THEY had their late supper in the dining room, which had been transformed while they’d toured the house. The long, glossy table had been set with fine china and crystal and fresh-cut flowers. A beautiful candelabra sat next to the flowers, and it cast a warm romantic glow over the large, dimly lit room. There was even a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of shaped ice.
McClain seated her and set about opening the champagne with an ease and expertise that suggested he’d had more than a little practice. He didn’t spill a drop, and quickly poured a conservative amount in two wine flutes.
It was just another indication that Oren McClain was hardly the country bumpkin she’d first taken him for. All week as they’d dined out, she’d come to realize that he was more than adept at knowing which fork to use, and his gallant manners convinced her that he would be completely competent and at ease in any situation. She was a little ashamed to have ever thought otherwise.
And she’d learned that the beautiful tuxedo he’d worn at Buffy’s party was not the only one he owned—she’d seen two others in his closet just now—so he’d apparently had extensive practice with formal occasions.
McClain took his place at the head of the table, and she liked that she was seated to his right. She’d shared endless numbers of meals with a grandfather who’d dictated that she sit at the end of their long table opposite him at the head. The custom was part and parcel of the emotional distance she’d been raised with, so she liked the cozier feel of this.
McClain lifted his wine flute and waited until she’d lifted hers.
“Would you like to propose the first toast, or shall I?”
“Why don’t you?”
As if he’d preferred to be first, a slow smile softened his stern mouth. “To the next fifty years…and more.”
The and more wasn’t only about the count of years. Stacey read it in the glittering intensity of his dark gaze, and she suddenly felt shy as she touched her wine flute to his and then drank the small amount of champagne.
As McClain poured another shallow measure of champagne, Stacey thought of several possible toasts, but none of them seemed very spectacular, though there was one thing that was certainly a heartfelt hope.
When he was ready, Stacey offered a soft, “May we…be happy all those fifty years to come…and more.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he touched his glass to hers and they drank the toast. Then they started on their supper. It was a fairly common meal of steamed vegetables, baked potatoes and thick, juicy steaks, and perhaps that was because it was the kind of no-nonsense meal McClain seemed to prefer, as she’d seen in New York.
Unlike her vegetarian friends, Stacey enjoyed steak, and though hers had been simply prepared, it was perfectly done. She might not know how to cook, but she certainly appreciated fine cooking.
And perhaps a hefty share of her enjoyment had far more to do with her relief that McClain had a very competent cook and wouldn’t need his wife to do it for him. Her worries over that had vanished, just as her worries about keeping his house had vanished the moment she’d seen the size of it.
“I hope you don’t mind that we aren’t going on a honeymoon right away,” McClain said then. The remark surprised Stacey and she glanced over to see him watching her face.
“We’ve been so busy that I haven’t given a thought to honeymoons,” she said, and she truly hadn’t. Theirs wasn’t necessarily a union that followed all the usual traditions, and this week had been unbelievably rushed.
“I’ve spent enough time away that I need to stay close by for a while,” he said. “We’ll go somewhere later, maybe after the fall gather.”
She had no idea what a “gather” was, so she ignored it for now. “Do you like to travel?”
“The better part of my time’s spent here, but I’ve got someone to travel with now. It’s bound to be more enjoyable.”
Stacey smiled a little at that. It was a sweet thing to say to a new wife, but it was also a small signal that McClain might be open to a lifestyle change or two if she wanted it.
“Traveling is nice, but I tend to enjoy things closer to home as well,” she told him. It was a reciprocal thing to say to him, and she had done it partly to send the message that she was also open to lifestyle changes.
It was also the truth. She had friends who jetted across the world at the drop of a hat, but she wasn’t as enamored of that. On the other hand, she’d had a very full social life in New York. Depending on how well she tolerated the isolation of the ranch—and the flight from San Antonio had emphasized that sense of isolation—she might soon welcome more frequent travel.
“In place of going on a trip right away,” McClain went on, bringing her attention back to the subject he apparently wanted to pursue, “I’d like us to spend some time together here. I need to stay involved a few hours a day with the ranch, but we can use the rest of the time to get to know each other better.”
Stacey couldn’t help but be touched by that, but the feeling began to ebb as he went on.
“You need to get used to things, and that includes learning how this place runs. If something happens to me, we both need to know you can take it on. The best place to start is with little things. Like learning to ride.”
Stacey stared, taken aback. He couldn’t mean that the way he’d said it, could he? Learning to ride was one thing, but the idea that she might ever be expected to run this massive ranch—or need to—was staggering. She’d been worried about having to cook or clean his house, but this was worlds beyond those paltry concerns.
And particularly after her horrible failure to manage her own family’s fortune, she didn’t want to be responsible for McClain’s fortune. This wasn’t trust funds and investments, it was ranching and oil and who knew what else? Stacey suddenly felt a little sick.
