THE STAY IN NASHART was turning out to be most pleasant. Violet loved advising Morgan about his fancy emporium; in fact, it was nearly all they talked about that week. And soon the mines would be earning an incredible amount of money for both partners. Daniel and Evan had left a few days ago to manage them temporarily since they both found the prospect interesting. Morgan spent hours instructing both of them on everything they needed to know to start mining.
While Morgan could have gotten his friends in Nashart to help him build his store in just a few days once all the lumber had arrived, Violet had reminded him that it wouldn’t be grand enough for the distinctive furnishings he intended to sell, so he’d sent off a few more telegrams to the Melling brothers in New York, asking them to find an architect as well as an experienced manager for him.
Texas got married the very day he arrived back in town, too eager to make Emma his wife to wait for a traditional wedding to be arranged, so only Emma’s family witnessed the ceremony. Two days later, he left to take Daniel and Evan to the mines—but Emma went with them. No more separations for those two, a thought that made Violet sad because it reminded her that she would soon be separating herself from her own family—once again. Which had sparked an argument—with herself. But her brothers helped end it by stating a simple truth.
Both were angry with her when she got around to telling them her plans. But it was Daniel who said, “It may take months for Father to regain his usual vigor. Are you really going to leave us before then?”
“I could return with my husband.”
“An English lord visiting America? Must you marry him, Vi? Nine years was too long for you to be over there, and you want to make it forever?”
She’d started to cry, and emotion won out. It was that word forever. And she’d already been leaning toward not going. It was definite now.
And today—today she was getting married. Well, maybe. She wasn’t exactly sure how it all came about, but she was certain it had started with Mary Callahan, who came into the dining room just as she and Morgan were finishing lunch. He had business in town and had just stood up to leave. He kissed his mother in passing. Mary stared after him for a moment before she turned to Violet and remarked, “He’s partial to you.”
Morgan had used the same word back in Butte, but it hadn’t been clear what he meant by it, so Violet asked his mother, “What exactly does that mean around here? Something more than fond?”
“Hell, yeah, a lot more. And it’s obvious. How come you don’t see it?”
Actually, she did see it when he looked at her, touched her, did nice things for her; it was just that she’d never heard it. But Morgan was a man of action, not a fancy talker. And, as she knew from playing poker with him, he held his cards close to his vest.
With a big smile on her face, she ran upstairs to find her father. Stepping into his room, she said, “What would you think about my staying here and marrying your partner?”
He put down the book he was reading, stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “I think that would make me incredibly happy. He already seems like a son to me. And I must confess that I saw this coming—well, I hoped. So I suppose I should also confess that I haven’t needed to convalesce here, sweetness. I was just giving you and Morgan time to realize you never want to part. You can tell him you both have my blessing.”
Delighted, she sat in the chair next to his bed to make a few confessions of her own, how her old dreams of marrying an English lord had waned in comparison to being partners with Morgan in his store—yes, he’d asked her to be his business partner—and how love was so very confusing, but temptation wasn’t. Yes, she even said that to her father! And she admitted that she’d known for a while now that she wanted to marry Morgan, but now that she was sure of how he felt about her, she didn’t want to wait another moment, wanted to be married today.
It was late afternoon when she went downstairs to see if Morgan had returned. He hadn’t, so she rode to town to find him. She could wait for Morgan to do the asking, but she couldn’t imagine how long that might take. It was a momentous decision for her to do the asking instead, and if she thought about it long enough, she wouldn’t. So she rode straight for the church first, then set out to find Morgan. She was impatient by the time she spotted him leaving the telegraph office.
She galloped toward him, reined in abruptly, and said without preamble, “Marry me by sundown. The preacher has been informed. My father has been informed. You can tell your parents.” And she rode off just as abruptly with her cheeks scalding from a deep blush.
The trouble was, she felt like her old self in Nashart, especially after being with her brothers this week, so she’d gotten a bit bossy. There was no other excuse for what she’d just done, ordering him to marry her instead of asking as she’d intended. She was mortified! How could she face him again? How could she not?
Those thoughts raced through her mind as she rode back to the ranch. But when she came to Tiffany and Hunter’s house, she slowed down. She could hide there for a while. But as soon as Tiffany opened the door to her pounding, she cried, “I ordered him to marry me today!”
“What did he say?”
“I didn’t give him a chance to say anything!”
“But you beat him to it?”
“I did what?”
Tiffany couldn’t stop laughing long enough to answer, but when she finally did, she said, “It was only a matter of time, honey. Everyone guessed it would happen soon. Morgan is probably so relieved that you beat him to it and did the asking. Why wait, after all, when you both know it’s what you want? And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get you to the church on time. Did you specify a time?”
“I told him by sundown.”
Tiffany giggled. “How western of you. I bet that made him laugh.”
If she hadn’t left him shocked. If he wasn’t already riding out of the territory. . . .
But she stood in the church late that day as the sun set, wearing one of her white evening gowns trimmed in lilac satin, more sedate than one of her ball gowns. Tiffany had fetched it for her, since Violet was too afraid to return to the ranch and run into Morgan if he was back there. Tiffany even supplied her own wedding veil for the occasion. And sneaked Violet into town early so they wouldn’t run into any of the family. She’d even refused to let Hunter into the house while they were getting ready. Tiffany Callahan was turning out to be a wonderful friend.
Her father, along with Morgan’s family, started arriving at the church, followed by most of the people in town. Word had spread fast. She wished the Faulkners could have been there, too. What a long letter she would have to write to Sophie and Aunt Elizabeth! Morgan’s brothers tried to talk to her when they arrived, but Mary shushed them, which was a good thing, because the slightest wrong word could make Violet bolt, she was that nervous. Morgan hadn’t arrived yet, and the most nerve-racking part was standing at the altar waiting for him. Traditionally the groom waited for the bride. But nothing about this wedding was traditional, including the possibility the groom wouldn’t show up for it—although his family must expect him to or they wouldn’t be there, which was why she hadn’t run yet.
And then he walked down the aisle toward her, her bear, amazingly handsome in his fancy black suit, wearing the biggest grin. He wanted to be there! She was so relieved she thought she might swoon.
When he reached her, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, then whispered, “Yes, by the way.”
Hunter took that moment to call out teasingly, “Who’s holding the shotgun?”
“I am,” she and Morgan said in unison.