The Marshal's Rebellious Bride (18 page)

No amount of
protesting, no amount of trying to resist stopped her from ending up standing
less than a foot from Morgan Rydell. She was furious with her brothers. She was
angry with her father for having sent a wire expressing his happiness at her
finally getting married. She detested the man with so many hard edges to his
personality, so many secrets, and who still wore a badge.

Then he
focused his dark blue eyes on her and she saw such warmth, such passion in
them. He could be such a contradiction at times. Her silly heart pounded.
Nothing mattered but being held within his embrace, being kissed by him.

The sheets around her tightened even more as she
attempted to roll over.

Morgan held
her hand in the crook of his arm as they walked out of the church. Wedding
guests poured out of the building as well. People called out
well-wishes
,
laughed, and talked amongst themselves. A handful of children tossed flower
petals at them. She smiled in adoration up at her new husband.

And then a
shot rang out.

Morgan
flinched and, though she tried to hold him upright, he crumpled to the ground
at her feet.

Blood, so
much blood, spilled from a wound in the center of his chest. His glassy eyes
stared unseeingly up at her.

She screamed. She fought the sheets and screamed
again.

She dropped
down next to Morgan. This couldn’t be happening! Not again. She bent over him,
cupped his face.
Cold, so cold.

“No!” she cried out, struggling even more now.

Determined to
blow life back into his body, she put her mouth to his. He didn’t respond,
didn’t kiss her back. Didn’t breathe.

She tried to
shake him.

Nothing.

Hands gripped
her shoulders to pull her back. All she could do was stare into Morgan’s
lifeless eyes and feel the biting pain of losing the man she loved.

“No! No! No!” she cried out in torment, battling what
held her so tightly.

Finally the dream released her. Heart pounding, tears
streaming down her face, she flashed her eyes open.
My room. Not real.
Only a dream
.

She managed to tear away the sheets and sit up on the
bed, shaking from the nightmare.

The door to her room flew open, banged against the
wall. Morgan and Taos competed for who would enter the bedroom first with
Morgan winning. Both men were sleep tousled and wearing only pants obviously
dragged on in a hurry. She barely remembered that he had started sleeping in
the main house, down the hall from her, only a couple of days ago.

Before she could protest, he was sitting on the side
of the bed and tugging her into his embrace. She should resist, knew it was
improper not to and yet she melted into his arms. His large hands smoothed her back
and then held her tightly. With only her thin nightgown separating them, she
felt his heart pounding against hers.

Pull away
. But she couldn’t.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky tone after
several seconds, still holding her to him. He’d threaded his hands in her hair,
fingered it now.

Taos stood beside the bed and frowned, probably not
liking how closely Morgan was holding her. “You can probably let her go now,”
he said, touching Morgan’s shoulder. “It must have been one of her nightmares
about…”

Morgan slowly released her and climbed off the bed.
His jaw clenched and then he said in a tone shimmering with barely suppressed
jealousy, “About that lawman you were going to marry? The one who died?”

She wasn’t surprised he knew about Ace’s death. He’d
known about her engagement to Ace because she’d babbled about it to him well
over a year ago when she’d burst into her brother’s bedroom and found him
instead. His reaction now surprised her. But then he’d been surprising her a
lot lately. Like when he’d kissed her so intensely her toes had almost curled
the evening she’d cooked that awful dinner.

Embarrassed, she pulled the sheet up over her
nightgown and held it in place. “No. I was dreaming about
our
wedding day.” She shuddered, felt sick, and let them see the
tears still in her eyes. “You…someone shot you as we left the church. You died
right there. I couldn’t bring you back.” Her admission came out shakily,
quietly.

He blinked and all the irritation in his expression
disappeared. He lowered his voice into a gentle, rumbling tone, “It was just a
dream. Nothing but a dream.” He started to reach out to touch her cheek but she
pulled back, then he did, too.

Taos looked uneasy, worried. “Do you want some water?
Something else?” Clearly he was at a loss for helping her, but needed to do
something.

She shook her head. There were times when he could be
such a bad ass, and others when he could be caring. “I’m fine.”

Taos left the room anyway. “Yes, you do. I’ll go get a
pitcher of water and a glass.” It was obvious he wanted to do something and
that was all he could think of to do.

Morgan stared at her, looking helpless, looking
guilty.

She swiped away tears and said quietly, “I can’t go
through that again.”

His brow pinched together in uncertainty and a lock of
thick, black hair fell forward. He jammed it back. “I’m
not
going to die on you like that, Angelina. I’m
not
!”

“You don’t know that for sure. You can’t know.” She
tugged the sheet up higher.

His frustration returned and he blew out a heavy breath.
“I’m not a fool kid with a gun and a badge like that deputy was. I’m
not him
.”

She felt almost like he’d slapped her, accused her of
being a foolish child. “No, you’re nothing like Ace.” The differences were
becoming stronger every day. To her irritation, it was Morgan who appealed to
her, who she knew in her
gut
would make a better
husband.
If she could allow it, which she couldn’t.

 
He rubbed
at his beard-stubbled jaw and then said firmly, “You’ve got to get past your
fears. You’ve got to let yourself live.”

She gaped at him. Was she really so caught up in
fearing what had happened, what
might
happen, that she was closing herself off from happiness the rest of her life?
Not all lawmen were shot and killed. And, yes—if she were truthful with
herself—she realized now just how young and foolish Ace had been. He’d always
been anxious to prove he was good with a gun, when he wasn’t really. He’d always
been eager to prove he was a tough lawman, which he wasn’t.

