EMMA STARED AT THE STRANGER reflected in the mirror. That can’t be me.

Thanks to Lupe, her mother’s peach silk gown fit beautifully. Handmade ivory lace from her grandmother’s wedding dress formed a delicate topping over the bodice, highlighted by a single peach rose nestled between her breasts. A full skirt cascaded from the empire waist under an open tiered silk overlay decorated with delicate embroidery and more lace, then melted into a short train in the back. An off-the-shoulder neckline and short sleeves emphasized a graceful neck and ample bosom.

Lupe’s talented hands swept her hair into beautiful rolls and curls adorned with pale pink rose accents.

Sarah’s pixie face displayed an ear-to-ear smile. “You are so beautiful.”

“Si, Miss Emma,” agreed Lupe. “Señor Ty will be very happy to see this.”

Emma continued to stare at her reflection. “Lupe?” She turned to the woman who’d tended the family all her life. “Do I really look like her? My mother? I don’t remember anymore.”

“Si, you look much like her, Miss Emma.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance drawing her attention to the window. Outside, townspeople milled around the yard in preparation for the celebration. Short notice or not, a party was a party and they turned out for it.

“Oh no, please,” she whispered to no one in particular, “no rain today.”

“Do not worry, Miss Emma,” said Lupe as she went about straightening the room. “The rain will not come until tonight.”

Emma didn’t turn around as she spoke to Sarah. “How much longer?”

“Any minute now. Henry will come when they are ready.”

Henry would escort her down to the living room where her father and Ty waited.

She gasped and turned to Sarah. “What if I’m making a mistake?”

“Jitters are normal, Emma.” She patted her hand. “Ty’s a good man, not as handsome as my Henry of course, but nice to look at, and he will be good to you.”

He doesn’t love me.

“I know you are nervous about all this but I also know you have feelings for Ty,” she held up her hand to silence a reply, “whether you are ready to admit it or not. Personally, I think the two of you are perfect for one another.”

A light knock on the door preceded Henry’s soft, “Everything’s ready.”

“Here we go!” Sarah kissed her friend on the cheek. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” She opened the door and smiled at her husband. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Henry entered and kissed her on the cheek. “You look wonderful, Emma.”

She smoothed down the front of the dress. “It was my mother’s wedding dress.”

“It’s beautiful. And so are you. Ty is a lucky man.”

Suddenly, she swayed and gasped for air. Her heart pounded so hard she sensed each beat in her ears.

Henry grabbed her around the waist. “Easy, Emma, easy.” He moved her toward the nearest chair. “Just relax, try to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

She nodded, then inhaled a ragged breath, blowing it out through pursed lips.

“Good girl. Now do it again.”

One breath, then another. Each one easier than the one before. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He smiled. “If I remember right, the same thing that came over Sarah on our wedding day. Except you didn’t actually faint.”

She sniffed. “I’d forgotten she fainted.”

He knelt down in front of her. “Ty is a fine man, Emma; my best friend in the whole world. But if you aren’t absolutely certain about this, you don’t have to do it.”

She thought about Ty…his strength, his support…his kisses…and his promise of more to being husband and wife he could teach her, and knew she would do it. Not to satisfy her father’s ridiculous ultimatum or the morbid curiosity of the townspeople in attendance but because she really wanted to.

She loved him.

The realization made her heart stutter and skip, and perspiration coated her palms. I’ve loved him from the beginning.

She shook her head. “No. I want to do this.” She stood and squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

She picked up the bouquet of wildflowers Sarah made, linked her arm with Henry’s, and prepared to meet her fate.

Ty tugged at the too-tight shirt collar and surveyed the crowded room. He’d overheard enough to know quite a few attended just to see who would actually marry that wild Marshall girl. Others, like the Barkers from the mercantile, expressed genuine happiness for her.

When Sarah and Lupe rushed in, his mouth went dry. I’m getting married.

Reverend Johnson guided him to the flower-draped mantel where Rafe waited.

Someone, he thought maybe the preacher’s wife, played a familiar, melodic song on the piano in the corner. Beethoven’s Fur Elise. One of his mother’s favorites, she played it often. As the musical notes filled the air, fond memories of days long past soothed his soul. A good omen.

A rustle of movement filled the crowed parlor along with a collective gasp as Henry walked through the doorway with Emma. She paused and the room went silent. Her gaze found Ty and she smiled serenely, lifted her head high, and glided toward him.

An unexpected tempo set up in Ty’s chest, and took his breath away as he gazed at the vision before him.

