Page 13 of Texas Glory
Like vultures anticipating their prey’s final breath, her brothers stood on the other side of the unfurnished parlor, their arms folded over their chests, their gazes locked on to Dallas as though they were waiting for him to make a mistake. She prayed that he wouldn’t.
Music began to slowly drift across the room. People shuffled back, leaving an empty space in the center of the floor. At the far edge of the circle, a white-haired man played a fiddle.
Dallas extended his hand toward her. “Would you honor me with a dance?”
She lifted her gaze to his and quickly lowered it. “No. I mean … I don’t know how to dance.”
“It’s not hard. I’ll guide you.”
She shook her head briskly. “Please, not in front of all these people.”
“Give me your hand.”
Wishing the floor would suddenly crack open and swallow her, she curled her fingers until her nails dug into her palms.
“Trust me,” he said quietly.
She thought she heard an edge of desperation in his voice, and only then did she realize how he must appear to his friends, his family—holding his hand toward her while she blatantly ignored it. Since no one else was dancing, she assumed everyone expected that the bride and groom would dance first, no doubt alone, the center of attention. Without looking at him, she took a deep ragged breath and slipped her trembling hand into his. Strong and coarse, his fingers closed around hers.
“We’re going to step outside for some fresh air,” he announced in an authoritative voice as he addressed the gathering. “Enjoy the music.”
Cordelia feared she might weep with relief as he guided her through the doors. As soon as she stepped onto the veranda, she released his hand and walked to the far corner. “Thank you.”
The music floated through the open door, laughter and voices mingling with the soft strains. Her husband’s footsteps echoed around her as he neared. Her husband. Dear God, what had she done?
“I suppose your father told you that I was a mean-hearted bastard.”
Cordelia spun around, her eyes wide. Dallas Leigh studied her, his face grim.
“Yes, as a matter of fact he did.”
“What else has he called me?”
“A thief.”
He raised a dark brow as though amused, and she was unable to stop herself from throwing the rest at him. “And a cheat.”
“Yet he gave his blessing for your marriage.”
Humiliation swamped her as tears sprang to her eyes. “Because you offered him something that he valued more than he valued me.” She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, fighting back the burning river of shame. “I’m not certain I can forgive you for that.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness. You can hate me, for all I care, but it won’t change the fact that you are now my wife.”
She flinched at the cold, ruthless reminder. He cursed harshly, and she wondered if he might strike her. With his large, powerful hands, he would be able to inflict a great deal of damage in a very short time.
“I don’t imagine you ever expected your wedding to go exactly as it did today,” he said, his resonant voice enveloping her like a mist at dawn. “I’m sorry for that.”
She dared to look at him. “Sorry enough to let me leave?”
“No.”
She wouldn’t beg, but dear God she wanted to fall to her knees and plead with this man for mercy and freedom.
His gaze dropped to her lips, his brown eyes smoldering with an emotion she couldn’t identify. She didn’t think he was angry, but her wariness increased.
“Where did you learn to kiss?” he asked.
She ran her tongue over her tingling lips, and his eyes darkened further. “Books. I read a lot of books.”
