“Did you know Fanny and Burnsey got married today?”
He took another step. “I don’t care.”
Trixianna backed up. Her backside brushed up against the cupboard. “When I left, Bluebeard was eating all the flowers and chewing on Burnsey’s cane.”
“I always hated that goat.”
“Chance, I—”
He paced forward and bent over Trixianna, one arm on either side of her, pinning her in front of him. He tilted his head until their noses almost touched. “I don’t care about Fanny, or Burnsey, or that blasted goat. I care about you.”
His nearness stole her breath away. Heat radiated off him in waves. His pale blue eyes captivated her with an eager, yet gentle, sparkle. And he smelled so-o wonderful—leather warmed from his skin, his own distinctive male scent, and always, always spearmint. “Me?”
“You. With mud spattered on your face, dried muck all through your hair and dressed, or should I say, undressed in the most unbelievable drawers in all of God’s creation.”
“What are you saying, Chance?”
“You’ve brought fun back into my dull old life. Me, my life. Can you credit it? Chance, old-reliable-always-doing-his-job Magrane. I almost married a woman I didn’t love—hell, I didn’t even like her all that much—because I thought I was doing the right thing, the honorable thing.”
“I—”
He placed a finger to her lips. “Hush, I’m not finished, and this isn’t easy. You’ve changed me, Trixianna. And I don’t mean by shooting me, stabbing me, nearly drowning me—”
Trixianna ducked her head. He lifted it up with his finger. “I’m just teasing, honey. Honest. You are the very best part of me.”
She stared into his beloved face, wanting to believe him with all her heart.
“The very best part. And you’re not getting away from me now. Even if I have to lock you back up in that jail cell.”
She gave him an exasperated look.
He smiled, a slow, gentle smile. “I’m asking you to be my wife. Should I go down on one knee and declare my love for all eternity?”
“Do you?” she asked, around the lump in her throat.
A look of confusion crossed his face. “Do I what?”
“Do you love me?”
“Well, hell. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying for the last few minutes? I know I’m nervous, but I thought I was at least making sense.”
“You are making sense, Chance. I just want to hear you say it.”
“Trixianna Lawless, I love you.”
Joy welled up inside her and she whooped aloud as it bubbled over. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed with all her might.
“I guess that was clear enough. Can I kiss you now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He gave her a beguiling grin. “You realize though that dressed in your drawers like that, I can’t be responsible for what might happen next.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
By many a happy accident.
– Thomas Middleton, English dramatist
EPILOGUE
One month later…
“I NOW pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Chance took Trixianna’s face in his hands. He caressed both cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Then he smiled before placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. At her surprised expression, he leaned close and whispered for her ear only, “I fell in love with your freckles first, then the rest of you. Besides, I’d rather wait for a more private place to kiss you the way I want to.”
Trixianna’s face blushed a rosy hue. Chance chuckled. God, how he loved this woman. For the wedding, she’d worn her hair loose just to please him. Throughout the ceremony, it had taken all his willpower not to plunge his hands into those wild, rust-colored tresses and kiss her senseless.
Dressed in an inappropriate, but sexy as hell, low-cut green velvet dress he’d ridden to Wichita and picked out himself, she was the culmination of all his dreams. And now she was all his. He couldn’t wait to get her alone.
After the near-disaster of the last wedding in Grand Fork, they’d decided on a quiet ceremony with just Rider and the minister present. Which was fine with Chance. The gown was too low-cut for anyone else’s curious eyes, anyway. The parson, no matter how pious was still a man, and that was bad enough. At least Rider was family.
Chance felt a nudge in his ribs. He turned to find Rider grinning at him. “Say, big brother, are you gonna let the rest of us kiss the bride, too?”
“No,” growled Chance. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Rider’s eyes danced with merriment. “I promise I won’t touch her.”
“The answer is still no.”
Rider winked at Trixianna.
Chance scowled at him, irked by the sudden stab of unreasonable jealousy.
“Fine,” Rider said. “I’ll just wait until your back is turned. Then it won’t be a friendly peck either. I’ll give her a kiss that’ll curl her toes.”
“You just try it and I’ll toss your sorry butt in jail.”
“What, again?”
Chance heard the teasing quality in Rider’s voice. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little jealous.”
Rider quirked a brow. “A little? Ha!” He patted Chance on the back, then leaned over to place a kiss on Trixianna’s cheek. “Sweetheart, it’s been a mighty big pleasure getting to know you these past few days, and I’m sure gonna miss those sweet treats of yours. A man could grow to like that.”
“Why, thank you, Rider.”
“One more thing, try not to torment Chance too much…unless he’s got it coming, of course.” Despite Chance’s warning glance, Rider gave Trixianna a hug.
Chance grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “You going someplace?”
“Yep. I got a few amends to make over to Drover.”
Chance blew out his breath. “All right, but be careful, and for God’s sake, stay out of trouble.”
Rider started down the aisle, then called over his shoulder. “Don't worry, I’m a big boy now.”
“That’s exactly what worries me.”
Rider just laughed. “Take care, Trixianna.”
“You, too, Rider.”
“Don’t let Chance get too fat with that cooking of yours.”
Trixianna giggled. “I won’t.” She turned to Chance. “Where is Rider going?”
“He’s going back to our hometown, Drover.”
They heard Rider whistling as the outside door slammed shut.
“Watch your backside,” Chance called out. Turning around to smile at his new wife, he took her hand and placed it on his arm. “What do you say, Mrs. Magrane, about you and me finding a big, warm bed and—”
“Chance!”
He glanced at the minister. The man had turned crimson. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his embarrassment.
“Sorry. I just can’t wait to get my bride alone.”
“Please, Sheriff, don’t tell me about it.” Huffing like a steam engine going uphill, he turned on his heel and escaped through the back door of the church.
“Alone at last,” Chance murmured. He allowed his gaze to roam over Trixianna’s exposed neck and the swell of her high, rounded breasts, noting for the first time that she had more freckles that he’d missed in their previous lovemaking. He memorized each and every location and wondered where else they might be discovered on her body. His own body thrummed to life with that enticing thought.
“Chance?”
Trixianna’s questioning voice brought his lust down a bit. He pulled her into the circle of his arms, then kissed her with his eyes, then his lips. With careful deliberation, he moved his mouth over hers, demanding a response. She returned the kiss with all the abandon he’d grown to love about her. When he lifted his head, they were both panting.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he croaked in a tight whisper. Thank goodness she had no idea she could bring him to his k
nees just by being near her. She already had him wrapped around her little finger. She just didn’t know it yet.
He turned quickly and caught his boot on the hem of her skirt. She backed away, trying to free the material and Chance lost his balance.
He threw out a hand to catch his fall, but missed the back of the pew. He fell, cracking his head on the armrest. The thud resounded in the empty building like a distant clap of thunder.
Chance lurched to the side as he tried to right himself, then his eyes rolled back in his head. He opened his mouth, muttered, “Well, hell—” and pitched forward at Trixianna’s feet like a felled oak tree.
“Oh, my stars.” She knelt down beside Chance. “Here we go again.”
~ End ~
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