"Good man."

He made a face. "Not willingly."

"You're a good man," she disagreed. "And I'll be very proud to be your wife."

He smiled. "My beautiful Morena," he whispered. "Married to the ugliest tough man in Wyoming."

"Liar," she chided. "You're the most gorgeous man alive to me."

His eyebrows arched. "Me?"

"You. It isn't the way you look that makes you gorgeous. It's the man you are."

He flushed.

She grinned. She kissed him again and got to her feet. "We leave first thing in the morning. Mavie and Darby have to come, too, you know."

"They know, too. They're packed already."

She was somber for a moment. "I'm really sorry about Gelly. They say she'll probably do twenty years if they convict her."

"I'm sorry I blamed you," he replied, hugging her close. He sighed. "I had a close call there. She really had me with blinders on."

"You woke up in time, though. That's what counts."

"I suppose it does."

THE WEDDING WAS THE BIGGEST event Branntville could remember since Shelby Kane married King Brannt. The guest list was incredible. It included famous movie stars and television newsmen, sports stars, politicians and even European royalty.

Daryl was on the guest list. He had come by earlier to congratulate them, and to tell Morena he was happy for her. He hadn't been offended that Morena sent the rings back instead of returning them herself, especially when he knew what she'd risked to save Mallory's life. He was just happy that she was safe.

However, he added ruefully, now that he was no longer engaged, his enthusiastic parents were once again offering him as an entree to any eligible young woman. He was resigned, he told her, to being hunted. But who knew, they might find him someone really nice. Like his friend Morena. Mallory stood by, not very patiently, while they spoke. But Daryl shook hands with him and after a few minutes, they were all smiling.

As they settled into the wedding ceremony, Morena, in a designer gown that one of Shelby's former colleagues had made up for her, was radiant and so much in love that she seemed to glow. Her black hair, festooned with pale white pearl flowers, was loose around her shoulders under a veil of illusion with pearl highlights that covered her face. Her gown was traditional, with puff sleeves and a keyhole neckline, a long train...and it was accented with imported Belgian lace. Her jewelry was some of the finer pieces from her mother's collection along with a borrowed jeweled hair clasp from her shy maid of honor, Odalie Everett, who walked down the aisle tall and proud on the arm of Cane Kirk to stand with Mallory, pointedly ignoring Cort Brannt along the way.

The organ sounded the "Wedding March" as Morena walked slowly down the aisle of the ranch chapel to Mallory Kirk, who was standing at the altar with both his brothers as best man. She carried a bouquet of white and yellow roses tied with yellow ribbon. She looked at Mallory and almost tripped at the expression in his dark, loving eyes. What a long way we've come, she thought.

She looked up at him and the rest of the ceremony went by so quickly that she almost missed it. She let him put the ring on her finger, said the appropriate words and peered up at her new husband as he lifted the fingertip veil from her face and saw her for the first time as a wife. It was an old, beautiful tradition that both had looked forward to, in a time when tradition was routinely trampled and ridiculed by the world at large.

"My beautiful wife," he whispered, and smiled as he bent to kiss her with tender reverence.

She kissed him back, sighing as if she had the world in her arms. And she did.

The reception was fun. They fed each other cake, posed for pictures for the press and the photographer who was documenting the wedding, and danced to the live orchestra playing contemporary tunes.

"What a long way we've come," Mallory murmured into her ear as he waltzed her around the room.

"Funny, I was thinking that when we were standing at the altar," she exclaimed.

"Reading each other's minds already," he teased.

She nodded. Her eyes searched his. The electricity between them arced like a live current. She caught her breath at the intensity of feeling there.

"Not yet," she whispered.

He nodded, but his eyes never left hers. "Not yet."

TWO LONG HOURS LATER, they climbed into the limousine that was taking them to San Antonio, where they were spending their wedding night. The next day, they were off to the Caribbean, to a private island owned by a friend who was loaning them his estate for a week. It would be a dream honeymoon. Nothing to do but learn about each other and lie in the sun. Morena was looking forward to it.

They checked in to the suite Mallory had reserved. The bellboy was tipped. The door was locked. The phone was unplugged. Mallory took Morena by the waist and looked into her eyes for so long that she gasped with the feeling that passed between them.

He reached out with a long forefinger and traced a path around a nipple which quickly became erect. She gasped.

"I've dreamed about this for weeks," he whispered.

She nodded, breathless. "So have I."

He bent and nuzzled his nose against hers. The pressure of his finger increased, teasing and withdrawing. "You made me wait," he whispered with patient amusement. "Now I'm going to make you wait."

His mouth opened on hers. He kissed her slowly, with a mastery she was only just beginning to recognize. His big hands were deft and sure as he peeled her out of the exquisite dress and the slip and bra underneath. He kissed his way down her trembling body to her panty line as he eased the last flimsy scraps of clothing from her. His mouth opened on her flat belly and she cried out as his hands moved lower.

He let her go long enough to turn down the bedcovers. He lifted her, kissed her tenderly and laid her on the cool sheets. His eyes made a meal of her nudity as his hands went to his coat. He removed it, and then the tie. He dropped them onto a chair and smiled as his hands worked buttons on his shirt to disclose a broad, muscular chest covered with thick, curling black hair.

She thought about how that was going to feel against her bare breasts and she moved, helpless, on the sheets, shivering a little at the intensity of his gaze.

He chuckled softly. "Anticipation is fun," he murmured.

"Says you," she teased, breathless.

He removed his shoes and socks, his belt, his trousers. Then, slowly, the black boxer shorts he fancied.

She stared at him with red cheeks. She'd seen photographs. Most women had, at some point, even if it was only by looking over a classmate's shoulder at a magazine. But she hadn't dreamed that men looked so, so...

As she looked, he began to swell from the pleasure of her rapt gaze, and she did gasp.

He eased down beside her on the bed. "As you might have guessed," he whispered in a voice gone husky with desire, "I'm a little better endowed than most men. But I won't hurt you. I promise."

"I'm not afraid."

"Bosh." His mouth smoothed over her firm, pretty little breasts. "Of course you are. It's the first time."

"Of course I am," she agreed huskily. "You don't mind...?"

He lifted his head and looked at her with open shock. "What?"