The True Love Wedding Dress (40 page)

“Of me?”

She gave a startled laugh and then found herself blinking away tears. “No, never that. I’m just—oh, I don’t know.” She glanced at the window. “It’s probably stupid, but ever since you asked me to marry you, I’ve had this feeling that my father will appear at any moment.”

He stepped across the room and drew her into his arms. “All the more reason to get this done. Once you’re my wife, you can stop being afraid. If he comes around, I’ll draw him a map in the dirt to guide him out of here and give him a boot up the ass to help him on his way.”

Faith wanted to believe that. She needed to believe it. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark and sinister awaited them just around the corner.

 

It was to be a simple ceremony before a justice of the peace. And by all rights, it should have been the plainest, simplest wedding on record. The JP performed all nuptial ceremonies in his sitting room, the walls of which were papered in a pattern of ancient roses, long since turned brown from the smoke of his cigars. His wife was a stout, unadorned woman who nodded and seldom spoke. Faith had barely recovered from the shock of finding goats on the people’s doorstep when she and Patrick were saying “I do.”

Nevertheless, she felt thoroughly and wonderfully married afterward. Caitlin and Ace were there to witness their vows, along with all of Ace’s brothers. Charity preceded Faith into the sitting room, sprinkling rose blossoms from Caitlin’s flower garden on the worn carpet. All in all, it was, in Faith’s opinion, the most beautiful wedding ever.

After the brief ceremony, Faith nearly swooned when Patrick kissed her. It was not only their first kiss but also a startling revelation. She actually
liked
it. He encircled her waist with one strong arm, drew her snugly against him, and tasted her mouth as if she were a succulent piece of fruit.

“My turn,” Joseph Paxton said with a laugh. The next thing Faith knew, she was draped over his muscular arm, expecting to feel his mouth on hers at any moment. Instead, he winked at Patrick and bussed her cheek.

After that, Faith received more kisses on the cheek, the first delivered by Ace, the second by Caitlin, followed by quick kisses from the rest of the Paxton men. Esa was a quiet, gentle-mannered man with a kindly smile. David had a tough, wiry look about him, and he wore a silver star on his shirt, leading Faith to believe he must be a lawman.

With congratulations ringing in her ears, Faith signed the necessary papers to record her marriage to Patrick O’Shannessy. When those particulars had been completed, Patrick led her and Charity to the courthouse, where he filed more papers to adopt Faith’s daughter. Then Caitlin arrived to collect the child.

“Your daughter and her puppy will be spending the night at our place,” she cheerfully informed Faith. “It’s your wedding night, after all.” Ruffling Charity’s hair, Caitlin winked at Patrick and smiled. “Charity has kindly offered to help me make cookies tonight.”

Faith had never been apart from her daughter overnight. As though attached to the child by an invisible string, she followed Caitlin and Charity from the courthouse. Never leaving her side, Patrick gave her elbow a reassuring squeeze as Ace swung Charity up into his wagon.

“They’ll take good care of her, honey. No need to worry.”

Faith was about to agree when she spotted a well-dressed gentleman entering the hotel farther up the street. Her heart gave a nasty lurch.

“What is it?” Patrick asked.

Faith blinked and shook her head. The man had already entered the building. “Nothing. It’s just—” She shook her head again and reached blindly for her husband’s hand. “Nothing. I just thought for a moment that I saw my father.”

Patrick curled an arm around her. “And so what if you did? I told you once how that will go. Do I need to say it again? From this moment forward, the only man you need to worry about is me.”

Faith dragged her gaze from the hotel and forced herself to look up at Patrick’s dark countenance. His deep blue gaze gave her the strength to dredge up a smile. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m just being silly.”

Faith went up on her tiptoes to kiss her daughter good-bye and then surrendered happily to the circle of Patrick’s arm as Ace drove the family wagon away from the boardwalk. When the dust had settled, Patrick bent to kiss her forehead.

“Well, Mrs. O’Shannessy, are you about ready to go home?”

