Wedding Night With the Ranger

Dodge City, Kansas. 1880.

Texas Ranger-turned-rancher Colt Severson received plenty of advice on how to handle his wife on their wedding night—but not on what to do if she pointed a shotgun at him!

For Annalee Sapp, becoming Colt’s bride was both a nightmare and a dream come true. The handsome rancher was the perfect husband, if only he hadn’t been tricked into marrying her! He’d be stunned to learn of all the scandalous thoughts she had about him…. But once their wedding night arrives, it’s only a matter of time before their passion explodes…and the truth about their impulsive marriage is revealed!

For sixty years Mills & Boon has provided the ultimate in reading pleasure, and the next sixty years promise to be even more exciting! I’m thrilled my debut story with them is a Mills & Boon Historical UNDONE! I love this new line. Whether this is your first Mills & Boon romance, or one of hundreds, thank you for being a Mills & Boon reader.

I hope you enjoy Annalee and Colt.

Cheers,

Lauri

Lauri Robinson’s chosen genre to write is western historical. When asked why, she says, “Because I know I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to grow up and marry Little Joe Cartwright.”

With a degree in early childhood education, Lauri has spent decades working in the non-profit field and claims once upon a time and happily ever after romance novels have always been a form of stress relief. When her husband suggested she write one, she took the challenge and has loved every minute of the journey.

Lauri lives in rural Minnesota where she and her husband spend every spare moment with their three grown sons and four grandchildren. She works part time, volunteers for several organizations, and is a diehard Elvis and NASCAR fan. Her favorite getaway location is the woods of northern Minnesota on the land homesteaded by her great-grandfather.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Robin Thanks for riding shotgun!

Chapter One

Dodge City, Kansas—1880

“Well, gentlemen, love, as you call it, may have just taken on a whole new meaning for me.” Colt Severson threw the last of the amber liquid in his shot glass against the back of his throat. Gritting his teeth against the fire trickling down his gullet, his stare locked on the woman storming through the swinging doors of the Broken Spoke. The muscles in his neck quivered. From the looks of her, leaving her alone for a few hours to recover from the shock hadn’t been a good decision on his part.

Chairs around his table toppled, grown men leaping from them like rats on a sinking ship as the saloon doors clattered together behind the swirls of Annalee Sapp’s pink skirt. While the men—who moments before had been full of advice about his upcoming wedding night—scrambled, the stock of the gun in her hands rose to her shoulder and the ends of the double barrels leveled on his chest.

The gun didn’t affect him, leastwise not as much as the sight of her. Pink satin, trimmed with white piping that highlighted her remarkable feminine shape—just as it had back at the church—covered her from head to toe and made her creamy-white skin glisten with a rosy glow. Sun-kissed, golden-blond hair pulled up into a puffy cloud flounced as she stomped forward. Little curls dangling at her temples shimmered like specks of gold in a creek even in the dim light of the saloon. The blood in Colt’s veins hummed and his britches became uncomfortably tight. He squirmed in his chair, trusting the movement would relieve the pressure, and met her fire-filled gaze with what he hoped appeared to be a nonchalant if not somewhat bored expression.

“Where’s my father?” she demanded, stopping on the opposite side of the table.

The room had gone quiet, and even Elmer had stopped beating on the keys of the out-of-tune piano in the corner. Continuing his blasé act, Colt reached for the whiskey bottle to refill his shot glass. “I suspect he’s almost to Oklahoma by now.”

Her big, round eyes, the color of how he liked his morning coffee, dark and rich, took on a startled gaze. “Oklahoma?”

He took a pensive sip of whiskey and let his gaze, over the top of the glass, flow from the top of her mound of gold hair to her tiny waist. If there’d ever been a woman who’d turned his world inside out and upside down, it was Annalee Sapp.

The bitter brew warmed in his mouth. As it slid down his throat, she began to wilt. If his gaze and senses hadn’t been so alert, he may have missed the slight quiver of her shoulders and the heightened red-tinged hue covering her cheeks. Instantly, his heated gaze—meant to make her senses leap—backfired. His britches were now two sizes too small, and guilt at causing her distress made the whiskey curdle in his stomach.

The bottom of his glass clanked as it hit the tabletop. He used both hands to push away from the table and stood to face the reason he’d sought the barroom—his bride.

The gun barrels followed his stance, though waving a mite. “Why’d you send him to Oklahoma?” she asked with tight lips.

He had to hand it to her, she had nerve. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he might feel threatened, if not by the gun, then by the loathing in her voice, something that had the ability to sting. Grasping the gun’s barrel, he held it aside and stepped around the table. “I didn’t send him anywhere. He chose to go.”

