They did, but by the time they were out of sight of the ranch, Felicity began to grow uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him for a long period of time. "How far is it to town?" she asked.
"An hour or so," he replied without looking at her.
Felicity knew he was still angry, although why he should be, she had no idea. If she had thought for one minute he was upset about Mrs. Delano being her matron of honor, she would have brought the subject up again and cleared the air. Some instinct told her his fury had nothing to do with that, however, so she remained silent, acutely aware of his body so close to hers on the wagon seat.
Once again she got that strange ache, deep inside of her. Even in the open air with the stiff Texas breeze whipping around where they sat high on the wagon seat, she could still smell his musky, masculine scent. She knew exactly how hard and warm his body would feel if she were to reach out and touch him. Curling her hands into fists against the temptation, Felicity tried to concentrate on watching the passing scenery. Unfortunately, the unbroken line of the prairie and the broad canopy of blue sky provided inadequate distraction.
It was only natural to feel the way she did, she supposed, after what had happened between them. Part of it was apprehension over the possibility that he might yet change his mind about marrying her. But what was the other part? Surely one lapse had not turned her into a complete wanton, and yet she could not stop the feelings of desire that tortured her every time he came near. What would become of her if he turned her out after all? She shivered slightly at the thought.
Josh slapped the horses to hurry them along. He was not enjoying the ride. Having Felicity so close, where he could feel her every move and practically sense her every emotion, was pure torture. Earlier, when Blanche had arrived, he had been anticipating taking Felicity in his arms. The sharp edge of that desire still prodded him, stirring memories of the way she felt and tasted, the way she yielded in sweet surrender.
Knowing that an open wagon on a public road was hardly the place to indulge such an impulse did nothing to improve his mood.
But that wasn't the only thing bothering him. As strongly as he wanted her, he still suffered from the guilt of having taken her once. Although he had denied it at the time, the truth was that he had seduced her, plain and simple. He had ignored her protests and taken advantage of her innocence to have his way. The knowledge disturbed him, and even the fact that he intended to marry her did little to ease his conscience.
"I want you to buy whatever you need in town," guilt prompted him to say. "I want you to have a fancy white wedding dress, so buy the best material they have." That should please her, he thought. Only the very privileged could indulge in the custom of wearing white on their wedding day. Felicity stared at him in amazement. What on earth was he thinking of? "I can't wear white," she said in a strained voice, only too conscious of how risky it might be to displease him by refusing his wishes.
Josh frowned, a little surprised at her reaction. Of course, a white dress would not be of much use to a rancher's wife. Maybe she was only being sensible. "I know it's not practical and that you'll probably never be able to wear it for anything else, but I told you, I want this wedding to be fancy." He glanced over at her to be sure she understood that he wanted the best for her. She turned away from him instantly, but he still caught a glimpse of her face. Her expression startled him.
"I can't wear white," Felicity explained through stiff lips, "because of what happened." Too mortified to meet his eyes, she studied her clenched fists instead.
A full minute passed before Josh comprehended her meaning. When he did, he jerked the team to a dead halt in the middle of the road. "What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.
"You know what it means, and I've asked you before not to swear at me," Felicity said primly in an effort to divert his attention.
Her effort failed. "That's ridiculous! You can wear any color you want," Josh said, shifting in the seat to face her.
Dismayed at her own temerity, she still insisted, "Not white." She was a fool to oppose his wishes, but she could not seem to stop herself.
"No one's going to know," he pointed out impatiently, although his irritation was directed more at himself than at her. Knowing she had every reason to feel soiled because of what he had done only angered him more.
"I'll know," Felicity said softly, closing her eyes against the tears that suddenly threatened.
Dropping the reins, Josh grabbed her arms and turned her forcibly toward him. "But I'm the only one who'll care, and I want you in white." In his frustration, he longed to shake her, to use his physical strength to force her into accepting this small token of restitution. But when he saw her tortured face, he understood the folly of such a wish. His hold on her gentled as the urge to comfort her overwhelmed him, and he drew her close.
"No!" she said, but the sound was muffled against his mouth. In another second she was thinking "yes" as his arms slid around her, enveloping her in their strength. All thoughts of their argument fled before the onslaught of his kiss. The ache in her stomach became raw pain, and she clung to him frantically. The whole world lurched in reaction.
He thrust her away, muttering the kind of words she had asked him not to use, and scrambled for the reins. In the next instant she realized that the whole world had not lurched, only their wagon. The horses, sensing the lack of control, had made a tentative bid for freedom. He quickly checked that bid. By the time he had subdued the horses, Felicity had regained her own control. She tensed defensively, recalling Blanche's warning about letting him have his own way. She had weakened for a moment but she was strong now. Ignoring her previous fears about displeasing him, she prepared to fight him off if he tried to kiss her again. She simply could not allow it, not if she wanted to maintain her own pride.
Josh looked down at her, his breath still coming hard and fast. He wanted nothing more than to drag her over into the back of the wagon and make love to her until she sobbed his name. Then she would have neither the strength nor the inclination to deny him anything. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place, a fact he had almost forgotten, with embarrassing consequences. He sighed in frustration.
"You are going to wear white," he said hoarsely, and slapped the team into motion. There, now she would understand that he was determined to honor her publicly, no matter what might have happened privately.
Felicity pressed her lips together over the sharp words that trembled on her tongue. Why was he so determined to humiliate her? She would feel like a hypocrite decked out in a virginal white gown. But she realized the danger of arguing with him anymore. If he thought her too stubborn and sharp-tongued, he might yet send her away. If he insisted, she would buy white material. She would simply not use it.
Felicity recognized the town of Prospect even though she had never seen it before. In her travels she had seen a hundred towns exactly like it: one main street where the major businesses were located, and several side streets lined with houses in varying states of repair. In spite of the uncomfortable silence that still stretched between her and Mr. Logan, she felt the familiar surge of excitement over coming to a new place. Apprehension mingled with her excitement this time, though. This time she was not the ragged child of an itinerant photographer, her figure hidden by a baggy dress, her golden hair braided tightly and tucked up out of sight beneath a faded bonnet so no one would notice her. Today she was Josh Logan's intended bride, and everyone would want to get a look at her.
Fortunately, the town was fairly deserted, although enough idlers lined the street to make her feel uncomfortable. All of them turned to watch her drive by.