“You aren’t serious…” she began, unable to keep the edge of horror out of her soft voice.
“As serious as a funeral, Miss Stacey, if you’ll pardon the bad pun. You’re bright enough. Your confidence has a way to go, but you’ve got it in you to take on anything you want to. And maybe that’s the key: anything you want to take on.”
At first, her brain skipped over the little nettle in the end of that because she’d heard something else that distracted her. Something that made her feel odd and a little flattered, as if Oren McClain had looked inside her and found something admirable that no one else had seen. Something she hadn’t seen, but also something she wasn’t certain was really there.
Her grandfather had given no sign that he’d ever seen any potential for spunk or competence in her, which might have been why he’d had his businesses liquidated in his last years so all she’d have to contend with was money and trust funds and investments. What McClain had just said indicated he’d seen at least something he considered worthwhile. Either that or he’d imagined it because he’d wanted to.
Didn’t he realize she’d married him because she’d failed her responsibilities? She’d told him how she’d lost her money, so she’d taken it for granted that he’d realize she’d married him looking for an easy way out of her mess. After all, neither of them pretended this marriage was about love.
That was part of why she was so staggered by the idea of preparing to take over all this in McClain’s place, if need be. Particularly when taking over here would be akin to the notion of stepping in as governor of Texas!
A nervous gulp of water did little to soothe the dryness in her mouth, and eventually she set her glass aside. She couldn’t eat another bite of her meal, so she set her napkin beside her plate.
“If you’d like to use the shower first, I can clear the table for Alice,” McClain said. It took her a moment to make the mental shift to a new subject and remember that Alice was his cook. Stacey’s gaze shot toward the elegant clock on the wall across from her, then back to meet McClain’s.
“But it’s just nine o’clock,” she said, caught off guard again by the suggestion that he expected the evening to end this soon. Since she rarely went to bed before one or two in the morning, she wondered how on earth she’d get to sleep. But then she realized sleep was the last thing McClain had in mind.
“We get up by five out here,” he said as he rose to step over and ease her chair back for her, “so it’s late at nine.”
Stacey stood, flustered. One moment he’d made an announcement that had thrown her into complete chaos, then he’d switched to another subject that was almost as troubling. He clearly expected complete intimacy tonight—perhaps within the hour—but she needed more time to prepare herself emotionally.
Desperate to slow things down between them, she ventured a soft, “Perhaps we could both clear the table? I heard—Connie, wasn’t it?—mention some messages in the den.” She left it there when she saw the glimmer of humor in his dark eyes.
“It’s hard to remember things like messages on a night like tonight.”
Stacey’s cheeks went hot but she didn’t comment. McClain accepted her small delay and took the champagne bucket with him to the kitchen before he brought back a tray.
That was the moment the silence between them became more intense, and the realization slowly began to increase her awareness of the rising tension between them. While McClain took care of putting out the candles, Stacey stacked their tableware on the tray.
It was hard to ignore that the air between them seemed to grow charged. The longer the silence stretched, the more she felt as if electricity were arcing and snapping between them, building volt by volt toward some spectacular peak. Any sensuality between them before seemed almost tame now that this raw feeling of anticipation was in the air.
They went to the big kitchen in that same ocean of charged silence. The sense that the evening was now racing toward those moments not far away when they’d share a bed, was becoming acute.
At least she knew how to load a dishwasher. Too quickly Stacey finished the task and added the soap before McClain closed the door and pressed the buttons to get it started. Then he caught her hand and drew her into his arms.
His gaze was intent as he studied her flushed face. “You’re nervous about tonight.”
At least he seemed to understand about that, and a faint smile played over his mouth as his voice went lower. “Don’t be nervous. I might feel like I’ve waited years for tonight, but I know it’s a little more sudden for you.”
She noticed he hadn’t let her off the hook. But then, the feeling of being in his arms, pressed against his hard length, was having the same dizzying effect on her as it always had, and she was rapidly melting.
He was her husband now, and he was certainly experienced enough to overcome her natural modesty. Hadn’t the fact that he so easily overwhelmed her in the past been part of why she’d shied away from him months ago? But she had the security of marriage now, so being overwhelmed surely wouldn’t feel as threatening.
His dark head descended, and his cool, firm lips settled on hers. Instead of the fiery kiss she’d expected, this kiss was coaxing and unrushed. And it didn’t last very long, which was a new surprise. Nevertheless, her eyes were slow to open as McClain lifted his head.
“Why don’t you go on in and do whatever it is you want to do? I’ll be in soon.”
Stacey as much as oozed out of his arms as stepped back, and because she worried that she’d somehow freeze up later and not be as strongly affected, she almost wished he’d continued on and had actually started seducing her now. She tried to come up with a smile that didn’t look uneasy, though she sensed she’d failed when she saw the faint spark in his gaze.
“I’ll try not to be…too long,” she said, then immediately regretted that her breathless words had made it sound as if she was hinting that she couldn’t wait and that he could hurry in.
