Country Bride: Country Bride / Woodrose Mountain. RaeAnne Thayne
bunching the material of his jacket. When he lifted his head, ending the kiss, Kate felt nearly faint from the rush of blood to her pounding temples.
There was a look of shock on Luke’s face. His eyes questioned her, but Kate’s thoughts were as scattered as autumn leaves tossed by the wind.
“How much champagne have you had?” he asked softly.
“One glass,” she answered with a sigh, resting her forehead against his heaving chest. Luke hadn’t said taking care of her would be this wonderful. Had she known, she wouldn’t have resented it quite so much earlier.
Luke expelled a harsh breath. “You’ve had more than one glass. I doubt you even know who I am.”
“Of course I do!” she flared. “You’re Luke. Now don’t be ridiculous. Only...”
“Only what?”
“Only you never kissed me before. At least not like that. Why didn’t you tell me you were so good at this?” Finding herself exceptionally witty, she began to laugh.
“I’m taking you home,” Luke said firmly, grabbing her elbow with such force that she was half lifted from the walkway.
“Luke,” she cried. “I don’t want to go back yet.”
His grip relaxed immediately. “Kate Logan, you’re drunk! Except you don’t have the sense to know it.”
“I most certainly am not!” She waved her index finger at him like a schoolmarm. “I’ll have you know that it takes a lot more than one glass of champagne to do me in.”
Luke obviously wasn’t willing to argue the point. His hand cradling her elbow, he led her toward the parking lot.
“I want to stay,” she protested.
He didn’t answer. Then it dawned on her that perhaps she’d misread Luke. Maybe he was trying to get rid of her so he could return to Beth.
“Luke?”
“Kate, please, don’t argue with me.”
“Are you in love with Beth?”
“No.” His answer was clipped and impatient.
“Thank heaven.” Her hand fluttered over her heart. “I don’t think I could bear it if you were.”
Luke stopped abruptly and Kate realized they were standing in front of his truck. He opened the passenger door for her, but she had no intention of climbing in. At least not yet. She wanted to spend more time with Luke, their arms wrapped around each other the way they’d been before. The pain that had battered her heart for weeks had vanished the instant she stepped into his arms.
“Kiss me again, okay?”
“Kate, no.”
“Please?”
“Kate, you’re drunk.”
“And I tell you I’m not.” The one glass of champagne had been just enough to make her a little...reckless. It felt so good to surrender to these new emotions—to lean on Luke. From the moment they’d arrived at the wedding, he’d been telling her how much she needed him. Maybe he was right. There’d been so much upheaval in her life, and Luke was here, warm and kind and solid.
“I’m going to drive you home,” he insisted. From the sound of his voice, Kate could tell he was growing frustrated.
The house would be dark and cold. How Kate feared being alone, and with Clay out of her life, there was only her father. And Luke. If Devin did decide to marry Mrs. Murphy, he might sell the ranch and then Luke would be gone, too. Alarmed at the thought, she placed her hands on his shoulders, her gaze holding his.
“Kate?” Luke coaxed.
“All right, I’ll go back to the house, but on one condition.”
“Kate, come on, be reasonable.”
“I want you to do something for me. You keep telling me you’re my friend and how much you want to help....”
“Just get inside the truck, would you, before someone comes along and finds us arguing?”
“I need your promise first.”
Luke ignored her. “You’ve got a reputation to uphold. You can’t let people in Nightingale see you tipsy. The school board will hear about this and that’ll be the end of your career.”
Kate smiled, shaking her head, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed him again. Being with Luke took the hurt away, and she refused to suffer that kind of pain ever again. “Will you please do what I want?”
“All right,” he muttered, clearly exasperated. “What is it?”
“Oh, thank you,” she murmured, and sighed expressively. This was going to shock him, but no more than it had already shocked her. She didn’t know where the idea had come from, but it seemed suddenly, inarguably right.
Kate smiled at him, her heart shining through her eyes. “It’s simple really. All I want you to do is marry me.”
Early the following day, Devin Logan walked hesitantly into the kitchen where Kate sat drinking her first cup of coffee. She smiled a greeting. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, Princess.” He circled the table twice before he sat down.
Kate watched him curiously, then rose to pour him a cup of coffee and bring it to the table. It was a habit she’d begun after her mother’s death several years earlier.
“Did you and Mrs. Murphy have a good time last night?” Kate asked, before her father could comment on the rumors that were sure to be circulating about her and Luke Rivers. She hadn’t seen Luke yet, but she would soon enough, and she was mentally bracing herself for the confrontation. What a fool she’d made of herself. She cringed at the thought of her marriage proposal and didn’t doubt for a second that Luke was going to take a great deal of delight in tormenting her about it. She suspected it would be a long while before he let her live this one down.
“Looks like rain,” Devin mumbled.
Kate grinned good-naturedly, wondering at her father’s strange mood. “I asked you about last night, not about the weather.”
Devin’s eyes flared briefly with some unnamed emotion, which he quickly disguised. His gaze fell to the steaming mug cupped in his hands.
“Dad? Did you and Mrs. Murphy enjoy yourselves?”
“Why, sure, we had a grand time,” he said with forced enthusiasm.
Kate waited for him to elaborate. Instead he reached for the sugar bowl and resolutely added three heaping teaspoons to his mug. He stirred it so briskly the coffee threatened to slosh over the edge. All the while, he stared blankly into space.
Kate didn’t know what to make of Devin’s unusual behavior. “Dad,” she said, trying again, “is there something on your mind?”
His eyes darted about the room, reluctantly settling on Kate. “What makes you ask that?”
“You just added sugar to your coffee. You’ve been drinking it sugarless for forty years.”
He glared down at the mug, surprise written on his tanned face. “I did?”
“I saw you myself.”
“I did,” he repeated firmly, as if that was what he’d intended all along. “I, ah, seem to have developed a sweet tooth lately.”
It was becoming apparent to Kate that her father’s experience at Clay and Rorie’s wedding reception must have rivaled her own. “Instead of beating around the bush all morning, why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?”
Once