A Texan's Promise (8 page)

Oh. Yes, of course?

This was surely a mistake! Vanessa felt like sinking to the floor, she was so embarrassed. As the seconds passed, and Clayton looked at her, scanning her face as if searching for something, her heart just about beat out of her chest.

What was wrong? What was wrong with the idea of kissing her? What didn't Clayton see that he'd hoped to?

As the silence lengthened, Vanessa's stomach churned.Perhaps she should let Clayton know that he didn't have to kiss her, that although she'd meant every word she said, she knew that for him, the ceremony didn't mean a thing.

But no words came forth.

"Come on, Captain," Petey called out. "Kiss her!"

As if he was scared she was going to bolt, Clayton cupped her shoulders and lowered his head. He paused when his lips were just inches away.

His scent wafted closer, soap and tobacco, and all Clayton.Heat.

A little jolt came hammering out of nowhere; spurring her on, making her breathless. A little shiver of anticipation rolled through her, catching her so suddenly, she had to struggle not to shake.

But he still noticed. "It's okay, sugar," he whispered, bussing her cheek.

Lanie groaned. "Captain, don't you know anything? You're supposed to kiss her on the lips!"

Vanessa was half aware of Mary chuckling nervously as she shushed her daughter. Vaguely aware of Ken acting like forced marriages in his parlor happened all the time. There was only one thing to do. Quickly, she rose on her toes and brushed his lips with hers.

It was done.

As if to steady her, he gripped her shoulders. Snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her near. The fabric of his blue shirt brushed against the lace of her yellow satin gown.

And then Clayton lowered his lips to hers once again.When their lips touched again, his gentle pressure made her move her head to meet his better. Slowly, like he was imprinting the action in his mind. Tasting her, making her feel like they were truly united. It was the kiss of her dreams and of her hopes.

When they stepped aside, Mary had tears in her eyes. Ken looked pleased. The children launched themselves at her, though Clayton stopped one from grabbing her from behind.

Yes, they were married. For better or worse. Not until death would they part.

Later that evening, when the wedding festivities had settled down and the roast chicken had been eaten and the dishes had been washed and put away, Clayton called himself ten times a fool. Only a loon wouldn't have seen the gleam in Ken's eye during dinner when he got to talking about someplace private for the newlyweds.

Only a fool would keep his mouth shut when Ken escorted Vanessa and him to the barn and pointed up a sturdy wooden ladder that was half propped, half nailed to the walls of a loft."This here is our gift to you, Mr. and Mrs. Proffitt. We thought y'all would surely appreciate a little bit of privacy tonight."

Vanessa visibly paled.

Clayton glared. "This isn't necessary."

"Sure it is, Clayton. Don't you worry about a thing. It's nice and warm in that loft. I've slept there a time or two myself when we were building the house." He winked. "Mary will bring y'all out some coffee in the morning, just like in one of those fancy hotels in Kansas City."

"Thank you. That's . . . that's real kind of you both. Convey my thanks to Mary."

"Will do." Ken backed out two steps. "So, I'll be going now.I'm going to close the main door, too. Don't worry about the horses down here in the stalls. Pete already fed and watered them; they won't be needing attention until morning."

Two minutes later, with a cloud of dust, the barn door shut, dimming what natural light filtered the space.

"I'm sorry, Van. I didn't plan on this."

"Of course you didn't. It is sweet though, don't you think?"

Sweet had never been a defining characteristic of Ken Willoughby. "It's something." Popping his hat back on his head, he motioned to the ladder. "I suppose we best go on up."

"Yes."

Rung by rung, Clayton helped her climb the ladder, staying securely behind her in case a foot tripped on her skirt or a hand lost its grip. Once they made it to the top, Vanessa peered over. "Oh, my!"

"What?"

A dash of humor filled her eyes as she scrambled onto the loft. "You'll see."

Suddenly, he did indeed see. Clayton felt his cheeks heat and change different colors as he spied their marriage bed—all six feet of it.

Luckily, the loft was high enough for them both to stand up straight, though Clayton did need to remove his hat for comfort.The large bed looked to be made of straw or cornhusks or both. Down-filled comforters made of white cotton flannel lay on top. In the corner, under a sloping window, was a small table with a ewer of water, a dish, and a fluffy white towel.

A rag rug circled the floor. The only place to sit was on the massive bed.

"This isn't what I'd had in mind when I asked Ken if we could have a little privacy," Clayton admitted, sitting next to her on the surprisingly firm mattress. "I just wanted some time to speak with you and make sure you were all right. Those pesky children of theirs kept following you around, asking you a hundred questions." Picking up the edge of the quilt that Mary or Ken had draped over the corner of their makeshift bed, he shook his head. "I never dreamed Ken and Mary would plan something like this."

To his surprise, Vanessa chuckled. "I hope not, Clayton.Otherwise, I'm sure I'd be really confused about your intentions toward me."

Clayton loosened the collar of his brand-new blue shirt.Already those intentions seemed like a foolhardy idea. How was he going to keep himself away from her, especially now that she was his for a lifetime? "I promise you I didn't—"

She chuckled again, silencing his words with her mirth.Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. "Hush. I know." As if she'd lain down beside him all the time, Vanessa slowly eased backward, taking care to rest on her side. Her skirts pouffed out as she did so; the feminine rustle mixing with the crunch of the cornhusks underneath brought forth a smile.

"This gown was Mary's wedding dress," she murmured."Lainie sure does love it so. She must have told me ten times if she told me once that she couldn't wait to be a real bride."

She did look pretty. Had he thought to tell her? Clayton murmured, "Isn't wearing something lacy and frilly every girl's dream? Corrine told me that often enough." A flash of his sister on her wedding day came to mind. With some sadness, Clayton recalled that she hadn't worn anything fancy on that day. No, she'd only had on the same old, threadbare dress she'd worn the day before. 'Course, Merritt hadn't minded one bit.