She wouldn’t be any good at this, no good at all!
As Stacey went to the bedroom end of the large ranch house on legs that felt shaky, she tried to remember everything she’d heard or read about men and sex. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter so much if she wasn’t good at it.
Oh, who was she kidding? Good sex was a priority with all men, so it had to be an even higher priority with a wildly macho man like McClain.
Glum and half sick, she got her things for bed and shut herself in the large master bath, so troubled over everything that she felt like jumping out of her skin. A quick shower and several minutes blow-drying her hair did little to soothe away her nervousness.
It was too soon. She was terribly fond of McClain, and he seemed to be quite fond of her, but neither of them had so much as hinted that their fondness was anywhere near the realm of love. They had chemistry in spades, and yet they didn’t truly know much about each other, not really. Not even as much as newly acquainted friends with common interests.
She’d read articles about how having sex too soon interrupted and stunted the emotional maturing of a relationship, and that early sex had the potential to prevent a relationship from ever deepening. Because she’d always seen sex as the ultimate expression of deep, committed love, she’d hoped this week that they’d somehow fall madly in love.
Though she didn’t exactly believe in love at first sight, she did believe deep attraction could rapidly evolve into love. But the fact that it hadn’t happened yet for her was a sure indication that it couldn’t possibly have happened yet for McClain.
He seemed so intent on advancing the sensual side of their marriage that she was beginning to doubt that love was even a marginal priority for him. He’d as much as declared it when he’d proposed again. What he’d said about chemistry and choice seemed even more significant now.
Perhaps brutally masculine and very physical men tended to assign value only to the carnal side of a relationship and barely gave a thought to the emotional side. Her belief was the exact opposite, but now that bedtime was so close there seemed no chance at all for tonight to be about anything more than sex.
Stacey finished with her hair and briefly checked her appearance in the huge mirror. The satiny white of her floor-length nightgown and matching robe made her look almost untouchably pure. With her blond hair curving neatly to her shoulders, her pale skin, and the vivid blue of her eyes, she was the visual depiction of virginal femininity.
She felt a little relieved by her almost ethereal reflection. Perhaps McClain’s eagerness would be undermined by it. She hadn’t exactly indicated that she’d had vast experience in the bedroom so perhaps there was still a way to get him to realize how monumental this was for her. And once he realized that, he might consider waiting until stronger feelings developed between them.
Stacey heard a small sound out in the bedroom. It took almost all the courage she had to open the bathroom door and walk out, but she made herself do it before she could lose her nerve. If all else failed, she needed to be mature about this.
But the moment she saw McClain in the black pajama bottoms that seemed to emphasize the width of his broad shoulders and the incredible muscle definition of his hard chest and middle, she felt her courage vanish along with her breath.
His bride was beautiful enough to hurt his eyes, but it was an ache well worth enduring.
After a quick look at his messages that assured there was nothing pressing to deal with, Oren had come to the bedroom to grab a few things and shower in one of the guest bathrooms. To avoid shocking his very nervous bride, he’d found a pair of pajama bottoms to put her at ease.
But then she’d walked out and her pretty blue eyes had landed instantly on the bare expanse of his chest and he saw the slight flutter of lashes that told him he’d shocked her anyway.
But her effect on him more than returned the favor. Dressed in the kind of white satin nightclothes that both concealed and provided tantalizing outlines, all she needed was a set of wings and a magic wand to look like some beautiful fairy princess out of a kid’s book. Or an angel.
Oren liked that she wasn’t quite the big city sophisticate now. Instead, she looked vulnerable and uncertain and shy. The fine manners that she used to keep herself aloof and safe weren’t quite enough to accomplish those things now, and it was plain in the faint worry in her eyes that she knew it.
What she didn’t know was that he wasn’t quite the oversexed brute she might be afraid he was. It was their wedding night, but he didn’t need road signs and a barricade to know she wasn’t ready to go as far as he might like. Besides, he had other reasons to make himself wait.
And yet, he wouldn’t make any rash promises. As a man who’d prided himself in his sexual self-control, Oren’s sudden lack of confidence in that was a surprise. But Stacey was his wife now, and he reckoned it was the whole idea of being married that made him less sure he could hold back. In his mind, marriage was the place to give free rein to sexual desire and he’d looked forward to it.
But not tonight. His good intentions wouldn’t last too many more nights, but he not only meant to wait for things to happen more naturally between them, he was waiting for the outcome of something that might be very important to his new wife. And it didn’t take instinct to know Stacey would be grateful, both now and later on.
She’d stopped when she’d seen him standing by the bed, and in the seconds that followed, she’d laced her fingers together in front of her. He recognized that as an effort to maintain her calm poise, though to him it looked more like she was trying to hold herself together.
He held out a hand and waited until she’d walked over and put her fingers in his.