It was so hot the morning of her wedding, Portia almost dreaded having to put on the beautiful gown made by Luz Salinas. She was clothed in all the layers a woman traditionally wore, and adding the gown on top would only increase her discomfort. She prayed she didn’t faint from heat stroke. Regan, already dressed and looking beautiful in her pale blue gown, entered to help her with her hair.
“I’m jealous,” Regan said, plying the hot hair iron.
“Why?”
“Because later today, you’ll be Mrs. Kent Randolph and I’ll still be Miss Regan Carmichael.”
“Haven’t found your mail-order husband yet?” Portia teased.
Regan went so still, Portia turned around so she could see her face. “Regan?”
She didn’t respond, but the guilt on her face let Portia know instantly that something was very wrong. “Tell me or I swear I’ll go and get Aunt Eddy.”
“I was going to wait and tell you in a few days.”
“Tell me now, please.”
“I’ve found him. He’s a doctor in Wyoming. We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks now.”
Portia stared.
“He sounds perfect, Portia. He’s a widower. Only eight years older, and he has a young daughter. And before you say anything else, I have agreed to marry him.”
Filled with panic, Portia shouted, “What! You really are going to be a mail-order bride? But why?”
“One, because there’s no one here I want to marry and, two, for the adventure of it.”
“Sweetheart, this is marriage you’re talking about. This isn’t an adventure like delivering mail. Suppose he isn’t who he claims to be? What if he turns out to be someone who harms you? What if everything he’s written is a lie?”
“What if it isn’t?”
Portia had no response for that, but she worried that the man might be taking advantage of her sister’s quest for love. “Does Eddy know?”
“No, and I’m still trying to decide how to approach her and Uncle Rhine with the news.”
“Lord, Regan.”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re not supposed to spend your wedding day wondering if I’ve lost my mind.”
“Have you?”
“No. From his letters, he needs me, Portia, and so does his daughter.”
Portia’s love for Regan and the need to keep her safe competed with her desire for Regan to find her own version of the happiness she’d found with Kent. Portia reminded herself that Regan was a grown woman and in many ways more experienced in life than she was, but still, to go all the way to Wyoming to be the bride of a man she’d only corresponded with for a few weeks?
“Can you try and be happy for me?”
“Oh, honey, you know I am, but are you sure this is wise?”
“I am.”
Portia wanted to shout that she couldn’t go but knew she didn’t have that right. Nor did she want Regan to sneak off in the middle of the night without so much as a good-bye. The girl had always been headstrong. “Okay. I’m not going to fuss. If you have your mind made up, then I’ll support you if Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine go through the roof.”
Regan smiled and hugged her. “Thanks, Portia.”
Portia held her tight and wanted to weep. They’d been together their entire lives. It had been them against a world that had initially offered nothing but poverty and heartache. What would life be without her? She was already feeling the loss. Easing away, she looked Regan in the eyes. “But if this man turns out to be a monster, I expect you to pack up and come home.”
“I will. Promise.”
Regan went back to doing Portia’s hair but Portia couldn’t rid of herself of her worry. As if reading her thoughts, Regan said gently, “Stop worrying, Portia. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
Portia nodded but the worry remained. Eventually as they talked about all the day had in store, Regan’s plans no longer plagued Portia like a sore tooth. She knew the worry would return eventually but she let the prospect of becoming Mrs. Kenton Randolph rise to the fore again. With that in mind, she got dressed.
The gown was a lovely cream color with a lace inset between the neck and bodice. It had a flowing skirt, small capped sleeves that left her arms bare and was easily the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen. Her new shoes were cream colored and accented with soft gold bows. Her stockings and garters were the same color as her gown. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she almost didn’t recognize herself.
“You look so gorgeous, Kent’s going to want to eat you with a spoon.”
A soft knock interrupted them. It was Eddy. She was dressed in a resplendent mauve gown that she wore as if she were royalty. When she looked at Portia tears welled in her eyes. “Oh my. Look how beautiful you are.”
Regan wiped at her own tears. “Aunt Eddy, stop. You’ll have us all weeping in a minute.”
“But look at her,” she said again.
Tears stung Portia’s eyes. “You look beautiful, too.”
“Thank you. I just came in to tell you the guests have arrived and your uncle Rhine’s waiting out in the hallway. When you’re ready, just come out.”
Eddy kissed Portia’s cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She kissed Regan’s cheek, too. “I love you, too, and you can’t get married for at least twenty more years. I won’t know what to do if I lose both of my girls.”
