To her amazement, virtually every man present wanted to partner her for a dance. Only the fact that the fiddlers and the caller took frequent breaks saved her from lameness.
Oddly, in spite of her popularity and the swarms of people around her at every moment, Felicity never lost sight of her husband. As if some invisible cord bound them, she was constantly aware of his every movement, of the people he spoke to, of the women he danced with, even of how many times he visited the whiskey barrel. Their gazes met frequently, his silver eyes sweeping over the crowd until they found her, and Felicity felt their intensity like a physical touch.
It was very late when he came to claim her for a waltz. "Are you having a good time?" he asked, drawing her close to the warmth of his body.
"Yes," she lied, secretly wishing that all the strangers would disappear.
"You look tired," he remarked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
"I am. I… I didn't sleep very well last night. Excitement, I guess," she admitted reluctantly.
"Would you like to go to bed?"
Felicity's stomach did a flip-flop. He wanted to go to bed with her. Right now. "Can we? I mean, with all these people here?" she corrected, glad that the soft lights from the lanterns would not reveal her blush.
But he saw her embarrassment anyway. "No," he chuckled softly. "We can't go anywhere. If they see us sneaking off together, we'll never get away. You can, though. Just pretend you're going to the… uh… little house, and then just keep going."
"Oh," she said, unbearably disappointed. Now that she was in his arms, she did not want to let him go, not for a moment, and she certainly didn't want to go off to bed by herself. After the long week of struggling against her own emotions as valiantly as she had struggled against his, she was more than ready to give up the battle.
He chuckled again, pulling her even closer so she could feel his heart pounding against her own. "Don't worry," he assured her in a delicious whisper against her ear, "I'll be along as soon as I can sneak away myself."
Shivers raced down her back to tingle in secret places. Felicity had to call upon all her willpower to maintain a dignified pose when what she wanted to do was press her mouth to his and make him kiss her the way he had kissed her on the night they had first made love. Desperately needing some reassurance that he felt the same, she pulled away from him slightly so she could see his face.
"Oh, God," he muttered, his gray eyes glowing. "Don't look at me like that, or I'll carry you off right now in front of everybody."
Her knees went so weak that she never knew how she had the strength to step away from him when the music ended. By conscious effort, she turned from him and put one foot in front of the other until she was walking in the direction of the outhouse.
The ranch house was dark and quiet when she entered, the only sound, the rustle of her skirts as she stepped into the front room. For a moment she paused in indecision, prickles of unease and anticipation tingling over her body. She would need to fetch her nightdress from her own bedroom. Should she change in there and then go to Mr. Logan's room or…
"In here," Candace called from the opposite side of the parlor.
Felicity looked up to see her standing in the doorway of a room she had never entered. Curiosity drew her. The room was a bedroom, much larger than the other two and furnished with an elegance that seemed out of place on a western ranch. The chestnut hues of the oversize mahogany bedstead and chests gleamed richly in the lamplight. Heavy blue velvet draperies hung at the windows over cream-colored Irish lace, matching the velvet and lace counterpane that lay neatly folded at the foot of the huge feather bed.
"Whose bedroom is this?" Felicity asked in amazement.
"This was the room Mr. Josh's parents slept in, at least until Mrs. Logan decided… Well, anyway, it's the master bedroom. This is the room where the master of the Rocking L Ranch should take his bride." Candace stood back, her dark eyes glittering with an emotion Felicity could not name.
"It's beautiful," Felicity said, glancing around again. Then something else occurred to her. "When did you do all this?" she asked, gesturing to include the freshly ironed sheets on the turned-down bed, the brightly oiled furniture, and the cut flowers gracing the bedside table.
Candace shrugged modestly. "This afternoon." Before Felicity could respond, she added, "I moved your things over, and Mr. Josh's, too. Here, I'll help you get out of that dress."
Felicity gratefully accepted Candace's offer, suddenly realizing how very tired she was, so tired that even her previous excitement now seemed blunted. By the time Candace helped her into her nightdress and tucked her into the huge bed, she was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open.
"Thank you… for everything, Candace," Felicity said as the black woman carefully hung the wedding dress in the enormous wardrobe.
Candace waved away her gratitude. "I was glad to do it. I was starting to think I'd never get a chance to make up Mr. Josh's marriage bed," she said with a twinkle. Then she came over, closer to where Felicity lay propped up against her pillow. Her face grew grave. "I know Mr. Josh will be good to you tonight, but if he goes too fast, you tell him to slow down. Sometimes men get excited and forget that the woman has feelings, too."
Felicity nodded, blushing furiously as she realized that Candace did not know what had already happened. What could she think when she found no bloodstains on the sheets tomorrow? Felicity had already scrubbed those stains from her petticoats days ago. She lowered her eyes so Candace would not read her shame.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," Candace said, patting Felicity's shoulder comfortingly. "It's a natural thing when two people love each other." Felicity watched Candace's ebony hand lightly stroke the golden hair she had left loose at the older woman's insistence. "You do love him, don't you?" Candace asked softly.
Felicity nodded again, unable to speak around the lump of pain clogging her throat. Yes, she knew it now. She did love him. But how would she ever get him to love her in return?
As if sensing her anguish, Candace allowed her comforting hand to slip around Felicity's slender shoulders in a small, reassuring hug. "Don't worry. There's nothing to be afraid of. My Joshua is a good man. You'll see."
Felicity closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and allowed Candace to adjust her pillow so she could lie flat. "Good night," she whispered in response to Candace's parting words, aware that Candace had turned the lamp down low in preparation for what she imagined would be the romantic interlude ahead.
In the darkened room, beneath the silken sheets, Felicity curled herself into a ball of misery. Her feet and legs ached from all the dancing she had done, but that was nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she waited for her husband to come to her. The tingling anticipation she had felt earlier settled into dread. She had almost forgotten how angry he had been with her all week, how often they had quarreled. Was he still angry beneath the courteous facade he had worn for their wedding guests? Would he take that anger out on her?
Or would this night be as passionate as their first encounter? Would he raise her to the heights of ecstasy once again or use his strength to degrade her? Strangely, she found both possibilities equally terrifying. As much as she would hate his cruelty, she also feared the mindless abandon his touch would elicit, the loss of control and her own feverish need. Thinking back to how she had acted that first time, she hardly recognized herself, hardly credited her own behavior.