She moved with an instinctive elegance and grace befitting any Georgia belle. Mother would’ve adored you. Stopping when they reached her father, she bent down and kissed his forehead as tears rolled down his cheeks. She placed a hand on his shoulder and faced forward.

“Who gives this woman to be married?” The preacher’s droll voice barely penetrated Ty’s over-stimulated brain.

“I do,” said Rafe. He took her hand, brushed his lips across the back and murmured, “You are so beautiful, Emma-girl. So beautiful.” Then, he pushed her hand toward Ty.

When he took it in his, he noted the tremble, the coolness, the sketchy breathing and vowed to himself he would do his absolute best to make her happy.

Henry moved Rafe’s chair and the brief ceremony was over in a matter of minutes.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The reverend’s directive, delivered in the same tiresome tone, hit home. I’m a married man now.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the straining necks of those gathered, waiting for this moment, and decided they would get no exhibition from him. The kiss was brief, but a whispered promise heightened the color on her cheeks. “A better one comes later.”

Rafe shook Ty’s hand, followed by Henry.

Sarah grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Congratulations to you both.”

The sea of well-wishers and gossip mongers swallowed them up in an instant.

Ty gave up trying to remember names as Emma, smile attentive, introduced him to one person after another.

They made their way through the crowd which soon filtered outside where temporary tables laden with every manner of food available were set up under the two massive live oaks for which the ranch was named.

Ty seized the opportunity and pulled her into the kitchen.

She slipped her hand from his and went to the crock on the counter.

He watched, spellbound as she immersed the dipper, brought it to her mouth and took a long, slow drink. A dribble found its way out and rolled over a plump, lower lip. She pulled the dipper back, and her tongue licked at the trail, sending rivulets of heat coursing through him. She took another long drink before swiping the remaining droplets away, her gentle laugh music to his ears and fodder for his growing desire.

“Didn’t realize how thirsty I was. Want some?” She held out the dipper to him.

He returned it to the crock. “I promised you a better kiss.”

He cupped her face and claimed her lips with a deep, sensual kiss as his tongue invaded her mouth, withdrew and invaded again. He deepened the kiss, and she clutched his arms, moved against him, tentative at first, then more firmly, visions of a real wedding night immediately forming. He snuffed them out. Despite her acceptance and expanding participation in his kisses, she wasn’t ready.

Unfortunately for him, he passed ready a long time ago.

His body pulsed with need. Every inch of him wanted her, craved her, and wouldn’t be satisfied until he had her. Maybe not even then. He needed to get himself under control before they re-joined their guests.

Control? Hell, who was he kidding? Damn thing could hammer nails right now.

He ended the kiss, his breath a ragged gasp as he struggled to restrain himself. “I, uh, need a few minutes before I join the party.”

The reason for his request pressed against her and she stepped back, those green orbs darkened with passion, her chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, drew his gaze, as her tongue, pink and slick, rolled over them like a cat lapping cream.

He shut his eyes, unable to stop the groan lodged in his throat.

Neither spoke until the uneven puffing dissipated and some semblance of regular breathing returned.

She broke the tense silence. “I know I’m…not what you expected in a wife…not a proper lady…but, thank you. For doing this.” She stopped, bit her lip and looked away.

He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, voice husky with barely controlled need, his body still suffering the effects of that potent kiss. “I don’t know what you’ve been told before, but there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”

“I cuss. Ladies don’t cuss. And I dress like man.”

He stood back, drank in every line, every curve, made no effort to hide the fact he pictured what lay beneath the silky garment. “You respond like a woman when I kiss you, your body feels like a woman when I touch it.” He smiled. “And for damn sure you look like one tonight. I guarantee you there ain’t man around here who has seen you in those jeans that don’t know you’re a woman.” His grin broadened, “In fact, I might have to put a stop to it just so I won’t need to kick someone’s ass for ogling yours.”

The minute he saw her lips tighten and her eyes narrow, he knew he’d said something wrong though he had no idea what. Well shit. Not married an hour and already pissed her off.

“And how do you plan to do that? Beat me? Break me down?” She whirled and started for the door.

He grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

Her voice rose, vibrated with tension. “I won’t be broken.” She jerked free and stared at him, eyes blazing.

“Broken? What the hell are you talking about?”

She stumbled back, hand clasped over her mouth.

“What do you mean you won’t be broken?”

“N-nothing…I just meant I won’t be ordered around.”

The tightness of her features, the way her voice shook said there was more to this than being order around. Why wouldn’t she tell him the rest?

He rubbed his face and hissed out a long breath. “I admit we don’t know each other very well, but by now you should at least know I would never hurt you. And for damn sure, I’ve no desire to break you.”

He spun around and stomped out the back door.