The Cowboy’s Bride by Donna Alward
10
The minister’s voice intoned clearly. Numb, Alex’s fingers shook in Connor’s, lips quivering as tears trembled on her lashes. To anyone looking on, she looked like the proper, emotional bride, gazing lovingly at her husband-to-be. She felt that way, though she didn’t have a right to. Didn’t have the right to pretend this was real. She was vaguely aware of the small sea of faces looking up at them, at the whisper of the breeze through the thin poplar leaves, of the sound of magpies chattering in the line of trees along the north pasture. She was more aware that Connor was holding her gaze steadily, the way his suit jacket fit over his broad shoulders, how he’d missed the tiniest spot shaving just beneath his left ear.
The next ten minutes passed in a haze, a series of impressions that left Alex feeling more and less than she’d expected. The feel of Connor’s hand holding hers, the sound of the minister’s voice offering a prayer, handing her bouquet off to take his fingers in hers.
She’d expected more clarity, more guilt, more shame. Less emotion, less longing, less love.Then why, oh why, did everything seem so real? So right, preordained, even? Was it only because she wanted it to be something it was not?
Then it was done. Connor took a gold band, studded with a half dozen tiny diamonds and slipped it on to her finger, sealing their covenant of lies.
“You may kiss the bride.”
That line came through her consciousness crystal clear and she lifted startled eyes to Connor’s. They were warm with understanding and the little secret of the kiss they’d already shared in the weak morning sunlight. Sealed with a kiss…
His mouth touched hers, paused, deepened, lingered, until he pulled away just enough that her lips followed ever so briefly. She stared at the fullness of his mouth, smudged with the colour of her lipstick, and her cheeks flamed as clapping erupted.
It was done. In the space of a few minutes and a single kiss, she was Mrs. Connor Madsen. She let him take her hand and guide her down the aisle between the seats towards the shaded side of the house.
* * *
“Are you okay?”
Connor’s voice held more than a trace of concern and Alex pasted on a smile, holding it there until she was sure it would stay on its own.
“Of course I am.”
“You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
There was a very good reason for that. Alex stared down at the sliced beef and potato salad on her plate. Now there was no turning back and because of it, the gravity of what they were doing had sunk in. The marriage certificate was signed. And even if it hadn’t been, she knew she’d made the horrible mistake of giving her heart to a man who didn’t want it.
To stop his worrying, she popped a piece of meat into her mouth and chewed. “There. I promise I’m not going to starve.”
“You’re supposed to be happy.”
Connor leaned closer to her bare shoulder as they sat at one of the white-covered tables. To anyone watching it looked like nothing more than a new husband whispering something intimate to his bride, but to Alex it was a knife to the heart. Her wedding day. It was supposed to be happy, joyous, carefree. Instead it was bittersweet. Filled with wishes instead of dreams come true.
“I am happy,” she lied, still keeping the forced smile in place. “It’s been…a little tiring.”
His hand rested warmly on her shoulder. Didn’t he realize what he was doing to her with every tender glance, every simple touch?
“It won’t be much longer.” Connor nodded toward the band warming up on the deck, above the makeshift dance floor. “We can have a few dances and disappear.”
Her fork clattered to her plate. Disappear? Like brides and grooms did?
“Sure,” she choked out, trying desperately to swallow as she started coughing. She reached for her water glass, staring at the gold band winking on her finger. It didn’t look like the typical thing Connor would buy. If he’d asked her, she would have said a plain, cheap gold band would have sufficed. And she hadn’t bought him one at all, and thought now perhaps she should have. But he’d commented once that he didn’t wear rings because they were too much of a danger around the farm equipment. She hadn’t persisted because in her own mind it would tie him to her in a way that wasn’t real.
The band played a few riffs, the drummer ran a little solo down his set and the singer stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing with a hand, “Mr. and Mrs. Connor Madsen!”
Amid the clapping Connor rose and held out his hand. She took it, let him lead her across the lawn to the plywood floor. There he took her into his arms as their guests smiled on.
Alex knew none of them. She’d been introduced after the ceremony, but she was still a stranger in this community where everyone knew everyone else and had for years. It drove home the fact that she didn’t belong.