Home.
The word had such a lovely, final ring to it. With a last worried glance at the hotel, Faith relaxed and laughed. “I am, sir. Lead the way. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“You’ll never walk behind me,” he whispered huskily. “Only beside me.”

In truth, Faith didn’t care if she led or trailed behind, only so long as she could spend the rest of her life with him.

 

It had been a hectic day, packed with varying emotions. By the time Patrick reined in the team of horses in front of his house, Faith was thoroughly drained. After he helped her from the wagon, she went inside and stood at the sink in her wedding dress, wondering stupidly what she should fix for supper. The chicken she’d left in the icebox, she guessed.

“We’ll have eggs and bacon,” Patrick said when he came in from the barn a few moments later. “It’s late. We’re both tired. That’ll make less mess to clean up after.”

Faith jerked back to awareness, wondering how long she had been staring blankly at nothing. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He came to wrap her in his strong arms. “Why the worried frown? Are you thinking about your father again?”

Faith wanted to deny it, but when she looked into her husband’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “That man going into the hotel. He truly did look like Papa. I know it’s unlikely, but I can’t shake the feeling that it may have been him.”

Patrick’s embrace tightened. “Given the fact that it’s our wedding day, I sincerely hope not. But if he’s here, we’ll deal with him.”

“He isn’t easily dealt with.”

Patrick’s mouth thinned. “You can’t live the rest of your life terrified that he may show up, Faith. Have some trust in me. You’re my wife now. His hold on you is forever broken. From this moment forward, you have nothing more to fear from him.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his shirt. After drawing in the scent of him, she sighed shakily. “You’re right. No more worrying.” She let her head fall back and smiled. “Eggs and bacon sound lovely.”

“I’ll cook.” He bent to kiss her and set her head to spinning. Then, his voice husky with desire, he gently nipped her lower lip and said, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get into something more comfortable while I’m tossing together some grub?”

Faith felt perfectly comfortable in the wedding dress, but she might dribble food on the bodice if she didn’t change into something else. She went upstairs, rifled through her armoire, and selected Patrick’s favorite, a pale blue dress that had seen better days. After stepping out of the wedding gown, she carefully folded it and laid it at the foot of the bed until she could put it away in the trunk.

When she’d finished dressing, she turned to pick up the wedding gown. It no longer lay on the mattress. Bewildered, she got on her knees to look under the bed. Then she checked inside the trunk, thinking she might have put the gown away without thinking.
Nothing.
It had vanished into thin air.

Patrick found Faith at the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

When she told him that the wedding dress had disappeared, he executed a search as well. Finally, he gave up, shrugged in bewilderment, and scratched his head. “I’ll be damned. Where on earth could it have gotten off to?”

Faith swallowed, hard. “I think it was charmed,” she whispered.

“You think it was what?”

“Charmed.” Afraid he might think she was crazy, Faith told him about the tingle of warmth that she’d felt the first time she touched the dress, and how, afterward, she’d seen his advertisement for the first time, even though she’d walked past the mercantile on countless occasions. “When I dropped the gown along the road, I felt sure that it was ruined. But when I got it out of the trunk earlier today, there wasn’t a dirt stain to be seen. How could that happen? You didn’t clean it, did you?”

“No. I just folded it up and stuffed it in the trunk.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t remember there being any dirt stains on the skirt, though. I just remember thinking how pretty it was.”

“It was ruined, I’m telling you.” Faith gave the room another appraisal, half expecting to see the dress somewhere. “I can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t charmed, Patrick.”

He didn’t laugh, just gazed wonderingly at the trunk. “Maybe it was charmed,” he agreed. “You ended up here, didn’t you? That’s all I care about, that you found your way to me.”

Tears of happiness stung Faith’s eyes. “That’s what truly matters,” she agreed. “That we’re together.”

He sighed, smiled slightly, and said, “Supper’s done. You hungry?”

Faith felt hungry, but not for eggs. “Not really. Are you?”

He moved slowly toward her. “I’m starving.”

