With her back to her guests, Tory tossed the bouquet over her head, then spun about to see Mrs. Seitz nearly shove her eighteen-year-old cousin out of the way to grab the flowers. The seventy-year-old proudly waved the bouquet in the air, catching sight of Mr. Weaver by the punch bowl. He colored a deep red.
After that the guests started to leave, surrounding Tory and Slade to say their goodbyes. Slade by her side felt right. Maybe this could work. Please, Lord, give me the strength to do what I need to be a good wife and mother.
* * *
The bellow of a bullfrog and the occasional neigh from a horse in the paddock vied with the chorus of insects. The nearly full moon lit the darkness, creating shadows that danced in the warm breeze. Tory, dressed now in shorts and a T-shirt, sat on the porch swing with her legs drawn up and her arms clasping them to her chest. Resting her head on her knees, she listened to the night sounds and thought back over her wedding day.
She was no longer Tory Alexander, but Tory Donaldson. That realization produced a constriction in her chest. She was responsible for more than herself now. Her arms around her legs tightened. Everyone was gone, even her family who were staying at a motel in town and Slade’s brother. It was just Mindy, Slade and her. She no longer heard nature’s background noise. The lack of voices isolated her, sharpening her senses.
She knew Slade was there before she saw him standing by the steps. She’d heard the soft shuffle of his feet moving across the yard; she’d thought she’d smelled his lime-scented aftershave wafting to her. Lifting her head, she asked, “Did you find it?”
Slade produced the stuffed pony. “By the swing set.”
“Good. I know how important favorite toys are.”
“I’ll be right back.” Slade mounted the steps and went into the house.
Minutes later he returned and folded his long length into the chair next to the swing. “She was still awake, waiting for me to bring Belle. After the excitement of today, I’d have thought she would have been asleep the second her head hit the pillow.”
“Belle is special to Mindy.”
“The stuffed one as well as the real one.” He stretched his legs out in front and crossed them at the ankles. “I don’t know about you, but when my head hits the pillow, I’ll be asleep.”
Sleep? She didn’t know if she could right now with Slade only a wall away from her. When she had accepted his proposal, she hadn’t really thought about the sleeping arrangement. Even though he didn’t share her bedroom, they shared a small house. She’d avoided any kind of level of intimacy for so long she wasn’t sure how to share one bathroom, the same living quarters, even the kitchen first thing in the morning.
“It has been a long day,” she finally said, his silence indicating he expected her to say something. She unfolded her legs and swung them to the floor. Standing, she rolled her shoulders and worked out the kinks.
When he rose, too, the small porch suddenly became smaller. She could definitely smell his aftershave as the scent surrounded her. The distance between them was less than an arm’s length. If she wanted, she could reach out and touch him easily. In the dim light from inside the house she could see his handsome features, marked with uncertainty and tenderness.
He quirked a smile. “I realize this is a bit awkward.”
“A little.” When his smile grew, she said, “Okay, a lot.”
He shifted closer, linking his hand with hers. “We’ll make this work.”
“For Mindy.”
“For us, Tory.”
His voice, pitched low, flowed over her. She shivered in the warm, June night. His hand slid up her arm, sending a cascade of chills down it. He moved even closer until there was only a breath between them. Cupping her face with his other hand, he stared into her eyes as though trying to read what was in her soul.
Exhausted from the long day and the emotional treadmill she’d been on, Tory melted against him, her legs giving out. He tilted her chin up, pausing for a few seconds before bringing his mouth down on hers. The mating of their lips wasn’t like the quick peck at the end of the wedding ceremony; it was a blending of breaths and parrying of tongues. Weak with sensations foreign to her, Tory welcomed the taste of him—until he wound his arms about her, pressing her closer.
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Panic eroded her composure, prodding her heart to crash against her rib cage. She shoved him away, gasping for air. His startled expression rendered her speechless. She pushed past him, taking the steps two at a time.
The pounding of her bare feet on the cool grass matched the pounding of her pulse. She saw the one light on in the barn and headed for it. Inside she stopped, bending over and drawing gulps of air into her burning lungs.
How in the world had she thought she was ready for this?
What must Slade think? Her husband had kissed her and she had fallen apart. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked toward the back of the barn. Opening the door, she stood staring at the pasture beyond, the moonlight streaming down in a crystal clear sky. The scent of hay and horses saturated the air, a familiar scent that usually comforted her. Except that her heart beat rapidly and she couldn’t get a decent breath.
“Tory, what just happened back there?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
She tensed, her back to Slade.
“Tory?”
She bit the inside of her
