Page 63 of Jonathan

“if I am to be a ranchers wife, I want to be more than adequate.”

“Planning on doing the rounds with me?” He asked teasingly.

“I just might.”

Jon laughed, a deep and hearty sound that echoed off the walls of the ranch house. "I'd love to see that," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You'd be the most beautiful rancher's wife this place has ever seen."

Kamilah smiled, resting her head against his chest. "And you, my dear, would be the luckiest rancher in the world."

As the days passed, their bond only grew stronger. Kamilah found herself falling more in love with the simple, rustic life of the ranch. She loved waking up to the sound of roosters crowing and the fresh scent of hay. She adored the small-town charm and the genuine warmth of the people around her.

And now it was her wedding day!

She had argued with him and won. He had thought it silly, some old-fashioned myth about her spending the night before her wedding with him.

She had firmly responded that myth or not, she was going to be spending time with his mother and hers, her friends and Helen and of course, Leesa, Kelly, Monique, and Sherridan who had flown in for the ceremony with their husbands.

“Go and have your stag party and a few call girls or escorts or whatever. No touching and the looks had better be just in admiration for their nubile and frisky bodies., Nothing more than that,” she warned him.

“You’re giving me permission to have strippers?” He had asked, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

“Which gives me reasons to hire some buff and sexy cowboy to give me a lap dance or several.”

“Just try it.”

She had laughed at him and lightened his mood with a kiss that had him tumbling her on the bed.

She had been reluctant to spend the night away from him too, but had figured that the wedding night was going to be all the more special.

Standing back from the mirror in Salome’s and Lauren’s guest bedroom, she studied the fluid length of the champagne wool that clung and molded her curves. Her hands drifted to her flat stomach and a secret smile tugged at her nude-colored lips.

She was going to greet him with the news tonight. While he was busy taking off her dress, she was going to tell him about the addition to the family.

Salome, bless her heart had brought her own personal makeup artist and the woman had done a wonderful job with face and hair. She had teased out the blonde highlights and managed loose curls that glowed with health. Her eyebrows had been waxed and shaped.

Her man had gifted her with stunning diamonds that now nestled at her throat and around her left wrist. In lieu of a veil, she had a silly little hat perched at the front of her head, with a thin wisp of lace over her forehead.

Smoothing a hand down her hips, she was turning to grab her mink cape (Another gift from that wonderful man!) when the doors burst open, and her friends spilled in. Salome was wearing fuchsia, the color glowing against her skin and designed to drive men crazy. Lauren was wearing apple green, the style suiting her perfectly.

Behind them, followed her mother and Leonie. Both women had chosen to go with the classic, stunning skirt suits in lilac and lime green.

“My dear.” Leonie clapped her hands in delight. “You look stunning.”

“A very beautiful bride.” Angela agreed, a suspicious sheen in her mahogany eyes. “Something borrowed and something blue.” She produced a beautiful sapphire brooch from her beaded purse. “A gift from your daddy.” She pinned it on and stepped back to look at the result. “Perfect.”

“Then let’s go and get me married. I am anxious to get to the honeymoon part of the ceremony.”

*****

The Great Hall was decorated lavishly, with flowers on every available surface, giving the room a scented atmosphere and a warm and cozy feel to it. Everyone had been invited to the reception a little later on, but the wedding itself was an intimate one. Family and friends.

The room was scattered with people, caterers, local men and women, moving around passing out delicious hors d’oeuvres, canapes, foie gras, delicate pastries that simply melted in the mouth and champagne – endless supply of it. No expenses had been spared of course. A McCarthy was getting married, so it was a cause for celebration.

Jonathan Ian McCarthy stood with his hands folded, fingers tightly pressed together as he awaited his bride. The conversation milled around him, people walked up to congratulate him, and he made all the appropriate noises as he watched the doorway. His first sight of her took his breath and weakened his knees.

His collar felt restrictive, and he was regretting the damn tux. He felt as if he was on the verge of being strangled.

There was absolutely no way she could be real. The lights from the heavy crystal chandeliers shimmered over her and for a moment, he thought she was an angel descending to bring them good tidings.

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