“You look beautiful,” Connor murmured in her ear. “In case I haven’t told you already.”
Oh, his words. They had the power to hurt her now when she knew he didn’t actually mean them. Or perhaps he did mean them, just not the way she wanted him to.
Their feet shuffled to the slow beat of the song, while Connor pulled her closer so that the bubble of her belly was pressed firmly against him. His suit coat was gone and the heat of his skin radiated through his white shirt, warming her in the evening cool. He’d loosened his tie, the warm smell of his aftershave mingling with the smell of the wild roses that grew along the edge of the driveway. Her eyes closed as his fingers tightened around hers, and she rested her head against his hard shoulder.
I love you, Connor.She spoke the words in her heart, wishing she could say them aloud. How could she not? He was the first person to care about what happened to her in a long time. He was her rock, and she knew deep down she shouldn’t rely on him too heavily, seeing as she’d be leaving in a few months. Yet she couldn’t help herself. She was tired of being alone. The sigh slipped out before she thought to stop it.
Connor felt the soft breath of her sigh against his neck and swallowed. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed it, but what had started out as a fine, sensible, platonic solution wasn’t sensible or platonic any longer. He let his fingers slip up her back and under the lush, dark curls cascading over her shoulders. Beautiful, and brave, so very brave. She didn’t realize it, he bet, but she had that pregnancy glow that grandmothers talked about. A luminescence, a tranquility about her. Had he really thought he could marry her and then let her go, a strictly business arrangement?
Why couldn’t there be a way to have both? If the time came and she still wanted out, honour said he’d have to let her go.
But what if he could convince her to stay in the meantime?
The song ended and they pulled apart. Going with instinct, Connor refused to relinquish her hand as she started to step away, instead giving it a tug and pulling her back to his arms. She looked stunned and he smiled, his teeth flashing in the twilight. His eyelids drifted closed and he kissed her.
There’d only been that one kiss under the arch during the ceremony, and he determined to make this one good. There was clapping and cheering but Connor blocked it out, urging her to respond, his blood firing recklessly as she finally did, lifting her hand and threading it through his hair as he held her close.
Their mouths parted; Connor gave a last seductive nibble on her lower lip. Her cheeks flamed as red as prairie fire.
“Whoo-eee!” The lead singer made a point of whooping it up. “We’d better have another dance, dontcha think?”
They started another country ballad and other couples joined them on the floor as Connor laughed, his heart lightening a bit. She wasn’t immune. That kiss wasn’t faked. Their bodies slid together again, more relaxed.
“Do you like your ring?” he asked in her ear.
Alex looked up at him. “It’s beautiful. But I didn’t think you were going to buy something this fancy. You didn’t need to spend the money…”
On something that was temporary.He heard the end of the sentence as clearly as if she’d spoken it aloud, but he chose to ignore it. “All it cost was a small cleaning bill,” he explained, looking down into her eyes. Tiny rhinestones winked within her hair, he marvelled. “This ring belonged to my great-grandmother.”
She paled, visibly. “You gave me a family heirloom? Are you crazy?”
He saw her eyes dart to Johanna, who was laughing and chatting with Millie and Reverend and Mrs. Wallace.
“I did. My mother wore it, and as my wife, you should, too.”
“But…but…” She swallowed, then looked him square in the eye. “We both know I’m not really your wife.”
“We could ask the minister. I’m pretty sure the certificate is legal.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t worry so much.”
“Well if that isn’t pot calling kettle,” she retorted, leaning back to accuse him with her eyes. “It just doesn’t seem right, you know?”
“I wanted you to have it. Right now let’s enjoy dancing. I haven’t danced with you before, and this should be a night of firsts.”
He let his body do the talking then, holding her close and swaying her gently to the music. He looked up; couples glided by them, smiling foolishly at the newlyweds.
The song ended, more beers were popped open at the coolers, and the band started a toe-tapping two-step.
“Come on,” he called, tugging her arm, but she resisted.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Everyone and their dog knew how to two-step by the time they hit grade school, didn’t they? He tugged her hand again.