"Maybe all girls dream of such things; I'm not sure." Vanessa said, bringing him back to the present. "I did feel special, though. This dress is as lovely as anything I've ever owned."A winsome smile played across her lips as she closed her eyes, effectively stopping their conversation.

But that didn't stop Clayton from wondering what she was thinking. This day had hardly been anyone's dream. A shotgun wedding in a borrowed dress to a man she didn't love, then forced to spend the night above a pair of roans in a dusty barn. No amount of quilts and pretty dresses could change things.

No amount of sweet words or heartfelt apologies could change how things were. No regrets could change the way things might have been.

As the sun sank and twilight faded the gilded glow and lengthened the shadows around them, Clayton reached for a match, struck it against the sole of his boot, then lit the kerosene lamp that was stored next to the washstand.

As the flickering glow replaced the fading shadows, he considered their situation.

This was their circumstance; it couldn't be changed.But even if their wedding wasn't one of little girls' dreams, Clayton felt that there'd had been times during the day that he'd never forget. Dinner had been hearty and filled with conversation.Ken and Mary had entertained them with stories about their engagement and marriage, delighting the children and reminding Clayton that they were both lucky to have survived the war. So many good men had not.

Vanessa had sat by his side and looked almost carefree.She'd laughed more in the last hour than in the past week.

Now, hoping to ease the tension that was almost tangible between them, he murmured, "Vanessa, honey, you do look beautiful."

Her eyes popped open, pleasure rising from their depths."Thank you."

As if she knew the train of his thoughts, she murmured, "Mary spoke with me right before I joined you and Ken. She uh, offered to answer any questions I might have."

Surely Vanessa was practiced at torture. Why else would she even think to bring that up? "What did you say?"

"I hope you won't mind . . . I said you'd already talked to me."

She shifted uncertainly, the movement rustling her petticoats and the husks underneath them. "Are you mad? I . . .didn't have the heart to tell her that I wouldn't need to know anything for quite a while. And after Price . . . " She swallowed."I'm afraid I couldn't think about it."

Her expectant pause forced him to speak. "I'm not mad."

Settling against the mattress again, Vanessa hugged a pillow as she balanced on her side. Looking into the shadows, she whispered, "Mama never told me much. I wish she had."

"That's okay."

"I don't know why she never did."

Marilyn never had been one for thinking ahead—or for thinking about Vanessa. "I guess she thought you had some time."

"I guess so. It is a shame that she wasn't here. I never thought she wouldn't watch me get married."

She sounded winsome. Unable to help himself, Clayton wrapped an arm around Vanessa and pulled her close so her back wouldn't be pressed against the mattress. As she sighed and situated herself, Clayton pretended he was back at the Circle Z and hugging her like he'd done when she'd gotten stung by a mess of angry hornets out in the pecan grove.

Yes, that was how he was holding her. Almost in a brotherly way.

However, he'd never felt anything less than brotherly. He'd never before been so aware of her presence. Had never had her head resting on his shoulder or her delicate palm lying flat on his heart. He'd never noticed that she smelled like spring jasmine silky powder. Fresh and clean and perfect.

All visions of doctoring hornet stings vanished in an instant.

"This feels kind of strange, doesn't it?" she murmured.

At least that, he could answer honestly. "It does."

"I thought I'd be scared, sitting like this with you, but I'm not." She shifted, moving one hand a little closer to his shoulder. Her hip brushed his side. "I'm glad I'm not scared."Eyelashes fluttered in embarrassment. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble."

He had to touch her. Gently brushing hair from her cheek, he murmured, "Don't worry. Please don't worry about a thing.Everything's going to be all right." He forced himself to say the words though he didn't know how to make them true. How would he support her? Where would they live? How could he ever come to terms with the fact that her pa had asked him to look out for her—as her guardian. Marriage had never even been considered.

She yawned. "You sound so sure."

Knowing she needed her sleep, Clayton relaxed as much as he could with Vanessa practically lying on top of him. "I'm glad I sound sure."

What would she do weeks or months from now, when gratitude wasn't clouding her thoughts? When the danger of being hunted by her stepfather wasn't on their minds?

When the terrible, awful memories of Price's hand had faded? What would they do then? She'd have her eye on someone younger, someone more suitable, and she'd be trapped with him—a man too old who'd seen too much.

"We should probably get to sleep. Morning comes early."

She sat up and pulled away. "Yes. I best change out of Mary's gown, too. I'll ruin it otherwise."

Clayton stood up, anxious to put some space between them.Now that he really thought about it, he was thinking that there wasn't really all that much room on that mattress. In fact, it was likely that when they both lay down, mere inches would separate them. "I could sleep down below, Van."

"Below?"

"With the horses. It won't be a hardship. I've slept in worse places."

"I couldn't sleep with you down there."

He gestured to the rug. "Or this would be fine.""Don't be silly, Clayton," Vanessa said over her shoulder as she started to unbutton her gown. "We've been together on the trail."

He supposed that was true. "I'm so tired anyway, I bet I won't move."

"Me, neither. And no more talk about going down and sleeping with the horses. I don't want to be up here alone."

"There's a slew of quilts so I guess we won't be too cold."He figured one could rest between them while they slept.

"I imagine we'll be just fine."

He could no longer delay the inevitable. "Well, then . . . I guess we best get settled." He unbuttoned his shirt, then his denims, taking care to hang each piece on the nails lining the wall. Clad only in the bottoms of his long johns, he crawled under the blankets.

After a pause, Vanessa continued to unfasten the long row of buttons down her front. Suddenly, shy, she turned her back to him as she slipped the gown off.