Her eyes darkened with something he couldn’t quite read. “He chose?” she whispered.

He flinched, the injured sound of her voice stabbing him dead center. Holding her upper arm while relieving her of the gun with his other hand, he led her toward the door. “Come along, my dear wife. We’ll talk about this in private.”

She glanced about the room. As if she’d just realized where they were—in the middle of a saloon full of every size and shape of cowboy—her face became bright red, but she squared her shoulders and marched to the door beside him. To her credit it only took a moment before she seethed, “I may have married you this morning, but I’ll never be your dear wife.”

A twist of her shoulders tried to release his hold, but it didn’t work. He tightened his grasp and kept up with her strutting steps as the swinging doors clattered behind them. They crossed the boardwalk but paused before stepping into the street.

Two boys, no more than half-a-dozen years or so, tussled in the dry dirt. A swirling cloud of dust obscured their scuffling bodies. Angry grunts and shouts were muffled as they rolled, arms and legs intertwined.

Colt didn’t want to release his hold on Annalee in case she bolted, but he really had no choice as the two youngsters could easily get run over by one of the wagons rolling up and down Front Street. Besides, the distraction might assist in relieving some pressure from his groin. It felt as if the front seam of his britches was ready to burst and spring his throbbing manhood for all of Dodge to see.

As his hand slipped from her arm, he held up one finger, silently asking her to stay put. Praying she wouldn’t take off for parts unknown, he stepped into the street.

“Hey there, partners,” he said, trying to snatch the back of one of the boys’ shirts.

The child, slithering about like a baby bull snake, slipped right out of his grasp. Colt set the gun on the ground and took a step closer, to where he could grab both boys. Catching one by the shirt collar, and the other by the waistband of his britches, he pulled the two apart. “Come on, fellas, break it up,” he said, lifting them until their bare toes dangled above the ground.

The cloud of dust slowly settled, exposing two dirt-smeared and freckled faces. He recognized one as Mort Tyler, the blacksmith’s, son, but the other one he didn’t know. Lowering their feet to the ground, but still holding on to them, he asked, “What’s all the ruckus about?”

“I saw it first—” Mort’s son started.

“But I’s the one who got it!” the other interrupted.

“Saw what? Got what?” Colt asked, shifting a steady gaze between the two of them.

The unknown child opened a grubby hand. Lying in the dirt was the faint image of a penny.

Colt let out a low whistle, as if enamored with the money. “Quite the find,” he said, letting his grip on both boys relax. He knelt down to more closely examine the palm. “A treasure indeed.”

“It’s just a penny,” Mort’s son offered, trying to sound indifferent.

Colt hid a smile. “No, that’s not just any penny.” He shook his head. “Nope, that there’s the exact kind I’ve been looking for.”

Their little faces scrunched with frowns. “It is?” the penny holder asked.

“What you needin’ a penny for?” Mort’s son asked.

“Well, you see, Miss Sapp and I were married this morning—”

“We know,” Mort’s son interrupted. “My ma said it was about time someone married her, afore Rev—”

“And,” Colt interjected before the child could continue, “a penny just like that is what I’ve been looking for to give her as a wedding gift.”

It appeared Mort’s son was as gruff as his father. “A penny ain’t much of a gift,” he scoffed.

“But this isn’t just a penny,” Colt said, picking the coin out of the other boy’s hand. “This here is a found penny. That means it’s full of luck.”

“It is?” the other boy asked, eyes agog.

“Yup,” Colt said, and dug his other hand into his pocket. “How about I make a trade with you boys?”

“What sort of trade?” Mort’s kid wanted to know, somewhat skeptic.

Colt held out two dimes. “I’ll trade this here penny for two dimes. One for each of you.”

Their faces lit up like the flame of a struck match head. “Two dimes for one penny?” the original penny holder asked.

“That’s a lot of money for a penny.” Mort’s son stated, folding his arms. “What ain’t you telling us?”

A tiny giggle sounded behind him, but Colt kept his gambling face on. “Every bride needs a penny for her shoe. It’ll bring good luck to her marriage.”

“I ain’t never heard that before.”

“Oh, it’s very true, Martin,” Annalee assured from her stance on the boardwalk.

“You wantin’ this penny, Miss Sapp?” Martin Tyler asked.

“I surely do,” she answered, sounding so sweet and sincere Colt had to lift his gaze, make sure it was Annalee speaking. The charming smile on her face was enough to make his heart leap into his throat. He swallowed a cough, but couldn’t do anything about the heat running through his veins.