Eddy left wearing a watery smile and when the sisters were alone again, they shared a guilty look. Regan said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”
“Thanks for your help.”
Regan gave her a wink and was gone.
Refusing to let her worry about Regan rise again, Portia drew in a deep breath, picked up her bouquet of wildflowers, and stepped out into the hallway.
Her uncle Rhine, clad in formal black and white attire, said, “You look very beautiful, Portia.”
Butterflies were taking flight in her stomach. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready to get married?”
“Yes.”
He gallantly offered his arm and escorted her away.
When Portia appeared on Rhine’s arm, she was so beautiful it made Kent ache. He’d never experienced such a sensation before. He wanted to hand out blindfolds to every man in attendance and demand they be tied on so he’d be the only who could see her. Her hair was up, and she wore a light application of face paint that made her cat-eyed features even more alluring. Beside him, his father Oliver whispered, “You have a gorgeous bride, Kenton.”
Kent thought the word didn’t even come close to describing his duchess.
Rhine walked her to Kent’s side and after placing a kiss on her brow, stepped aside to stand with the teary-eyed Eddy. Kent took her hand in his. He looked down, met her shining eyes, and he was so happy inside he wanted to kick up his heels and yell “Hot damn!” With the sober-faced Reverend Cordell standing before them, Bible in hand, he decided that was probably inappropriate, so he calmed himself and prepared to recite the vows.
The vows were recited, the marriage sealed and blessed, and Reverend Cordell said to Kent, “You may now kiss your bride.”
Their kiss was met with much hooting and hollering and applause from the large crowd. When he finally turned her loose and they faced the people who’d gathered, he said in a voice only she could hear, “Now, everybody go the hell home so I can make love to my wife.”
She giggled, elbowed him gently and said, “Behave.”
The reception took place in the ballroom and the Fontaine Hotel and its staff did the newlyweds proud. There was enough food to feed the entire territory and the champagne flowed like waterfalls. There was music, dancing, and many toasts. Matt got so drunk off two flutes of champagne, Regan found him asleep outside beneath one of the tables. Kent remarked that his assistant foreman couldn’t hold his pie or his liquor. As evening arrived and the sun went down, Portia was glad she and Kent were married, but after all the celebrating her feet were hurting, she was hot and tired, and all she wanted to do was take off her gown and crawl into bed. Eddy walked over. “You look exhausted. It’s okay if you and Kent want to leave.”
“We can?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank you.”
A multitude of raucous guests escorted Portia and Ken to the cottage. After opening the door, he scooped her up in his arms to carry her over the threshold and they roared their approval. Grinning, he turned to them and said, “Thank you and good night.”
He carried her inside and kicked the door closed. On their way to the bedroom, the cheering outside could still be heard, but as they entered it, only silence remained. She looked up into the eyes of her husband and said, “Finally we’re alone.”
“Finally.” And he gently set her on her feet.
“A few minutes ago my feet were hurting, I was hot and tired, and all I wanted was to take off this dress and crawl into bed.”
“And now?”
“I still want to take off this dress and crawl into bed, but with you.”
“Perfect answer—partially.”
She was confused. “What do you mean?”
“I get to take off your dress.”
She laughed. “Will you always be this outrageous?”
“As long as we’re both breathing.” He ran a slow thumb down her cheek. “Thank you for marrying me.”
Her heart swelled with all the love she had for her outrageous cowboy. “You’re welcome.”
Their wedding night began with a series of lazy lingering kisses that were as familiar as they were welcome. In spite of the day’s heat and the discomfort, they’d both been waiting for this moment for a long time. After tonight, she’d be a woman in every sense of the word.
He whispered, “Turn for me, love.”
She complied. He undid the line of small covered buttons that ran down her spine and when he finished, helped her ease her arms free of the delicate capped sleeves to expose the cream-colored silk shift that covered her corset. He brushed adoring lips over the flesh bared by the garments, the back of her neck, and the crowns of her shoulders while his hands moved up and over the breasts mounded by the veiled corset. “You have on too many clothes, Mrs. Randolph. How about you step out of your dress?”
She did and he placed it on the chair nearby.
Her shift was disposed of next, which left her dressed in her corset, gartered stockings, drawers, and fancy shoes. He liked the sensual vision she presented and ran a finger over the tops of her breasts. “I’m surprised you didn’t drop from the heat with all these things on, but I like this corset.”
“Do you?”
“Very much.”
