August (Prairie Grooms, #1) (17 page)

Thackeray paced faster. “There must be a way to win. I have to win. But that foul Duncan Cooke is in London and I’m here ...” he stopped. “Yes, here with his brothers, and now his cousins.
My
cousins.” He rubbed his whiskered chin and licked his lips. “It would serve the Duke right to lose it all,” he said and nodded to himself. “Lose as much as he took from me ... what should have been mine ...” He turned, stepped to a corner of the livery stable and peeked around it. “And I think I’ll start with our dear cousin Penelope ...”

* * *

P
enelope walked to the hotel, turned and started back. August stepped out of nowhere and she walked right into him. “Oh!”

He laughed. “You really should watch where you’re going, Miss Red.”

She glared up at him. “Very funny. You did that on purpose.”

He smiled. “If only I’d thought of it,” he said with a wink. “And I’d do it again if it meant stealing another kiss from you.”

“Mr. Bennett ...”

“I think we’re way past all that ‘Mr. Bennett’ nonsense, don’t you? Please, call me August. After all, we are to be married tomorrow – if not sooner.”

“Sooner?” she gasped.

“Your dress is done, correct?”

She swallowed and backed up a step. “I suppose so ...”

“You suppose so? What’s the matter, Miss Red? Don’t you want to marry me?”

She stared at him. Marriage. It was so
final
. There would be no going back to England, no return to the life she once knew. But ... the man before her had shown her he was sensitive to her plight, and had done his best to give her a small piece of what she’d left behind. She glanced behind her at the hotel doors, and smiled at the memory of their tea ... among other things. “I do want to marry you, Mr. Benn ... August. I’m simply nervous, is all.”

“I assure you, there is nothing to be nervous about, Miss Red. It’s going to be you and me against the world.”

“That sounds awfully ... big.”

“Oh, the world isn’t so big, at least not from here in Clear Creek. Probably because no one leaves.”

She laughed at that and looked into his eyes. “You’ve been other places before coming to Clear Creek, haven’t you? You mentioned New York state.”

He held his arm out to her and she took it. He led her down the boardwalk, away from the hotel. “That’s right. I was born and raised in Buffalo, which is a city of some size – about eighty thousand people.”

“That large? I had no idea.” And she hadn’t. It wasn’t London by a long shot, but eighty thousand was about the size of Norwich or Brighton, substantial British cities.

“Then I went to Texas, and then Mexico, during the war. Never fired a shot, incidentally – I was in the quartermaster corps, keeping the fighting troops supplied. I returned to Buffalo briefly to finish school, then headed west to Missouri, California, and finally what was then the Oregon Territory. Now that Oregon is a real state, that means something, you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, really. But I think I understand some of the significance of what you’re saying.”

He smiled as he stopped and turned to look at her. “This territory becoming a state makes us feel like we’re part of something bigger, much bigger. We’ve got people in Washington City now, speaking on our behalf. Later this year we’ll get to choose our next president. These are exciting times, even for a tiny speck of a town like Clear Creek. One day, a lot of people will settle out here – you’ll see.”

She looked around at the small buildings on either side of the street, dominated by the mercantile on one end, the hotel on the other. It was hard to visualize it being anything else. “But what if no one comes?”

“Well, Miss Red, I’ll tell you. I’ve built myself a farmhouse, and a barn. I’ve got livestock, a few chickens ... one truly cantankerous rooster.” He put his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them. “You’re the only thing missing to make my life complete. With all of that, I could live and die here a happy man. I don’t need anything else.”

She shivered at his touch. The heat from his hands was warm enough to feel through the cotton fabric of her dress, and part of her melted at the thought of him wrapping his arms around her and taking another kiss.

“I’ve made my mind up to marry you, Miss Red. But I want you to make sure you want to marry me. I know life out here is about as different from England as you can get, but I’d be mighty happy to call you my wife.”

