Blanche made a rude noise. "I've known Joshua Logan for twelve years, and he's never wanted to get married, not until you came along. If he had wanted to, there's a hundred women within the sound of my voice he could have had for the asking, myself included. But he never asked, not once. Then he found you and practically forced you into taking him. Now, why do you think that is?"

Felicity could not think of a reason, so she simply shook her head numbly. All of this was too much to take in all at once.

"Well, you think about it. Especially think about it while Joshua is making love to you tonight," Blanche advised with a mischievous smile. She rose gracefully to her feet. "Although, now that I think about it, he probably won't get much of a chance. I'll bet the boys have a shivaree planned. They'll probably kidnap either you or Josh so you can't be together tonight. That's a pretty common trick."

"I doubt they'll do anything like that," Felicity said, glad the topic had changed from such terribly disturbing subjects. "I heard Cookie tell Candace that Mr. Logan had threatened violence to any men who pulled any pranks."

Blanche sniffed in annoyance. "What fun is a wedding if you can't cause some mischief? Maybe I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Please don't!" Felicity implored, jumping to her feet. She found the prospect of being separated from Mr. Logan even more terrifying than the prospect of being married to him.

"Don't worry, honey," Blanche assured her. "I won't do anything mean. Maybe I can think of a little something to liven things up, though." With that cryptic remark, she made a swift foray outside to determine if it was time to begin the ceremony.

The walk from the front porch of the house to where Mr. Logan and the preacher stood out on the hastily constructed dance floor in the middle of the yard was the longest of Felicity's life. The myriad staring faces blurred as she moved by, concentrating only on reaching her goal.

Blanche Delano's regal figure cut a path through the crowd for her, which she gratefully followed. As if from a distance, Felicity could hear the murmur of voices rolling before her, but she never caught up with it. As she passed, the crowd grew silent. By the time she reached Mr. Logan, an anticipatory hush had fallen over the entire ranch yard.

Josh could hardly believe the beautiful woman approaching him was the same bedraggled girl he had carried into his house a scant week earlier. How could he ever have mistaken her for a child? She was every inch a woman now, and in every way. His body tingled with the memory of his flesh against hers and with the knowledge that before this day was over, he would know her again. She would be his, completely his. His gaze snagged hers, sending her that silent message, and he thought she faltered slightly as she approached.

Felicity's heart lurched in her chest. How could he look at her like that in front of all these people? she wondered frantically. What would they think? Would they guess that she was not the virginal bride she should have been, that she should rightfully have worn a dress the color of Blanche's, the one Blanche had jokingly referred to as the dress of a "scarlet woman"?

In spite of her dismay, she could not help the tremor of reaction that rippled through her at the sight of him standing so tall and straight in the same black suit he had worn for his photograph. He looked like some mythical patriarch with his silver hair glittering in the sunlight and ruffled by the breeze, his handsome face solemn and intent, his gray eyes glowing as if from some inner fire.

When he reached out to take her hand, the air around her seemed to evaporate, leaving her in a breathless expectancy. The minister prompted her for vows which came from her throat on a feeble thread of sound, in marked contrast to the confidence with which Mr. Logan uttered his. At last the ceremony was over and Mr. Logan bent to kiss her. His lips touched hers chastely and briefly, but when he drew back, his eyes were stormy with desire. She felt a scorching heat, and her body quivered as if he had touched her intimately.

For the rest of her life, Felicity remembered that day as through a vague mist. The whole event seemed to be happening to someone else. First there were a hundred people coming up to meet her and shake her hand and wish her well on her marriage. A few gentlemen were bold enough to steal a kiss, but only a few. Not many dared defy Mr. Logan's discouraging glare. She was grateful for that.

Then came the dinner, a feast fit for a king, or so everyone said. Felicity could barely swallow a bite. After that came dancing, all afternoon and into the night. At first Felicity was embarrassed because she did not know how to dance, never having had the opportunity to learn. Her new husband laughed off her concerns, quickly showing her the steps. She was grateful to have something else on which to concentrate when he took her in his arms. Dancing with him, standing so close, touching him with such familiarity left her breathless and disturbed. But, she quickly discovered, she only suffered those symptoms when dancing with her husband. When another man-someone whose name she had forgotten- claimed her for the next dance, she experienced only self-consciousness over moving her feet correctly.

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.