Moments later, Faith giggled. “I just fastened all these buttons, Patrick O’Shannessy. Now I can only wonder why I bothered.”

He nibbled at her throat, sending tingles of heat spilling into her belly. “Beautiful gifts must always be unwrapped,” he whispered.

Faith let her head fall back, trusting him as she’d never trusted anyone. “Love me, Patrick,” she whispered.

He slipped the sleeves of her dress down her arms, kissed her deeply, and then granted her request, loving her as every woman yearns all her life to be loved. He began with a deep kiss that made her toes curl. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Her chemise and bloomers soon followed her dress into a puddle on the floor.

“Oh,
yes,
” Faith cried when his wonderful mouth trailed to her breasts. “Oh,
yes
!”

Faith floated on a dizzying rush of sensation, surrendering all that she was to him. When at last he entered her, she felt complete as she never had in her life.

Bracing his muscular arms, he suspended himself over her, not moving, barely breathing. “I love you,” he whispered raggedly. “Ah, Faith, my sweet, I love you so much.”

Before she could respond in kind, he plunged deeply within her and took her with him to paradise.

 

The next morning, Faith felt content in a way that only a well-loved woman can. She and Patrick had made love several times during the night, each time sweeter and more fulfilling than the last, until they’d collapsed with exhaustion in each other’s arms just before dawn. As a result, they had awakened late, and both of them were scrambling to complete their morning chores before the day was half gone. After gathering the eggs, Faith blew her husband a kiss from the back stoop. Then later, just after she finished the milking, he caught her as she exited the stall and led her to the hayloft, where he gave her good reason to wish the day were over so they could make love all night again.

“For a woman who had no taste for this, you’re sure warming to the experience mighty fast,” he said as he fastened her bodice with deft fingers.

Faith giggled and plucked straw from her hair. “I must look a sight.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her again.

Before she knew quite how it happened, she was prone in the hay again, her body quivering with yearnings that only he could slake. And, oh, how wonderfully right that felt. For the first time in her life, she felt really and truly loved, just for herself.

That was such a fabulous feeling.

 

Some time later, Faith was gathering carrots from the kitchen garden for a stew for supper when she heard the sound of horses approaching. She cautiously circled the house, her heart pounding with unreasoning dread. She wasn’t really surprised when she reached the front yard and saw her father sitting astride a galloping horse, flanked by at least a dozen riders, all wearing sidearms.

Faith almost bolted, but then she remembered that she was legally married. Legs trembling, she walked resolutely to the front fence and rested a hand on one of the pickets. The men who rode with her father ran hard, glittering gazes over her as they came to a halt in a long line. When Faith looked at them individually, they stared back unflinchingly. The stench of their bodies drifted to her on the warm summer air—a sickening mix of soured sweat, whiskey, and another smell she felt certain was pure meanness. They were mercenaries, the kind of men who regularly sold their souls for a dollar. Faith had seen men like them before in Brooklyn, only there they’d worn suits and postured as gentlemen.

Saddle leather creaked as the men shifted in their seats. A horse snuffled and pawed the dirt, sending up puffs of dust that quickly vanished in the breeze. Faith tried to speak, couldn’t, and swallowed hard to find her voice.

“Papa,” she finally pushed out by way of greeting. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to fetch you and my granddaughter home. What do you suppose I’m doing here?”

The harsh clip of his voice propelled her back through time to her childhood, when his every command had been her edict and disobedience had earned her an unpleasant punishment. A shiver of icy fear coursed through her body. She dug her nails into the wood. “I shan’t ever return to Brooklyn, Papa. I’ve remarried. You’ve no control over me now.”

Her father leaned forward in the saddle, his face turning almost purple with rage. “You dare to defy me? Collect your daughter. You shall return home. The marriage can be annulled easily enough.”

Faith had no doubt that her father could do it. There was always a way to bend the law if a man was wealthy and determined. “I have the right to make my own choices now, Papa, and I’ve chosen Patrick O’Shannessy as my husband.”

“Don’t argue with me, girl. You’ll come home if I have to drag you.”