbbing in her ears, faint sounds filtered in—murmured voices, the tinkling of silverware, the clatter of plates being gathered.
A sigh escaped her lips. She should move. It was highly improper, married or not, for the two of them to embrace so tenderly in public, but Annalee wasn’t ready for it to end. Besides, she wasn’t embarrassed by their behavior. There was nothing about Colt Severson that could ever cause her shame, least of all loving him.
He was the one who moved, gently lowered her to her chair. Then he twisted her chair and did the same as he sat in his. The corner of the table no longer separated them as they sat knee to knee in the corner of the restaurant. One of his big, warm hands clasped hers and his other rose to twist a curl hanging at the side of her face.
His eyes looked deep into hers. Her senses soared. Heart pounding, her body tingled with such delight she wondered if it might take off in flight like a mourning dove.
“Annalee,” he started, “I’m sorry you had to come find me at the Broken Spoke. I went there to give you some time to get used to the idea of us being married. It will never happen again.”
She opened her mouth, ready to take the blame and admit her jealousy of another woman—any woman—being near him, but he shook his head.
“Let me finish.” The warmth of his fingertip trailed along the side of her face. “I promise to spend the rest of my life taking care of you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never want for anything.”
She pinched her lips together to keep from screaming, It’s you I want, nothing more, nothing less.
As if he read her mind, he added, “There is nothing I want more than to carry you upstairs and show you exactly how much I care for you. And I am going to do just that, but first we have a few things to talk about.”
Annalee curled her toes and tightened the muscles in her inner thighs against the turmoil swirling there. The last thing on earth she wanted was to talk.
“I came to town every week to check on you because you’ve been embedded in my mind since the first moment I met you. But I didn’t know what to do.”
She tilted her head, let his palm wrap around her cheek. “What do you mean?”
“Everything about you is pure and good. And there’s not one thing about me that’s good or pure.”
“That’s not true—”
“Yes, it is.” His eyes grew solemn. “I’ve killed men, Annalee.”
“You were a Texas Ranger. You were upholding the law.”
“Yes, that’s true. But the fact is, Ranger or not, I’d kill again to protect what’s mine, especially my family.”
She nodded, fully accepting his statement. It was how every man and most every woman in the West felt.
His gaze was dark and serious. “You’re my family now, and I won’t share you.”
“Share me?”
“I know you help out—” he paused, as if deciding what to say “—the townsfolk a great deal. It won’t be feasible for you to continue do so much for them, with the ranch being so far from town.”
“All right,” she said, more than happy to comply.
He looked a bit surprised. “I—uh—I don’t make it to town for church services very often.”
“I have my Bible.” She added wryly, “Besides, I don’t think Reverend Mitchell would welcome us at Sunday services. Do you?”
The crooked grin was back, and sent her heart tumbling about. “Probably not,” he agreed and then grew serious again. “What I’m saying, is that, well, that…you see, when your father…”
With the way her he
art, mind and body reacted to his nearness, the reason their marriage had occurred had completely eluded her, until this very minute. She did take a moment to consider her options, but in reality, there was only one. The truth. “My father,” she continued where he’d left off, “must have been at his wit’s end.”
“Uh?” he said, looking perplexed.
She let out a sigh in preparation of telling the entire truth. “My father hasn’t approved of some of the things I’ve been doing. He’s spoken to Reverend Mitchell many times, but the reverend said since he wasn’t married, and I wasn’t married, I was the only one who could help him with the bodies, funerals and such. Said it was my Christian duty. Pa said the only way I would get out of these things was to get married. He knew—” She had to stop because her face had grown hot.
“Knew what?” Colt asked.
“That you were the only man I’d agree to marry,” she said quickly, before she lost her nerve. “He said he’d force you into marrying me, but I never really believed he’d do it.” A terrible thought occurred then, making her glance up. “Why didn’t you just call the sheriff and have him arrested, or—” she gulped “—shoot him?”
“The only—” He paused for several seconds.
Annalee couldn’t read his expression, and wished with all her might she could.
Colt squeezed her hand. “Your father,” he said, “was as drunk as a skunk when my boys brought him in.”
She gave out a moan. It was worse than she thought. “My father was drunk?”
“Yes. He stank to high heaven.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m twenty-three, and I’ve never seen my father lift a glass. There has never been a night, other than last night and the night before, when he wasn’t home in bed, sober as a saint, by nine o’clock at night.”
Colt frowned, gave her an intense look. “Really?”
She nodded. “I thought his scheming was against Reverend Mitchell. I never imagined he’d force you…” Her voiced trailed off as she glanced to the doorway where Reverend Mitchell had exited.
Wedding Night with the Ranger Page 3