“Infernal man! Son of a…cockchafer!” Yes, that felt nice. Her cheeks were on fire and she chugged breath like a racehorse, but she didn’t care. He demanded she marry him, and on the day her father was put in the ground? If any less romantic gesture existed, she couldn’t name it. Decidedly uncivil of him. “Hey, let’s get married today. I have to get the cattle to the market,” she mocked in a deep, unattractive voice, swinging her hips.
Laughing, Lenny held up the cream colored dress.
Maggie glared at the flashy garment, biting her thumbnail. “I think not,” she said with a smile.
* * * *
The look on Garret Shaw’s face as she strode onto the front porch was a vision she would treasure for the rest of her life. Her dress was a daring red color and nearly recklessly low cut. Though the skirts were full and modest, the bodice clung to her form, and had small sleeves and layers of black beadwork. Never intending to wear the dress again, she’d brought it because it represented a cherished memory.
She had dared to wear it to a ball in Boston to upset her aunt, and indeed, Aunt Margaret almost had a conniption. The doctor was summoned to sort out her frayed nerves. For once in her life in that cold home—victory.
At the party she had worn a large necklace to make her feel more covered, but tonight, in the cool evening on Roy’s land, she left her collarbones exposed and cleavage bare. Though the necklace covered enough, the fabric’s lack of coverage was utterly scandalous. She had pulled her hair back with her boldest pins to expose the fair skin of her back. Several layers of rose salve and a dab of perfume between her breasts had finished her wedding look.
Never had she had more interested suitors nor a fuller dance card than on the night she’d worn the red dress to that ball.
Open mouthed, the look in his eyes icy with fury, Garret stared. The other men turned to see what had so fixed his gaze, and their expressions became eerily similar. Behind her, Lenny stifled laughter.
“Okay, boys, I do believe there is a wedding to be had. Let’s get this done, shall we?” Maggie snapped, marched to Garret and stood beside him. The preacher took his place in front of them.
“What happened to the white dress?” Garret gritted out from between clenched teeth.
“I lost it,” she said, glowering up at him. “And don’t tell me what to do.”
His narrowed gaze drifted to her decolletage then he spun toward the preacher, took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair.
The preacher cleared his throat and slid a glance to her dress. Once. Twice. He cleared his throat again and began the service. The look on Garret’s face should’ve turned her to stone. At the edge of her vision, Cookie stood, shoulders shaking from laughter that didn’t quite reach her.
The vows were simple enough, but as she tried not to think of what she was saying, she fumbled. This is my wedding day. I am marrying Garret Shaw, nagged and sent her pulse racing faster than it already was.
This day wasn’t at all how she’d imagined it would be. The entire time she and Garret repeated the vows, she glared at him and he at her, and when the preacher announced he may now kiss his bride, she gasped. Certainly not, would she be kissing Garret Shaw.
By Garret’s startled expression, he hadn’t considered kissing her, either. “That’s all right,” he said, almost growling. “I think Miss Flemming and I would like to forgo that one.”
“Mrs. Shaw,” the preacher corrected. “Now, kiss her so we can go.”
Garret stared at the preacher just long enough to make it awkward and sighed, then turned that steely blue gaze on her. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never kissed a man before. Which was as it should be, for she was a gently raised young lady. She didn’t doubt for a moment though, a man like Garret Shaw had experienced intimacy by the wagonload.
Eyes closed, she waited, unable to look at his angry face another second for fear of losing her courage. She felt his hands on her arms, a gentle touch, and the softest, barest brush of his lips against hers. A beat, then he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers. The fabric on his chest caressed the bare skin on hers. A warm sensation deep inside her pressed downward, and the need to feel closer to such a powerful creature was staggering.
He pulled away but left his hands on her arms for a moment longer. When she opened her eyes, a menacing glower rode his face. He pulled his hands away and the absence of his strong arms made her stumble forward.
“Load up,” he snapped, headed into the house, and without a look back at her, disappeared inside.
A trembling hand over the exposed skin of her chest did nothing to stifle the acute disappointment of Garret’s willingness to be absent.
* * * *
The men had packed her belongings and the few things she wanted to keep from Roy’s cabin in the wagon’s flatbed and tied Roy’s mules to the back of the buggy. Garret and his men drove Roy’s cattle to the ranch, which would cause them to arrive much later than she, Lenny and Cookie had.
She leaned against the wall opposite Garett’s bedroom and glared at the closed door for what seemed like a considerable amount of time. Would he expect her to share his bed? Naive though she was about the intricacies of intimacy, she was well aware of the marital duties expected of a woman. Garret’s angry leer did not bode well for gentleness from him tonight. She chose the room across the hall from his instead.
Miserable, she leaned against the closed door to her new bedroom as if it could keep all of the ghosts away. She’d had such high hopes of finding happiness in this wild place. Memories of her childhood home were ones she’d breathed for in the darkest days of Aunt Margaret’s care. It had taken years to carefully tend and grow the courage that led her to escape Society and seek out a relationship with Roy again. She’d dreamed of how this time would be, and within a day all her hopes had tumbled into the mouth of an insurmountable darkness.
Roy was gone and now she was married to a cold callous stranger. The war between the memories of her childhood friend and the man he’d become weighed on her heart. Surely she couldn’t shoulder any more emotional burdens. He wouldn’t care that she’d chosen a different room. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t enjoy sharing her marriage bed. How could he enjoy intimacy with someone he loathed? A combination of grief for her loss, fear of an uncertain future, and anger at an unwanted marriage to someone who would surely break her where Aunt Margaret failed turned her stomach into knots.
Biting her lip against treacherous sobs, she finished unpacking her belongings and lay on her new bed to quietly cry herself to sleep. This life was raw and surreal, a dark dream she would wake up from at any time and she desperately needed the sweet release of unconsciousness to begin to heal.
* * * *
Maggie opened her eyes to darkness. It must be late evening. Her ears prickled with the eerie silence of an empty house. Garret could be sleeping, but more likely, hadn’t come back from the ranch’s frantic attempt to ready everything for the cattle drive the next day. Cookie had told her this was Garret’s first time heading up the drive, and a lot rode on it since this would be the first step in saving the ranch. If it didn’t go well, or they didn’t get the price they needed, the ranch would go under. And fast.
Seated at the small desk in the corner of Garret’s den, she lit the wick of a candle that waited readily upon it. She guessed she could call it her den as well, which seemed bizarre.
My dearest Uncle,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, even though I know you are missing me terribly, as I’m sure there has been absolutely no entertainment since I left. Who will you secretly tease and laugh at in my absence? All fun aside, this letter will shock and sadden you, and then shock you again. Don’t worry if you