Page 67 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
He lowered his mouth to hers to find that she was ready for him. As her lips came against his, there was a fervor in her kiss and in the way she held him that told him she’d been afraid she’d lost him too and that she couldn’t bear to live without him.
With each stroke of his mouth against hers, he tried to convey that he loved her and couldn’t live without her either. She was his. She was his future. She was his everything.
Maverick’s chuckling penetrated Franz’s consciousness, and he pulled back, knowing he needed to use restraint or he’d utterly embarrass them both with his passion.
Yet, even though he was no longer kissing her, he couldn’t make himself release her. He held her tightly, and she clung to him, her face buried against his chest.
Maverick had gotten down from his mount and was untying Clarabelle’s bag from the back of her mare. “Reckon the two of you oughta head straight to a church once you reach Denver. Make your marriage official as soon as possible.”
“I like that plan.” Franz pressed a kiss to Clarabelle’s temple. “What do you think, mein Liebchen? Are you willing to wed me?”
“Oh yes. I’m willing.” Her voice was breathless. “Are you?”
“I’ve been ready to wed you since the day I first met you.”
She gazed up at him with her bright green eyes—eyes he could look into forever. And her smile told him she wanted nothing more than to be with him forever too. It was all he could ask for and more.
“Then let’s go,” he whispered, his voice husky with all the emotion he felt for her.
She nodded. “But first?”
“What?”
“This.” She rose on her toes and kissed him again—a kiss that made it very clear that she was indeed willing.
25
As Franz closed their hotel room door, Clarabelle shivered with anticipation—and with amazement at the sheer splendor and luxury of the Grand Palace Hotel in Denver.
They’d done as Maverick had suggested, and after arriving in Denver that afternoon, they’d located the church closest to the stagecoach station and had gotten married in a short ceremony with the children as their witnesses, this time officially.
Afterward, Franz had taken them to an elegant dinner, then they’d come to the hotel. As they’d arrived at the sprawling hotel that took up most of the block, she’d told Franz that they could stay someplace simpler.
But he’d held her hand and tugged her inside, the children following eagerly behind. He’d insisted that he wanted only the very best for his family and his wife. The hotel manager had greeted him warmly and had given him a telegram that Mr. Bliss had sent.
Together, he and Clarabelle had read the telegram, learning that Mr. Bliss had taken Mr. Grover unaware with the raid on the shed behind the assayer’s office. Even though Mr. Grover hadn’t been making the fake currency at the time, all of the supplies were there, including the stash of false notes that Eric had hidden away to help in the investigation. Mr. Grover had been arrested and had already tried to pin the blame on the sheriff, implicating him in Eric’s murder. Apparently the sheriff had denied any part in the counterfeit operation or the murder, but he’d been arrested too.
Franz had been satisfied with the news. Even though nothing was certain and probably wouldn’t be until Mr. Grover and the sheriff had trials, at least Eric’s death was no longer a mystery.
After exploring the hotel for a short while, she and Franz had tucked the children into bed in the adjoining set of rooms, and Franz had paid extra to have a maid stay with the children through the night.
Clarabelle still couldn’t quite get used to the extravagant way Franz spent his money, but he assured her it was nothing. And she guessed it was the lifestyle he was accustomed to—one that was different from anything she’d ever known.
Even now, as she stood at the center of the sitting room, she could only stare with fascination at the elegant mahogany furniture, the settees and matching armchairs positioned in front of the white marble fireplace. Thick blue-green drapes hung in the windows. The wall hangings, rugs, and decorations were all so beautiful that she wasn’t sure she should actually touch anything.
A door opened to the bedchamber beyond, revealing a room with an enormous four-poster bed of the same dark mahogany, framed by bedcurtains. A large bouquet of roses graced the bedside table. And the covers on the bed had been turned down to reveal mounds of pillows and silky sheets.
Her body heated just looking at the bed and realizing that she and Franz would be able to share that bed and every bed from now on. They would get to spend each night together and never have to be apart again.
She could admit that ever since those couple of hours they’d lain together in the bed at the farmhouse, she’d been eager for a repeat. She’d wanted to spend hours lying at his side in his arms, with nothing else to do but hold each other and kiss whenever they wanted.
The very idea of doing so seemed bold of her, almost scandalous. But she couldn’t deny she wanted him in a way that was deep and visceral.
He finished locking the door and pivoted, taking in the room in one sweeping glance. The satisfied look on his face said it was everything he’d expected. It was also everything he was used to, a world that was far more comfortable for him than the barren and simple cabin at the farm.
He shed his coat and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair. Then he began to unbutton his vest.
Again the temperature in her body began to rise. Watching him taking off his clothing was strangely alluring.