His words were simple, yet they brought tears to her eyes. He was dead serious. He
wanted
to marry her – not because she was a mail-order bride, but because he genuinely liked her. She could tell by the way he flirted, how he looked her in the eye, how he tenderly touched her now and then when he thought no one else was looking. He’d done it in the mercantile, in the hotel when they were having tea, and at various other times, like he was doing now. She reached up and took his hands from her upper arms, and looked into his eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, August ... I’ll marry you, and happily.”

His face broke into a wide smile and he swallowed hard. For a brief moment she thought he might shed a tear. But instead he put his arms around her waist, just as she’d hoped, bent his face to hers, and locked gazes with her. “Yes.”

“Yes ... what?” she whispered.

“Yes, I’ll marry you too.” He lowered his face another few inches, and smiled. “I’m about to kiss you in public. You don’t mind, do you? After all, this isn’t England – it’s all right here.”

She wanted to speak, but all that came out was an inviting sigh.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and did.

Her moan deepened with the kiss, and she was vaguely aware of several sets of footsteps coming their way. By the time August lifted his lips from hers and she opened her eyes (she hadn’t even realized she’d closed them!) Preacher Jo and his wife Annie were standing next to them.

The preacher’s grin split his face wide. “Son, I think maybe you and Miss Sayer here ought to come down to the church tonight and get yourselves married,” he said with a smile.

“T-tonight?” Penelope managed, her knees weak.

“Maybe you oughta come now,” suggested Annie with a giggle.

“I have no objections,” August said.

“But ... but ...” Penelope stammered, “... I’ll need my dress ...”

“Let’s go fetch it,” said Annie. “I think it’s a fine night for a wedding, don’t you?”

Penelope looked at August, who stood staring at her, his face locked in serious intent. He was ready to marry her, and was giving her one last chance to change her mind. But in that moment, she realized she’d didn’t want to back out. This man had spent the last couple of years making a home for his bride. She knew of no one in her circle of friends and acquaintances back in England that would do all the work August had just to get married. To prepare a place for his future bride with such care astounded her, and when she thought on it, she realized what a lucky lady she was to have found such a man. Or in this case, been sent to one.

Without saying a word, she nodded.

Preacher Jo smiled. “Well – let’s go have us a wedding!”

* * *

T
he sun was beginning to set when the church bell rang. Penelope thought she might faint as August lifted the small veil from her face. Her mind raced over the afternoon leading up to this moment. They’d gone back to the mercantile where Preacher Jo and Annie had announced to everyone that the wedding was being moved up. She thought it odd the Cooke women made no protest – they’d simply gathered up the dress, Penelope and her sisters, and whisked them back to the Triple-C, where they proceeded to bathe, poke, prod, and do all manner of beauty-related things in order to get her ready for her big event.

Now here she was, standing next to an equally well-groomed August, who looked (dare she use the word)
delicious
in his black jacket and matching string tie. Her knees went wobbly the moment she saw him, and she prayed they didn’t buckle during the ceremony. Thankfully they hadn’t, and now it was almost over ...

“You may kiss the bride,” she heard Preacher Jo say. She stared at August, his dark blue eyes locked on hers, and quirked an eyebrow as if to say,
well?
He needed no further prompting, putting a hand behind her head, bending her back and kissing her soundly.

A whoop went up throughout the small church, and she heard Constance yell out something that sounded like
yee-haw
. By the time August broke the kiss, she was out of breath, and barely had her bearings when he took her by the hand and began to lead her down the aisle to his wagon outside. There was no wedding supper, no party afterward – there hadn’t been time to plan one for that night. Besides, August Bennett wanted to get his new wife home to his farm, and that was that. There would be time enough for a celebration at the hotel the next day, at the time originally scheduled for the reception. Right now, they would celebrate in their own way, just the two of them.

Penelope could only imagine what that meant ... no. Actually, she couldn’t – at least not in any detail.

“I can’t believe it!” Eloise cried. “Penelope is leaving us!”

“You’ll be doing the same thing once you’re married,” Constance stated matter-of-factly. “I don’t know why you carry on so.”

“It won’t be the same without her.”

