Page 12 of Texas Glory
“That doesn’t leave much,” Reverend Tucker said. “Leaves enough.”
“Very well. Do you, Cordelia Jane McQueen, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to honor from this day forward?”
She held her silence, and Dallas damned his impaient nature. He should have taken a few minutes to put her at ease, to talk with her. He’d been so worried that he’d lose this opportunity to have a wife that he had rushed into it without considering her feelings. He’d call the whole thing off if he didn’t think he’d lose the respect of every person standing in his front parlor.
Reverend Tucker rubbed the side of his nose. “I’ve had dealings with Dallas off and on for over five years now. I can assure you that it won’t be difficult to honor him.”
“I do,” she said quietly.
Dallas worked hard not to let the relief show in his face.
Reverend Tucker turned to him. “And do you, Dallas Leigh, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through sickness and through health, to honor and to cherish from this day forward?”
“I do.”
“You have a ring?”
Nodding, Dallas reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring that had once belonged to his mother, had once been worn by Amelia. Awkwardly, he tugged off the glove that covered Cordelia’s left hand. Her hand was almost as white as the glove … and as cold as a river in winter. He’d heard once that if a woman had cold hands, she had a warm heart He latched on to that small hopeful thought as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
He glanced at Reverend Tucker. “Sorry, Reverend, I got ahead of you.”
Reverend Tucker smiled. “That’s all right. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Dallas’s mouth went dry, and now his fingers trembled worse than hers as he slowly lifted the veil.
She had a cute little chin and the reddest lips he’d ever seen. Perhaps the red seemed more brilliant because her skin was incredibly pale, as though it had never known the touch of the sun. Her mouth reminded him of a ripe strawberry, shaped to torment a man. He could live with that.
He whipped the veil up and against his will, his gaze latched on to her nose. Her tiny, perfect nose.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at Austin. Austin’s mouth had dropped open. Austin jerked his gaze to Cameron, who looked as stunned as Dallas felt.
“Your brother has a strange sense of humor,” Dallas said quietly as he turned his attention back to the perusal of his new bride. She had brown eyes that reminded him of a fawn he’d once seen. They were shaped like almonds, large … frightened.
He hated the fear reflected there and decided if he could make her relax, could fill those eyes with happiness, they would be her most striking feature.
Dallas smiled. “Let’s see if your brother likes my sense of humor.”
He’d planned all along to give her a quick kiss and be done with it, but he understood that sometimes the circumstances demanded that he change the plans. He decided a long, slow, enjoyable kiss was in order, might even make her brothers squirm.
He cradled her face in his large hands, lowered his mouth the short distance to hers, and discovered what he should have known: she’d never been kissed. She’d puckered her lips as though she’d just bitten into a lemon.
He drew back because he had no desire to initiate her into the proper way to kiss in front of the whole town.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Reverend Tucker’s voice boomed. “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Dallas Leigh.”
CHAPTER
THREE
She was married.
Cordelia stared at the wide band of filigreed silver on her finger. She wasn’t surprised to discover that it didn’t fit properly. Bending her finger to keep the ring from slipping off, she feared nothing in her life would ever feel right again.
People she had never met introduced themselves, the men smiling broadly as though their happiness for her husband knew no bounds, the few women wiping tears from their eyes as though they knew she was doomed to unhappiness. All called her Mrs. Leigh. She wasn’t comfortable with the name, but she couldn’t dredge up the courage to ask them to call her Cordelia.
Pumping Dallas’s hand, men congratulated him. While women kissed his cheek, he never let his eyes stray from her. Her mind had turned into a freshly painted blackboard, erased clean of all previous thoughts and shared knowledge. She seemed unable to remember the simplest of statements. He was her husband, and she had no idea how to uphold her end of the vows they had exchanged—how to honor him.
When her mother had become incapacitated, Cordelia’s world had shrunk until it encompassed little more than her mother’s bedroom, her family, and works of fiction. Until this moment, she didn’t realize how ill-prepared she was to become a wife.
