Read Montana Mavericks Weddings for Free Online Page B

sigh, he bent his head and touched his lips tenderly to hers. This, she thought, is the way a man would kiss a new bride, with breathless tenderness.
    A sob broke from her lips.
    He lifted his head and looked at her tormentedly. “God, Abby!” he breathed roughly.
    She touched his hard mouth, trying to fight back tears.
    Before she could speak, Madame was back, pretending not to notice the tension in the air.
    â€œHere,” she said, proferring a long lace-trimmed veil with the same embroidery that graced the gown, all of it supported by a tiny cap lavishly sewn with seed pearls. “It matches the gown perfectly, yes?”
    â€œYes,” Abby said. She touched it, her face drawn. “But I don’t think…”
    â€œShe’ll have it,” Chayce said curtly. “The dress, too.”
    â€œBut, Chayce,” Abby argued.
    â€œShe’ll need your measurements,” he told Abby. He turned to Madame Lili. “Will you bill me, or shall I give you my credit card?”
    â€œYou are Mr. Derringer, yes?” she asked with asmile at his faint surprise. “I shall bill you. And may I offer my congratulations?”
    â€œI’m not marrying Mr. Derringer,” Abby said without looking at Chayce. “He’s my guardian.”
    Madame was visibly taken aback. “Forgive me! I thought…” She laughed nervously. “Of course, there is an affection between you. I was mistaken. Come, my dear, let us take your measurements.”
    Chayce went out to the truck with his hands deep in his pockets, morose and anguished. Of course Madame had been mistaken. Abby was fond of him, just as he was fond of her. She’d marry Troy and learn to love him. He was close to her own age, a hard worker and a fine man.
    Sure, he thought irritably as he climbed impatiently into the cab of the truck. He was going to remake Abby into Eve Payne, too, and she was going to let him. He hit the steering wheel hard with his hand, furious at the misery his life had become. Four years he’d stayed away, kept his distance, protected Abby from his headlong ardor. And it hadn’t made a difference at all. He looked at her and wanted her. He touched her and she was his, yielded and hungry and full of secret fires.
    His eyes closed. He had to stop this. He was too old for her. She’d loved him all her life and she was just confused. It had to be gratitude and affection, along with a natural curiosity about sex. He was kidding himself that it could be anything more, ather age. He excited her, but Troy could probably do that, too, if he approached her in the right way. He couldn’t risk his future and her happiness on some crazy juvenile impulse. Besides, he’d had a taste of love eternal, hadn’t he? Beverly had taken him for a hell of a ride when he was only a few years older than Abby was now, and he’d never recovered.
    He tried to picture Abby going from his arms to another man’s and failed miserably. She couldn’t even let her fiancé touch her. His eyes closed. Dear God, when he thought of her in that wedding gown, he felt sick. Troy would probably complain about the expense of the dress and the fact that Chayce had bought it for her. He wouldn’t care how glorious she looked in it, because he didn’t really think much of the way she dressed. He’d keep her in garments suited to elderly ladies and lose his temper if she tried to wear anything that showed her exquisite figure.
    She was coming out of the boutique, walking slowly back toward the truck, her face hardly that of a woman expecting to be a bride within a month. She looked more like a condemned prisoner going to the gallows.
    Without even thinking, he got out and went around to open the door for her. It was an act of old-world courtesy that was as much a part of him as his black hair with the silver sprinkled around his temples.
    She smiled with pleasant surprise, because Troydidn’t