In the Rancher's Arms

“I want you, Tori…

“I want to take you upstairs to my bed and spend the entire night getting to know you the way a husband knows his wife.”

“I know it’s probably too soon…but I want you, too,” Tori said, sounding delightfully breathless. “But there’s something I need to…tell you.”

“What’s that, honey?” Eli asked.

“I don’t know what the protocol is for a situation like this, since I’ve never—”

“You’ve never made love before?” He wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly.

“No, but that isn’t—”

“You’re a virgin?” Eli’s heart stalled.

“Yes.”

A surge of heat flowed throughout his body. Capturing her lips in a kiss that left them both gasping for breath, he pulled her up from the couch. Taking her by the hand, he started toward the stairs.

“We should probably discuss something first,” she said, sounding a little hesitant.

“I don’t want you to worry, honey,” he said, kissing her when they reached the top of the stairs. “We have all night.”

He kissed her again. “And if there’s something else you think we need to talk about, it can wait until later. Right now, I’m going to make love to my wife.”

KATHIE DENOSKY lives in her native southern Illinois on the land her family settled in 1839. She writes highly sensual stories with a generous amount of humor; her books have appeared on the USA TODAY bestseller list and received numerous awards, including two National Reader’s Choice Awards. Kathie enjoys going to rodeos, traveling to research settings for her books and listening to country music. Readers may contact her by emailing [email protected]. They can also visit her website, www.kathiedenosky.com, or find her on Facebook, www.facebook.com/Kathie-DeNosky-Author/278166445536145.

This book is dedicated to my son Bryan

and his lovely wife, Nicole, who met online and found their own happily-ever-after.

WANTED: Intelligent, well-educated, single female with high morals and good character, age 25–35, for immediate marriage to a Wyoming cattle rancher. Must have ranching experience, know how to ride a horse and want children. Only qualified applicants need apply. If interested, email: [email protected]

“Do you, Victoria Anderson, take Eli Laughlin to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?”

Reverend Watkins droned on, but Victoria couldn’t have said whether the man recited the sacred words of the wedding vows or if he were trying to auction off a pile of manure. She was far too nervous to concentrate on anything but the ruggedly handsome, dark-haired stranger standing next to her—the very one whom she would pledge herself to within the next few seconds.

When the rotund little minister cleared his throat and gave her an expectant look, she swallowed the panic threatening to choke her. “I do,” she murmured, her voice surprisingly steady, considering the state of her nerves.

The good reverend turned to her almost-husband and repeated his question, but Victoria heard none of the words. Two short hours ago, Eli Laughlin had been nothing more than a few long-distance phone calls and a half dozen or so email messages. In fact, during the course of their brief acquaintance, they hadn’t even bothered to exchange pictures.

Not that it would have made a difference in her decision to marry him—it wouldn’t have. There just weren’t a lot of options for a down-on-her-luck heiress with less than five hundred dollars to her name and several death threats hanging over her head.

But she fervently wished they had at least discussed physical characteristics. It might have lessened her shock when Eli met her at the airport in Cheyenne. She wasn’t sure how she had expected him to look, but she knew beyond a shadow of doubt, nothing could have prepared her for the reality of the man she had traveled over eighteen hundred miles to marry.

Of course, if she hadn’t been so distracted by the hurried preparations and the urgent need to leave Charlotte, she might have taken a hint from the sound of his voice. She had always heard of someone having bedroom eyes, but Eli Laughlin had a bedroom voice. Smooth and deep, his voice could—as her nanny used to say—charm the bloomers off an old maid. The first time he had called to interview her, just the sound of it had caused goose bumps to shimmer up and down her arms and her pulse to flutter erratically. It stood to reason nature wouldn’t have bestowed that kind of voice on a scrawny little wimp.

Victoria glanced up at him from beneath her lashes—way up. When they had discussed their arrangement, she hadn’t given his size a second thought, hadn’t considered it would matter. She had been more concerned with convincing him that she met his list of qualifications, and listening to him outline his reasons for treating the marriage like a business agreement. But now?