Morgan was nothing like Ace. He didn’t have to prove
he could handle a gun. His reputation was
well-earned
and well-known. He was fast and deadly with a gun. He could be ruthless, too,
when hunting down an outlaw. She knew all of that about him and wasn’t afraid
of him…except of him being killed. Fast and deadly didn’t mean he couldn’t have
a bad
day, that
some other gunman wouldn’t get the
better of him.

She fought not to let tears return. Her throat hurt
from swallowing so hard. Her mind couldn’t get past the knowledge that he had
enemies, one of whom was now threatening his son in some way. It was that
threat that concerned her, that haunted her dreams.

“I just don’t know if I can live with all the
worrying,” she whispered after a few awkward seconds.

“You didn’t say
can’t
.
You said
don’t know
.” Some of the
tension drained from his expression. He looked hopeful.

Weary of the conversation, of the mixed feelings she
had about him, she didn’t respond. She didn’t want to talk any more about the
matter.

Slowly she became aware that he was half-dressed or more
aware anyway. She should look away, but couldn’t. His shoulders were wider than
Taos’s; his chest muscles bigger. A four-inch thin white scar ran diagonally
across the left side of his ribs. Two small, jagged round wounds marred the
perfection of his right shoulder area. Battle wounds, some would say signs of
his strength of will. He’d survived. Oddly, she found that she wanted to touch
those wounds, kiss them…heal him.

Heat crept up her neck, up her face. She didn’t want
him to know she found him fascinating to look at. “You can leave now. I’m
fine.”

But at the same time, she wanted him to stay. She
wanted him to kiss her again, like he had the other day. And that would be a
mistake.

As if he sensed something changing between them,
something that would be wrong, he headed for the door, and then faced her. “I’m
still taking you into town today for that dress fitting.”

“But…” He’d threatened that the night of the ruined
dinner, the night he’d kissed her breath away. Fortunately he’d gotten busy
around the ranch and the trip had been delayed, until now.

“It was a nightmare. Not a vision of what will happen.
Get that straight, Angelina,” he said grimly, and then his expression softened.
“It’s still early. Try to get some rest.”

He had no sooner walked away than Taos carried in a
ceramic pitcher of water and a glass. He set them on the small table next to
the bed and gave her a wary smile. “Trust in him, Sis.”

“Trusting him is one thing, but…”

Taos bent down to gently kiss the top of her head. As
he straightened and walked to the doorway, he said, “Morgan will make you a
good husband. You can let yourself love him.”

* * *

Two days later Whiskey was riding into Dodge City on
her favorite horse and continuing to thank her lucky stars that Morgan hadn’t
been able to follow through on his promise—threat—about taking her
into town for a dress fitting. When she’d dragged herself down to breakfast the
morning after her nightmare, she found he and Taos talking intently with a
couple of the ranch hands. Several fences had been knocked down and some cattle
were missing. They’d ridden out to deal with the problems and she hadn’t seen
them since. Yesterday she’d kept busy working with her animals and tending to
the horse with the bum leg. Today she was on her way into town to see Camelia
and to get some supplies at the general store.

The ride had been good, settling. As she finally
spotted the buildings of Dodge City ahead, a soft breeze swirled around her
carrying the scent of prairie grass mixed with wildflowers. Even the summer
heat wasn’t unbearable today. It was a good day.

She was happy to be away from the ranch and the
constant worry over when Morgan might show up and demand to take her into town.
She was more than happy that Manuel had returned and banned her from his kitchen.
And she felt good about the progress the injured horse was making. She was good
with animals, really good, which made her even more determined to prove that to
others. So another reason for going to town today was to put up a poster
advertising her services as an animal doctor on the community board in the
general store. Her brothers and Morgan wouldn’t like that, she suspected.

The notion spoiled her mood just a little. Somehow she
had to convince not only Morgan and her brothers but also the other ranchers in
the area that she could doctor their livestock. Morgan worried that one of the
big animals would hurt her. She suspected the other ranchers would worry about
the same thing. It seemed that all her life she’d been trying to prove herself.
Probably it was harder for her because she always seemed to want to do
something that wasn’t considered “right” or proper for a woman. It seemed to
her that men only thought a woman capable of cooking, cleaning, and basically
doting on them.

She frowned in disgust.
She
wasn’t that kind of woman. Maybe Brandy was like that, she
didn’t know at this point, since she hadn’t seen her twin in over two years.
But Brandy had always been more ladylike, taken after their gentle, beautiful
mother more than she had. She was what she was. Either a man accepted her ways
or he didn’t. Either Morgan…

A flock of birds suddenly flew out of the bushes
alongside the river.

She tensed, stiffened in the saddle. Her heart raced.
Something didn’t feel right. She didn’t feel alone.

But when she glanced toward the river and then scanned
all around her, she couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. Still, it
didn’t feel right.

Wary now, she nudged her mount into a gallop. Maybe
she’d talk Keno into riding back to the ranch with her later.

* * *

Morgan stepped out of Mueller’s Boot Shop, a
half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, and glanced around. After a long
day mending fences and chasing down cattle rustlers, he’d ended up coming into
town to wind down. He’d stayed the night in one of the rooms over the Dusty
Trails Saloon and decided to check on some new boots this morning.

He rolled his sore shoulders and knew he should be
heading back to the ranch. Back to fetch Whiskey and bring her in to see that
dressmaker. But he wasn’t ready to see her just yet. Her nightmare had bothered
him. The tears on her face, the fear in her eyes…they’d torn at him. Was he
doing wrong by her? He had come to accept their getting married, in truth
looked forward to it. Which had to mean he was half-crazy. But he wanted her,
wanted her in his bed and, strangely, wanted to share in her zest for life. A
zest that maybe he threatened to shatter by marrying her.
Damn
.