“She’s not moving across the country, just a mile out of town,” Constance reminded her. “Besides, I’m positive we’ll be able to see her whenever we want.”

“Are you sure?” Eloise asked.

Constance watched as August helped Penelope into the wagon, then climbed up himself. “Well, they’ll want some privacy for a few days. Except for the party tomorrow.” She scrunched up her face in thought. “Eloise, are we to have a party once we’re married?”

“I’m not sure. Sadie told me they often throw parties when someone weds, but usually it’s right after the wedding.”

“We should have a party for all three of us!” Constance suggested. “Then we only have to do the work once! What do you think?”

“I ... think it’s too late for that,” Eloise replied, watching Penelope and August already driving off into the sunset.

“Oh, bother,” Constance sighed. “Well ... we’ll see her tomorrow, then.”

“What will they possibly be doing until then?”

Constance looked at Eloise. “Not sure. I suspect we’ll be finding out soon enough when we’re married.” She sighed again. “Well, nothing for it then – we’d best go back inside. The others will be heading back to the ranch soon.”

She looked over her shoulder as the wagon disappeared around a tree. Penelope and August’s wedding had to be the fastest, smallest wedding she’d ever seen, and she’d been to a few in her twenty-two years. Yet theirs had had more feeling and more heartfelt vows than any she’d attended before, and those couples had often known each other for years before they were wed. Penelope and August had only known each other a few days.

Constance smiled. She hoped she and Ryder Jones would have an equally heartfelt union when it came their turn to say their vows. Then they too could ride off into the sunset to home.

* * *

A
ugust pulled the team to a stop in front of the farmhouse. They had hardly spoken a word to each other on the drive out. Confused by his silence, Penelope cringed when he offered to help her down. Was
he
having second thoughts? Did
he
regret his decision to go ahead and marry her? They’d only known each other a few days, after all. But she’d made her mind up to go through with it – what would cause him to balk at the union now?

She watched as he went to the back of the wagon for her few belongings. Belle had brought them to the church and put them in the wagon bed for her. He pulled out the small satchel then scanned for more. “This is it? This is all you have?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“It isn’t much.” He glanced at the house. “I was worried I might fall short of your expectations, like I was cheating you ...”

She smiled at that. Granted, what he was offering didn’t really measure up to what she’d been accustomed to. She and her sisters had grown up in a comfortable home in Sussex much larger than the small farmhouse before her. But given the position of the family – complete with curse – she was counting her blessings. “Your house is like a mansion,” she said.

“
Our
house,” he corrected. He walked around the wagon and held out his arm. “Shall we, Mrs. Bennett?”

“Not Mrs. Red?” she replied puckishly.

He grinned. “Whichever you prefer, m’lady.”

She smiled and took his arm, no longer worried. If he really hadn’t wanted to marry her, he wouldn’t have. Her new husband was a man of his word, and when he said he was going to do something, he did it.

He removed her arm from his, opened the door, and in one swift move, scooped her up. “Oh!” she cried at the unexpected movement. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my bride across the threshold, of course. Don’t they do that where you come from?”

“Yes, of course, but I didn’t know you also did it here.”

He carried her inside. “Now you know,” he laughed as he set her on her feet. He dropped her satchel to the floor, and looked into her eyes. “Welcome home, Mrs. Bennett.”

She smiled and fought back tears.
Home ...

He gazed at her, tucked a finger under her chin, and descended upon her. The kiss was warm, inviting, and she shivered as his other arm wrapped around her and pull her against him. She knew what was coming – Sadie and Belle had explained everything to her – but it didn’t mean she wasn’t still nervous ...

When he finally broke the kiss, he smiled. “Shall we go upstairs, Mrs. Bennett?”

“I have a first name, you know.”

“I like calling you Mrs. Bennett.”

She swallowed as he brought his face to hers once more. “And what shall I call you?”

“You’ve already been addressing me as Mr. Bennett. Like I told you before, call me August.”

“August ...” she said, fighting the urge to call him ‘Mr. Bennett’ anyway. “I ... I am not so sure I am ready to go upstairs.”