One Texas Night

CHAPTER 6

Cozette jumped at the tap on their connecting door half an hour later.

“Ready?” he said when she shoved the lock free.

She didn’t miss his smile, but he looked nervous and somehow that one fact calmed her. With only a slight hesitance, she motioned him into her room.

She couldn’t help but stare at him from head to toe. He looked striking in his tailored evening jacket and white shirt hugging his tan throat. “Almost,” she whispered. “I can’t get the latch of my necklace to hold. Would you do it for me?”

Handing him the jewelry, she turned her back. Her hair was already swept atop her head, so he should have no trouble. Standing very still, she waited.

“Got it,” he said.

She felt for the necklace even knowing it wasn’t there. “No, you haven’t.”

He laughed. “No, I meant I figured out how this thing works. Now hold still and I’ll rope it around you.”

She felt his warm fingers work the lock at the back of her neck. Then his hands drifted down, smoothing the chain along her throat. She didn’t move as his long fingers fanned out over her bare shoulders and gently held her still. She could feel his breath against her cheek, but he didn’t move.

“Are you finished?” she asked, waiting for him to let go of her shoulders.

“Yes.” His voice was oddly low. “I’m just enjoying the view from here. I think I like it better than I do the one of you walking away. You seem very nicely rounded in several places.”

She turned preparing to snap at him, but he was even closer than she thought. They were almost touching. The warmth in his eyes shocked her, as did the honesty. He wasn’t flattering or playing with her, he was simply telling her how he felt. He had no reason to play games with her. They both knew the bargain between them was already set.

She raised her chin slightly. “It’s time to go downstairs.”

He took her hand and put it in the bend of his elbow, then led her down the steps to a dozen people waiting to see the newlyweds.

Cozette smiled when she saw them. Most of the women had been friends of her mother’s from years ago. She remembered them coming to visit when she was little, but they’d stopped dropping by after her mother died. Uncle Raymond would have to be on his best behavior. Even if he was furious about the marriage, he couldn’t afford to let on in front of them or the powerful husbands who stood at their wives’ sides.

Michael remained near, smiling but saying little. He asked where each guest’s land was and if it bordered San Louise, then talked of the weather, but little else.

Her mother’s friends seemed to tolerate Raymond more than like him. By the time dinner was served it was plain they came to see her and the man she’d picked to marry. Judging by their smiles, the neighbors liked her new husband just fine.

The only thing Michael did out of order was pull up her chair beside his when they walked in to dinner. The guests laughed and kidded him about being a new husband. One lady even commented that it was the dearest thing she’d ever seen.

About the time the main course was served the talk turned to books. Cozette tried to shield questions meant for Michael. She wasn’t sure he was well read and she didn’t want these people to hurt his feelings. But, after a few moments, she realized they were united in their mission to get to know him.

When she glanced at her uncle she knew that somehow he was behind their curiosity. He must have planted a seed that her new husband was not good enough for the princess of San Louise.

Finally, a man on their left asked Michael, point-blank, what he thought of Moby Dick.

Michael set down his fork and said simply, “I think it’s a wonderful study on social status and it makes you speculate on your own personal beliefs as well as your individual place in the universe.” He fought down a smile, probably proud of himself for remembering most of a review he’d read. “I also think, at over eight hundred pages, it’s a bit longer than it needed to be.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then everyone talked at once. He’d somehow passed the test and been accepted. For the rest of the meal, no one bothered even to look at Uncle Raymond.

“You read,” she whispered near Michael’s ear when she got a chance.

“Yes, dear.” His hand moved over her skirt and brushed her leg. Then, without hesitation, he kissed her lightly.

Cozette blushed and pushed his hand off her skirts. He might read, but as far as his manners, he would barely be considered housebroken. No man, not even a husband, would touch his wife’s leg in public. Thank goodness they were at the end of the table, where no one could see.

The table roared with approval over the kiss as she slipped her hand beneath the table and pushed his hand away a second time.

“Do it again! We missed the wedding!” someone yelled. “At least we should be allowed to see a real kiss.”

Michael waited until she turned in his direction. This time his hand gripped her leg with determination and she felt the heat of his fingers through the layers of her gown. With his free hand, he lifted her chin and lowered his mouth over hers.

The kiss was sweet, tender, but his hand moved purposefully up her leg with shocking familiarity. After a few moments she pulled away. Anger flashed before she realized they were on the same side. His bold actions made everyone believe they were in love, and her shocked hesitance only led them to believe that the girl was becoming a woman.

Michael smiled down at her as his hand beneath the table moved back to her knee, straightening the silk gown as he went, as though he could somehow erase the feel of his hand.

The crowd clapped and yelled. “Look,” someone shouted, “she blushes with just a mere kiss!”

Cozette wanted to jab him hard in the ribs but he was playing the game they’d agreed to play. No one in the room would suspect they’d married for anything but love or maybe passion.

All evening he kept her close. He played with her hand while someone read poetry, and when the evening progressed and the wine flowed, and they no longer became the center of attention, he remained close, always touching her hand or arm, or brushing his leg lightly against hers.

She considered the fact that he might be trying to drive her mad. After all, he’d have everything if she went crazy. Each touch seemed a fraction bolder than the last. She found herself warming to each, waiting for the next.

People grouped together to sing around her mother’s piano. Two old men were sound asleep near the door, their brandy still in their hands. To her surprise, Michael moved even closer to her after her uncle retired.

Cozette felt the length of the day. With no sleep the night before, she couldn’t remember when she’d last had any rest. She’d tried for an hour in the afternoon, but there was far too much to do. Now, with the warmth of him beside her, she melted against him, no longer worrying about what was proper.

He seemed to understand, putting his arm around her and pulling her close, then brushing her cheek as he encouraged her to rest her head on his chest.

She didn’t protest, surprised at how good it felt to have someone watching over her. The guests fell away, their good-nights little more than buzzing around her. Even the doctor’s report that her father was resting comfortably hardly registered.

When they were alone, Michael pulled her onto his lap and cradled her against the soft arm of the settee. “Sleep, my dear. I’m right here to watch over you.”

She felt his hands brush along her side and his lips kiss her temple, and then she drifted deep into sleep.

When she awoke, he was carrying her up the stairs. Embarrassed at being carried to bed like a child, she didn’t move or open her eyes.

He went to his room and crossed the space between to hers. Without a word, he gently laid her down on the bed. She didn’t move as he unlatched her heavy necklace. His fingers drifted down and brushed lightly over the rise of her breast, and then he moved to her feet and removed her shoes. His hand glided up her leg to just above her knee where a strap held her gun in place. He didn’t seem surprised by the weapon but simply removed it and pulled her skirt back down.

The thought crossed her mind that if he went any farther she’d scream, but she knew no one would come to stand between a husband and a wife on their first night together.

His hands slid along her sides from knee to shoulder, and then he tugged the covers to her chin and moved off the bed.

She expected him to cross back into his room, but he didn’t. He locked her door, pulled the curtain across the alcove, stoked the fire, and removed his boots and jacket.

Then, very carefully, he lay down atop the covers at her side.

With her eyes closed, she tried to breathe slowly as if asleep as his hand moved across her waist. He stretched, then was still and his breathing calmed.

She risked a glance as she turned to face him.

He was sound asleep.