Martin Tyler was definitely his father’s son. The gaze he sent Colt was beady and stern. “Seein’ how the lady wants it so bad, twenty cents doesn’t seem like much.”

Colt bit his lip and dug into his pocket again. “All right then.” Looking at the coins he pulled out, he asked, “How about twenty cents each? Two dimes for each of you.”

“It’s a deal!” the other boy said, snatching two of the dimes faster than a chicken on a bug.

Martin scratched his head, but then reached out to seize the other two coins. “I still say that ain’t much of a present.”

Colt stood. “You boys drive a hard bargain.”

Martin nodded like a man very pleased with himself. “You best remember that, Ranger.”

“Martin,” Annalee said with that schoolmarm tone every female seems to master by about the age of six, “You and Samuel need to thank Mr. Severson.”

“Thank you, Mr. Severson,” the boy named Samuel said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Martin added.

“Now, you two run along home. And no more fighting in the street,” Annalee instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” they offered before scrambling up the road.

Colt turned, but the smile on his face faded as her cold stare settled on him. He’d hoped the interaction with the boys had quelled her ire, at least a touch. Evidently it hadn’t. What did he expect? Common sense dictated a man as rough as he would have to do a whole lot more than be kind to a couple of boys to get on her good side.

Dust from a departing wagon floated in the early evening air, but Annalee didn’t seem to notice and barreled right through it without regard to her skirt or shoes. Colt reached down, grabbed the gun and followed.

He caught up to her, and when they reached the opposite boardwalk he tugged her right as she started to turn left. “This way, my dear.”

“I’m not your dear either,” she insisted but didn’t resist. “Where are we going?”

“I rented a room for us at the Dodge House.”

She stopped, dug her heals in like a stubborn mule. “The Dodge House? What for?”

“Because it’s our wedding night. Have you forgotten?”

She glared at him. “Unfortunately, no.”

A smile played with his lips, and he bit them together to keep it from forming. Damn, if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman God had ever placed on this earth. Her delicate face was twisted with self-proclaimed loathing, but nonetheless, he saw a faint glimmer hiding in the back of those brown eyes. The prospect gave him hope, which sent a surge of desire through his veins. He shifted his feet. Just the sight of her made him feel like a bull on the wrong side of the fence. A feeling he should be used to after years of coveting her from afar.

“I have a perfectly good house on the other edge of town. We can spend the night there.” A contemplative grin lifted the sides of her petal-shaped lips. “It has two bedrooms.”

He let out a laugh and tugged her forward. There was no way in hell he’d spend the night at her house, not with the almighty reverend right across the street. “Did you get all of your things packed?” he asked, intentionally changing the subject. “We’ll leave for the ranch first thing in the morning.”

“I believe I’ll remain in town, thank you.” Head held high, she once again marched down the boardwalk beside him.

“I think not, my dear.” Stopping the protest he knew she was ready to emit, he added, “We’ll discuss that in private as well.”

Chapter Two

Trying to stay mad at Colt Severson was like trying to prevent the sun from shining—utterly impossible.

Annalee took a deep breath. His nearness, the warmth of his hand gently holding her arm, was more than enough to make her melt faster than ice in August. She had no willpower when it came to him—absolutely none. All it took was one glance from those startling blue eyes and she was helpless. The way the left side of his mouth curled when he gave her one of his death-defying grins had the ability to send her heart darting around in her chest like a firefly in a mason jar.

What was she going to do? How could she—of all people—be married to him? It was a dream come true and yet a nightmare at the same time. He had no idea—at least she hoped he had no idea about all the nights she’s lain in her single bed, wishing with all her might that he was lying beside her. Doing all the things to her body that Janice Webster said her husband James did. The thought of Colt stroking her skin, kissing her breasts…Annalee clamped her lips together and sucked air in through her nose.

The Dodge House was two blocks away, and she willed herself to make the jaunt without thinking another thought, uttering another word. It wasn’t proper for a woman to have such scandalous thoughts. But gall darn it, those types of thoughts filled her mind every time she saw him. It was as if her body took over, tingling and quivering, hoping beyond hope that he’d touch her. She briefly closed her eyes, tried to imagine she was walking alone. It didn’t work. Her body knew he was right beside her and twittered liked a songbird.

He tipped his head to Kitty Carlson and Donna Dunsbar.

Giggling, they greeted, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Severson.”

“Ladies,” he said sociably.

Annalee gritted her teeth, glaring at them. They both had been at the wedding, knew how shocked she was by the event. Less than an hour after he’d shown up on her doorstep, announcing their immediate wedding, her friends had descended upon her house with all the flurry of a winter snowfall. While she tried to keep from fainting, they’d dressed her and organized a wedding it took most people a month to pull together. She was still trying to recover, still wondering if it was a dream—and Kitty and Donna knew it.

