His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman. Judy Christenberry

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       CHAPTER NINE

      THE wedding day dawned clear, with a light blue sky sparsely dotted with fluffy white clouds. Alex woke at six. She’d retired early the night before but, instead of taking advantage, she knew she had to get up and help Johanna get things ready before she dressed in her gown.

      Quietly she slipped from her room and down the hall to the bathroom. She wanted to avoid Connor at all costs this morning. It had nothing to do with it being bad luck to see the bride, but more about keeping a level head. It would be all too easy to let the romance of the day sweep her away. What she needed to do was make sure everything was in readiness for the guests. Make it seem real. She ran hot water and washed her face and brushed her teeth before tiptoeing back to her room to get dressed.

      Connor heard her shuffling about. He’d been awake since four, but had stayed beneath the sheets, thinking. It had nothing to do with habit and everything to do with getting married today. Getting married to Alex.

      He remembered the promises she’d made him. She tried hard, he could see that. She wanted to make things right for him, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. What made him so special? He was nothing more than a rancher trying to keep afloat.

      Her eyes had held a suspicious sheen last night, and he’d thought for a moment or two that she was going to cry. But not Alex. He saw now she was strong, practical. The kind of woman who would face whatever needed facing without histrionics and tissues. The more he knew her, the more he respected her. And the more he found himself daydreaming about her prairie sky-blue eyes and the dark waterfall of her hair.

      He swung out of bed, hurriedly pulling on a pair of faded jeans. There was something he needed to take care of—something that had kept him awake in the pale, sun-washed hours of dawn.

      He heard her footsteps echo softly to the bathroom down the hall, and he slipped into her room to wait.

      When she came back, his heart stopped at the sight she made. She halted her footsteps in surprise, seeing him sitting on the rumpled coverlet of the bed. In no more than a second he saw her tousled hair falling over her shoulders, the pristine white pajama set, which accented the fullness of her breasts and the growing bump at her midsection, and which ended mid-thigh, revealing shapely legs and pretty, dainty feet. The sight of her, fresh from her still-warm bed, made his heart stop.

      “G…Good morning,” she stuttered in surprise.

      At her appearance, he rose, wiping his palms against the thighs of his jeans nervously. “I heard you get up. I hope that’s OK?”

      “Why wouldn’t it be?”

      “You’re the one standing in the doorway like you’re afraid to come in any further.”

      She was afraid. Thoughts of Connor had dominated her dreams, and he had been the first thing she’d thought of upon waking. For him to be here, now, in the quiet morning hours, seemed so…intimate.

      She abruptly realized that she was standing in white maternity pajamas which fell a bit shy of modest. Heat flooded her cheeks and down her neck.

      He was waiting, and she went the rest of the way in. He took a few steps so that they were scant inches apart.

      “What are you doing here?” she whispered, keeping her voice low.

      He stepped even closer, so close she had to tilt her neck to look into his face, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin cotton she wore.

      “Today is the big day,” he whispered huskily.

      Her head dropped so he couldn’t see how flustered she became at the thought. “Everything is ready.”

      His hand found hers, and he squeezed her fingers. “Except for one thing.”

      Her eyes darted to his in confusion. This was feeling distinctly like romance, and after having him haunt her dreams she had little defence against him. As she gazed into his face his eyes darkened with something she didn’t understand. But when he held her hand that way, and looked deeply into her eyes, her brain simply turned off and she started to babble.

      “I can’t see how anything is missing. We’ve seen to the cake, the flowers, the minister—”

      “Alex.”

      She stopped talking and only stared, letting intimacy surround them in the silence. A jolt flashed through her entire body every time he said her name in that way, and in admitting it called herself ten times the fool. This wasn’t part of the plan at all. She was far more comfortable dealing with Connor when he was being practical and realistic. The memory of saying their promises to each other last night echoed through her brain. It had been a turning point, she realized. For both of them. They’d spoken from their hearts—and she couldn’t speak for Connor, but voicing her intentions had made one thing crystal clear to Alex. She loved him. But this was a marriage of convenience only, and her girlish fancies were only serving as a terrible distraction. She had to remember why they were doing this. She had to remember that they needed to stay only friends if she were to come out of this with her heart intact.

      “I’m a bit nervous, that’s all.” Her eyes fell on the closet, where even now her wedding dress hung, white perfection. She felt unworthy of it. Unworthy of him. It was meant to be a symbol of purity, but there was nothing pure about Alexis Grayson. Impoverished, uneducated, pregnant Alex.

      In a few short hours she’d be wearing it, carrying a bouquet of roses and gardenia. It seemed like a wild, crazy dream.

      “Me too.”

      His admission, instead of relaxing her, made her fingers curl with tension. Good God, one of them being jittery was bad enough. She’d been counting on him to keep a level head through all of this. She reminded herself yet again why she was doing it. Security was something she’d always craved, and now she knew she was going to be responsible for another life. She owed it to her child. This was all he’d asked of her. It wasn’t much; it was too much.

      Her hand drifted to her stomach and rested against the small mound there. His eyes softened as he placed his own hand, strong and warm, on top of hers.

      “He’s growing.”

      She swallowed and somehow managed to get out, “Every day.”

      She closed her eyes at the warmth of his hand seeping through her pajamas and into her core. In the time she’d been here he’d never touched her in such a way, or expressed an intimate interest in the life growing within her. The bubble of her belly was firm and taut, and when she opened her eyes his were shining down at her. He understood, she realized. In that moment, with his hand warm on the life she carried, for the first time she wished in her heart that this baby was his. He would be a wonderful father.

      He cleared his throat as he removed his hand. “Are you wondering why I’m here?”

      Without his touch her skin cooled, leaving her empty. She couldn’t get used to that feeling, then. She’d miss it far too much СКАЧАТЬ