Edged in lace and adorned with tiny seed pearls, it was made for a man’s adoring eyes, but it was soon rucked down so he could feast wantonly, and all she could do was moan and stand on legs that shook in response to each passionate circling of his enticing tongue and draw of his expert mouth. His hands found the dampness between her thighs and by the time he removed her drawers and they moved to the bed, she was rising and twisting on the edge of orgasm. “Let yourself go, darling,” he whispered encouragingly. “I have plenty more for you.”
He slid in one finger and then two and slowly used them to mimic the way he planned to love her later. The heat in the room climbed and her legs widened. He increased the pace and savored how wet she was and the sight of her nudity framed by the opened corset, as she rose and fell to the decadent rhythm. He captured her lips. “Come for me, Duchess. I know you’re ready.”
And a breath later she did, bucking wildly and calling his name.
Kent smiled the smile of a pleased male and eased his fingers free. He was on the verge of orgasm, too, but she was his and he was greedy, so he teased the stiff little bud at the apex of her thighs and dropped his head.
When his tongue found her she cried out. “What—”
“I just want a small taste, darlin.’”
He raised his head and, seeing the wonder in her eyes, he chuckled. “No?”
She fell back as if outdone and he laughed. “Oh, baby, we’re going to have so much fun, you and I.”
And Portia had to admit, it was fun until he slid himself inside and the size of him stretched her so painfully.
“Just relax, love. I won’t move until you’ve caught your breath.”
Regan was right. It did hurt and she was left bereft because she wanted to enjoy this part of the marriage bed, but she wouldn’t if it hurt this way. He was holding himself above her and there was genuine concern on his face.
“It’ll only hurt this one time. Promise. You ready?”
Biting her lip, she nodded and tensed when he began to move again. After a few minutes her body accepted him, the pain lessened, and she began answering his slow strokes. The flame caught again, this time more intensely. Feeling the familiar storm begin to gather, she smiled up. “Oh, Kent.”
“Liking it now?”
She wanted to reply but her body was responding so feverishly no words were needed. Caught up in the whirlwind as he increased his pace, she hooked her heels over his thrusting hips, ran her hands up and down his strong arms, and knew she’d died and gone to heaven.
“Welcome to the marriage bed, Mrs. Randolph.”
His thrusts were harder, stronger, and he reached down and raised her hips without missing a beat. He threw back his head, “God, you’re so tight. I could do you all night, woman.”
And then, as his orgasm broke, he roared and stroked harder, rougher, and she didn’t care because she was coming again, too, this time with a scream, and she didn’t care if they heard her in Tucson.
In the silent aftermath, he kissed her and she ran her fingers up the sweat on his back and down his spine. He was heavy but she didn’t mind. He finally broke the seal of their bodies and rolled off and lay beside her breathing harshly. “I don’t think I’m ever letting you out of this room.”
She chuckled softly.
He studied her and she did the same to him. He asked, “Are you okay? I probably should’ve been gentler.”
“I’m fine and so were you. When can we do it again?”
He laughed, dragged her atop and they did again, and again. When the sun came up, they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.
For the next three days, they made love, many times, ate food delivered to the door by the hotel staff, and talked about everything from the silly to the serious.
One evening while outside watching the sunset, she said, “Who would have ever thought we’d end up married to each other?”
“I know. When I first met you, you were a skinny little thing with big eyes who didn’t smile.”
“That’s because I was so terrified of you and Rhine and Jim. All men really.”
“I know.”
“You did?”
“Yes. When any of us came into a room you’d leave or stand with a piece of furniture between you and whichever man it was.”
“I thought I was prey.”
“Rhine and Eddy talked with us about you and Regan.”
Portia thought back. “I remember the day we arrived in Virginia City. It was right after Aunt Eddy was shot. When she recovered, Regan and I asked her a hundred questions. We didn’t know what marriage was and I remember to this day how appalled she looked when I asked if we were going to have to have relations with Uncle Rhine. She said no of course, but it took me a long time to actually believe her. My mother’s customers were mostly brutes, so I thought all men were that way.”
“We’re not.”
“I know,” she whispered. “When my mother sent us away, my insides felt like pieces of a broken glass and I didn’t know how I was supposed to go back together.” The memory tore open the bandage she always wore over that hurt and tears sprang to her eyes. She dashed them away. “You’d think I’d be over that by now.”
“I don’t know if you ever get over something like that.”
“You’re good for me, cowboy. I’m glad you love me.”
He hugged her tight and whispered, “Always.”