Colt held the door open and, though it was very rude, she ignored the greeting Owen Carp made as they walked through the lobby of the hotel. It wasn’t completely on purpose. She couldn’t offer a greeting. Thoughts of what her married friends had said would happen tonight left her heart waltzing across her chest, making her completely breathless.

She counted the stairs, twenty-one to be exact, as they climbed the staircase to the second floor. The stifling July heat filled the hall, but since her body was already on fire, it really didn’t affect her. Nothing could.

“After you, my dear,” Colt said, and gave a slight bow as he pushed the door wide for her to enter their room.

Their room—the thought made her legs wobble. Stepping in, she paused near the dresser along the wall beside the door, namely because she needed the support. The room, one of the most luxurious the cow town had to offer, provided no relief from the heat, nor from the trembles racking her body. How would she control herself? Keep from attacking him and begging him to do all the things she’s dreamed of him doing to her?

After closing and locking the door, Colt crossed the room and threw open the window sash. The ever-present wind immediately swirled into the room and Annalee let out a sigh, not really in reprieve, but more to clear her lungs before she drew in a deep breath to assist in getting her delinquent body under control. Walking down the street at his side, being called Mrs. Severson, was close to her breaking point.

The incident on the street with Martin Tyler and Samuel Cummings had reminded her of the first night she’d seen him three long years ago. Two boys had been rifling through his saddlebags, and though he’d had a right to protect his belongings, she was just like every other citizen of Dodge—leery of newcomers until they proved themselves—and jumped to the defense of the boys. In no short order, she’d told him if he was so concerned about his possessions, he should never have left his animal unattended. He’d done little more than smile at her with that heart-stopping grin, and since that moment, not a single day had gone by without Colt Severson filling her mind.

Saddened, she closed her eyes, silently admitting she couldn’t be married to him. She had nothing to offer a man of his caliber. Reverend Mitchell told her so, more than once. He also said it wasn’t Christian to think of what she wanted, her happiness. He proclaimed her Christian duty was to help with the needs of the church, help those who couldn’t help themselves.

Why? She asked herself. Why had she said yes?

A loud click vibrated the room. She glanced up in time to watch Colt break open her shotgun. The brows above his cornflower-blue eyes arched as the empty cylinders of both chambers were revealed.

A sparkle not unlike the sun shining on freshly washed windows glowed in his eyes as his gaze met hers. Annalee stifled a moan and her shoulders slumped. She’d dreamed about this day for years, as had most every other woman in Dodge, of becoming Mrs. Colt Severson. In her dreams it had been possible, because love brought them together, not stolen cattle. Her heart started flapping around like a fish out of water. Well, actually it had been behaving in such a way ever since he’d arrived at her house this morning, but all of sudden it beat harder, pounding against the inside walls erratically.

The wave of dark hair falling across his forehead fluttered as he cocked his head to one side, clearly, silently, waiting for her to respond to his findings.

She found an ounce of courage, enough to speak. The thought of lying didn’t have a chance to enter her mind. “I couldn’t find any shells. Pa must have taken them all.”

“That, my dear, was a very stupid thing to do.”

Anger, close to what she’d felt when learning he’d taken himself off to the Broken Spoke shortly after they’d cut their wedding cake, rose up her spine. “Stupid! How dare you—”

“Oh, I dare,” he interrupted, leaning the gun against the table near the window. “Yes, stupid,” he repeated. “And dangerous.” His blue eyes held an annoyed squint as he slowly walked toward her. “Don’t ever draw a gun on a man unless you’re fully prepared to shoot him.”

“I—” she started, but stopped. She had no intention of shooting him, never had. The image of him dancing or making friends with one of dance hall gals had been what sent her marching down the street with the gun. If he thought he could wed her one minute and then carry on as if he was still single the next, he had another think coming. Her ire rose again, and just like back at the saloon the first words she blurted out were “Where is my father?”

He’d stopped directly in front of her. His hands settled on her shoulders. “First, you must promise you’ll never, ever, take a gun into a saloon again.” His face softened, revealing he was the most handsome man ever created. “Please, Annalee, promise me you won’t do that again.”

Whether it was his pleading voice, so utterly sweet, or the way his big, gentle hands rolled over her shoulders, she didn’t know, but all of a sudden heat swirled between her thighs. Beads of sweat broke out at her temples, and she couldn’t breathe. Captivated, she could do nothing but stare into his pools of blue.

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