Never Marry a Cowboy by Lorraine Heath Page A

aside, sat on the ledge, and swung one leg over onto the roof.
    â€œChristian?”
    He glanced over his shoulder. She lay in the bed alone, such a frail creature, the blankets drawn up to her chin. Alone. She would sleep in solitude for the remainder of her nights.
    She offered him a hint of a smile. “Now you can’t argue that the dream isn’t over, so thank you for all that you’ve given me.”
    â€œIt was my pleasure.” He leaned out the window, into the darkness. He would return to his room at the jail where a narrow cot and a full bottle of whiskey awaited him.
    Tomorrow, he would escort her to the stagecoach and, amidst wagging tongues, give her a final farewell. As the months passed, he’d wait for the letter from David that announced he was truly free of her.
    Truly free of her and her blasted dream.
    Ashton clutched the blankets as she studied the part of Kit that still remained in her room. What was keeping him there? If he didn’t leave soon, she’d lose the control she fought so desperately to keep and call him back, ask him at least to hold her for a while as she had so often imagined her husband holding her.
    Oh, she had wanted to be a bride, but it had all been false. Not a true dream, only pretense. It wasn’t truly what she’d wanted, but she refused to hurt the two men who had tried to give her what they thought she desired.
    Kit slipped back into her room. She bolted upright, her fingers tightening around the blankets as heshrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. His previously loosened cravat joined it. “What are you doing?” she asked.
    â€œA bride should not spend her wedding night sleeping alone,” he said quietly as he unfastened the buttons on his shirt.
    Her heart bounced against her ribs. “But I thought…I mean, David indicated—”
    â€œSleep, Ashton. We will do no more than sleep.”
    His words stilled her escalating hopes that perhaps she would know the full measure of a man’s love. That longing was her true dream. One she knew would never be realized.
    He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair. The muted light from the lamp revealed his broad chest and shoulders in glorious splendor. Had he arrived from England with such hardened muscles and firmness of physique? She thought not. She imagined he’d arrived thinner, but just as elegant. His ancestry more than nature had shaped him.
    The bed dipped as he dropped onto its edge and began to remove his shoes. With one hand, she grabbed the edge of the mattress to prevent herself from rolling toward him. Whatever would he think if he found her thin frame next to his powerful one?
    The room contained more shadow than light, but still she could make out each of his movements. He stood, and with a single fluid motion, shucked his trousers and slipped beneath the sheets, sheets that bunched at his hips, leaving his taut stomach and chest visible. She gripped the blankets more tightly because to do otherwise might give her fingers the freedom to touch him as she desperately wanted to do.
    â€œCome here, Ashton,” he said, in a low seductive voice.
    She jerked her gaze to his face. Even in the shadows, she felt the intensity of his stare. “I’m not certain this is a wise idea.”
    â€œNervous?” he asked.
    â€œAren’t brides supposed to be?”
    â€œNot necessarily. I doubt either Abbie or Jessye was nervous on her wedding night.”
    â€œYes, well, perhaps they knew more of what to expect.”
    â€œI’ve told you what to expect. Sleep.”
    â€œThen why do I need to come to you?”
    â€œSo I can hold you.”
    She took a deep shuddering breath. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
    â€œThat fact did not seem to bother you yesterday when you rode on the horse with your back pressed to my chest.”
    He spoke the truth. She had enjoyed it, but far more articles