enchanted him.
Dawn light shone through the window onto the landing, igniting the flame color of her hair and reflecting fairylike sparkles in the crystals bordering her lace collar. Her eyes glittered bright green, but not by any trick of early sunlight.
How had this dazzling creature been his neighbor for so many years without him noticing how lovely she was?
Because she had not always been dazzling. Before Ivy came home, Agatha had been a wraith hiding in shadows and seldom seen in public.
With one hand on the bannister, she descended to the foot of the stairs. When she placed her pale, slender fingers in his hand, he was struck by the enormity of what he was about to do.
In moments this fragile woman would become his—to protect for the rest of his life.
There was something about Agatha Magee that hit him deep in his heart. Ever since the night of the barbecue at the Lucky Clover, he’d felt touched by her.
There had been a storm that night, and seeing her sitting in a corner of the parlor watching the dancers whirl by, he’d been moved in an unexpected way. Not with pity, exactly, but something akin to it. Compassion for her plight, maybe?
Yes, she was the sister of the woman he had hoped to marry, but his attention toward her had not been only for Ivy’s sake.
He’d been overcome with a strong urge to make her smile, to whirl her about the dance floor until she did.
Of course, she could not whirl about the dance floor. He’d had to support her, lead her with slow precision. He could not help but wonder what would she have been like that night had she not spent years as the captive of her nurse?
He liked Ivy, but had Agatha been the healthy one—?
It didn’t matter, because at that time, she hadn’t been.
Before Agatha’s father died, when he had approached William about a marriage deal—his wealth to save the Lucky Clover in exchange for the social prestige the ranch would give him—he had been assured that Agatha was too weak to ever suit his needs. Bearing a child would kill her, so the doctor had said.
So it had been arranged that he would marry Ivy—just as soon as she could be located.
Now here he was, marrying Agatha after all.
It was true that he needed this marriage to safeguard his reputation for his political future, but that was not the whole of it. He wanted to protect Agatha’s reputation as well.
Looking at her now, she did not quite seem the forlorn girl he remembered. For one thing, it was apparent that she was not a girl, but a woman.
A strong-minded woman, but one who was still far too thin, too frail.
Something about her made him want to stand in front of her, arms spread to deflect every stressful thing life might place in her path.
As her husband, he could. Although, apparently with great discretion.
Clearly, his hovering presence would be no more welcome than Hilda Brunne’s had been.
With the four of them gathered in front of the grand fireplace in the parlor, the preacher went through the vows. They were the typical, sacred ones that brides and grooms recited.
Amazingly, Agatha held his gaze through them all. She did not shy away, look frightened or even resentful, as she might have.
Preacher Wilson asked if he would love, honor and cherish her. Yes, he would. Perhaps in some small way he already did cherish her. In a short moment she would share his name—become his family.
Next, the preacher asked Agatha if she would love, honor and obey him.
She blinked, frowned then slid her attention to Mr. Wilson.
“I imagine I might come to love him—in time, sir. Perhaps honor him as well. But obey? In truth I cannot vow to do that, as Mr. English well knows.”
“Oh! Well said, my dear,” Mrs. Wilson gasped. “It’s as though you have been married for ten years already.”
“Mr. English, shall I proceed or do you wish to—”
“Agatha, honey, I vow to you that I will do my best not to interfere with your free will—as best I can. You may continue, Mr. Wilson, if my bride is willing.”
Seconds ticked by. Agatha cocked her head, studying William this way and that.
“Yes,” she said when he was good and sure his heart had quit beating. “And I do promise to obey you—as best I can. Please do carry on, Mr. Wilson. I wish to—”
Agatha took a long slow breath, held William’s gaze. What was it she wished? He only hoped it was something he could give her.
“I wish to kiss my groom.”
* * *
There! She’d spoken what was on her mind! It hadn’t been easy. The girl she had been all her life wanted to run upstairs and hide under a blanket.
But the woman she hoped to become wanted to kiss her husband—to feel his arms curl around her, lift her off her toes and make her feel—wanted.
Now, there it was. Spoken for all to know. She wanted William to want her.
Apparently the preacher did not know what to make of the unconventional vows. He blinked at her, his mouth half-open on a stalled comment.
“Hurry up, Herbert. Let the youngsters have their first kiss.”
“Oh, my—well—by the power invested in me by God and the territory of Wyoming, I now pronounce that you are man and wife. Please do kiss your bride, Mr. English.”
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it was not the briefest graze of his lips across hers. Why, she barely felt the warmth of them.
In her many dreams, kissing William had always felt warm and exciting, holding the promise of the commitment of a lifetime.
While she was suddenly committed for a lifetime, the warm excitement was lacking.
By six thirty, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had departed, leaving Agatha alone with her groom.
She didn’t know what to do—barely knew what to say. This time yesterday she had been wiping sleep from her eyes while helping Laura Lee make fried potatoes and eggs. Less than twelve hours ago she had been living the adventure of a book character.
“You must be hungry,” she said, taking note of how her wedding gown swirled about her when she turned. How it caught the first rays of dawn streaming through the window.
She had never worn anything more lovely in her life.
Unable to help herself she twirled again just to watch it shimmer. If Mother Brunne was watching from the great beyond, it would be with much disapproval.
“I’ll fix us something to eat after I change out of the gown.”
“I’m