“Seriously.” Her smile dropped. “I don’t know how. And I don’t want to embarrass myself.” Couples circled the dance floor, turning and stepping and her eyes widened. “I’ll trip everyone up.”
He relented, pulling her to the soft grass to the side. “Then you’ll have to learn,” he answered. “Like this.”
He held her in his arms. “You step backward. One, one-two-three, one, one-two-three, so that you keep going in a circle.”
She tried it, did it twice, fumbled on the third. “I feel like an idiot.”
“You look like an angel,” he fired back, putting his hand back on her waist. “One, one-two-three.” This time she managed several steps.
“Ok. Now in time.”
“You mean that wasn’t?”
He laughed, full-throated, eyes twinkling. “Honey, that was half time. We gotta double it up.”
And they were off. “Don’t look at your feet,” he advised. “Relax.” They circled around on the grass, her smile growing with each successful step.
“Ok. Now we’re going to try a turn.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Oops, here we go,” he answered, leading her smoothly through the turn. She returned to face him, back in step.
“I did it!”
In her excitement she forgot to one-two-three, her feet stuttering, halting them again. “Darn it.”
“S’okay. Here we go again. And this time we’ll turn you the other way.”
He waited until she was going smoothly, danced her over to the floor, and lifted her up. He nodded to the band to keep going, they joined the circle, and two-stepped with the rest.
When it was over, she was breathless and laughing. “That was fun! And I didn’t even mess up too much!”
“You hungry now? You didn’t eat much at dinner.” He placed his hand at her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the smooth fabric.
“I’m okay. Maybe some water.”
They left the group waltzing away and headed to the refreshment table. The first stars were coming out and the air was cooling. Citronella torches lit the perimeter of the celebration area, keeping the mosquitoes at bay and casting a warm flickering glow over the gathering.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she apologized, her hands turning her plastic tumbler around and around.
“I think I understand. It wasn’t exactly what it appeared to be, was it?”
“No.”
He frowned, unsure of how to proceed. It was too soon. If he did anything silly or sentimental, she’d chalk it up to the mood of the day. And she’d be partially right, he admitted to himself. Weddings did bring out the romance in people. But what he had planned was more long-term…a wooing, he supposed, to use an old-fashioned term, and one he’d derided his grandmother for using only weeks ago.
He only had a few months to accomplish it, and he knew he had to make the most of every opportunity, wedding day or not.
“How’s junior holding up? Are you tired?”
“A little. But everyone’s still here…”
“We can make our excuses. It’s almost, well, expected.”
Again, the awkward silence.
“Alex, dear.” Johanna slid up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. “I must be going. Millie’s offered to drive me since, well…” She held up her glass and ice cubes tinkled. “I’m staying there tonight. Wouldn’t be right, me staying here.”
Alex averted her eyes, embarrassed. It’s not like this was going to be a typical wedding night of champagne and passion now was it? Her body heated with the very thought.
Johanna continued, unfazed. “You made a picture,” she said, beaming. “And you too, Connor.”
“You know, Grandmother, it used to be ‘Connor dear’ and then ‘Alex’.” He grinned widely. “But then, look at her,” he went on, dropping his eyes to his wife’s profile. “Today, she should come first.”
Alex snorted, making light of his gallantry, yet unable to hide the telltale blush that bloomed on her cheeks.
“Get used to it, dear boy.” Johanna winked at Alex outrageously. “But you should probably throw the bouquet soon, don’t you think?”
Alex nodded, not sure whether to be relieved the day was drawing to a close or to resent the fact that she was being told what to do again. For the most part she hadn’t minded someone else taking the lead, relieving her of some of the responsibilities and decisions, but she’d been on her own long enough that at times it chafed.
Johanna left to notify the band and Connor retrieved her bouquet from the table. “This is your last official duty of today,” he commented. “Then we can disappear if you want.”
The band leader called for all the single ladies, then held out his hand to help Alex up the stairs to the deck. She let the roses fly, straight into the hands of a pretty young blonde with roses in her cheeks.
Duties done, he danced one more dance with his wife, then shepherded her to the front door, lifted her in his arms, and carried her over the threshold.