Poppy just stared at him mutely. And then she felt as if a band that had been constricting her chest, impeding her breathing, choking her very life away, had suddenly loosed. She shuddered. She trembled. She started to cry.
"Oh, hell," Shane muttered. "Don't. God, please, don't! I'll go. I'm sorry." He was backing toward the window even as he spoke.
"No!" Poppy flung herself at him. He stumbled back, and she grabbed him, slid her arms inside his jacket and buried herself against him, hanging on for dear life.
"Oh, wow," she heard Shane mumble. "Oh, wow. Does this mean—?" He held her out from him and looked into her face.
She gave him a watery smile and a gurgling laugh, and he grinned from ear to ear.
"I guess it does," he said. Then he wrapped his arms and toppled them both onto her bed.
Wally hissed, then huffed and hopped off the bed.
"Sorry," Shane said to his twitching tail as the cat stalked out of the room. But then he shook his head. "No, I'm not," he corrected and smiled down at Poppy once more. "Not sorry at all. This is something I'm never gonna regret. Never in a million years."
* * *
He loved her then.
He loved her with all the gentleness and care and consideration of which he was capable. He loved her with all the passion and desire and need that had been building in him since he'd loved her last.
And the miracle was she loved him, too.
Not just with words, though she gave him those, but beyond words. He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him. He could hear it in her voice no matter what she said. He could feel it in the way she touched him.
God, the way she touched him! For all the pleasure he tried to give her, she repaid him a hundredfold.
"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked her toward morning when he was lying there weak as a rag from the loving they'd shared.
Poppy smiled down at him and ran a finger down the center of his chest and stomach. All the way down. "I had a lot of time while you were running around the country to think of what I'd like to do to you."
Shane shivered. His toes clenched. He couldn't believe that after all they'd already done tonight that she could still arouse him, but she definitely could. "You're welcome to do that anytime," he told her. "Anytime at all."
It was getting light before Poppy fell asleep in his arms.
Shane was tired, too. He still hadn't slept since the day before yesterday, and though there was a lot to be said for adrenaline, even that had its limits. But he couldn't close his eyes. He had to keep watching her, to be sure she was really there in his arms.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and she opened her eyes.
"It's not a dream?" she said sleepily, and touched his face with her hand.
He shook his head. "I hope not." He rolled onto his side, facing her. "I want it to be forever. Will you marry me? I know Rance is the better bet," he went on quickly without giving her a chance to answer.
"Yes."
"I know he has more to offer. Hey!" He scowled. "You aren't supposed to agree with me!"
Poppy laughed. "That was yes to your proposal, my love." She pushed him back against the sheet, then slid on top of him, moving sinuously and sending shudders of desire straight through him. "Of course," she said thoughtfully, "Rance is a brilliant man. A handsome man. A clever man. A good man."
"Enough!"
Poppy fitted their bodies together. "But he's not the right man—for me."
"Thank God," Shane muttered. And he began to move once more.
* * *
They were married in the springtime.
In the church where Milly hadn't married Mike, in the church where Cash had got his face slapped and Poppy had once upon a time been kidnapped from.
It was a beautiful wedding. Poppy did the flowers herself. Milly and Cash were both in the wedding party, and while they didn't exactly smile at each other, they didn't come to blows, either. Rance showed up with a girl no one had ever seen before, and if he didn't introduce her, Shane and Poppy didn't care.
Poppy's father walked her down the aisle and looked surprisingly pleased as he gave her, with his blessing, to the white-faced groom who waited for her.
Afterward, they had a reception at Huggins's. Poppy and Shane agreed on almost all of the details for the sitdown dinner. Poppy wanted to be a little more conservative in terms of cost. Shane, as usual, threw caution to the winds.
Poppy gave in. They were only getting married once, after all. Their guests—all two hundred and fifty of them—had prime rib and Huggins's special potatoes along with salad and huge bowls of fruit. They cut a scrumptious three-layer wedding cake afterward.
The whole day was wonderful, and everyone knew it. Especially the bride and groom.
"I told you so," Shane said in Poppy's ear after he'd fed her a bite of cake and taken a bite from her fingers in return.
"You did. It was perfect," Poppy agreed and kissed him on the mouth. Then she smiled impishly. "And you were absolutely right. The prime rib was wonderful. Much better than having chicken."
* * * * *
The Cowboy Steals a Lady Page 15