Honeymoon With the Rancher

“Madre Maria,” Tomas began, but Sophia burst out laughing. Even now, Maria was still the boss, and ever would be.

She went forward to Maria and took the older woman’s hands. “If I haven’t said it yet, thank you for letting me be part of your family.”

“You are our daughter now,” Maria said, emotion thickening the words. “Nothing could have made me happier, Sophia. All is as it was meant to be.”

Unbelievably touched, Sophia leaned forward and kissed Maria’s cheek. “Do I need to call you Madre Maria, too, then?” Sophia smiled tenderly at her, understanding yet again why Tomas loved it here so much. It was the people, the family.

“Of course not. You call me Mama.”

Miguel came around the corner carrying a bottle of beer. “I thought I’d find you here in a dark corner.” He winked at Sophia and grinned at Tomas. “It’s time for the wedding couple’s first dance. If you don’t want to dance with your new wife, I will.”

“Not a chance, Miguel.”

Miguel laughed and the foursome made their way into the backyard again.

Lights dotted the scene and a fire burned brightly. Sophia and Tomas had insisted that a regular party at the estancia was what they wanted and it was exactly what they got—food and drink flowing freely, laughter and goodwill and fun. Tomas’s father was talking to Carlos and Margaret was chatting to a young professor of economics that Miguel had brought as his guest. It was a blend of old and new, tradition and innovation as the music changed. Tomas’s smile was wide as he wiggled his eyebrows and swung Sophia into his arms for a tango.

She put her hand on Tomas’s shoulder and admired the ring on her finger. Instead of a traditional band, Tomas had had one fashioned from platinum and amethyst to match the necklace he’d bought her. She wore both the necklace and earrings today, knowing they connected her past to her future.

“My beautiful bride,” Tomas said as they stepped to the music, their feet moving in a one…two…one two three rhythm and their bodies so close together a thread couldn’t pass between them. Sophia’s long skirt made swishing sounds on the short grass. “You are a princess today, Sophia. My beautiful, Argentine princess.”

She saw him looking at the tiara sitting atop her curls. “It was my mother’s. And Maria lent me her blue petticoat that she wore under her dress when she and Carlos married. Wasn’t that sweet?”

“Not as sweet as you,” he replied, gazing down at her with such adoration she felt her pulse give a kick.

“How much longer do we have to stay?” she murmured, and Tomas chuckled as he swung her in a turn and she slid her foot seductively up his leg. “Impatient?”

Their gazes clashed. “No more than you.”

His warm gaze darkened with what she knew now was an edge of desire. The thought no longer frightened her. She welcomed it. She tightened her fingers on the fabric of his jacket.

“You have learned the flavor of the tango well,” he murmured, his breath warm in her ear.

“I was well-motivated,” she returned, smiling saucily at him—the man whom she now called husband. “How long, Tomas?”

“Not long,” he said, putting his lips up to her ear. “The party will go on long after we disappear.”

When the dance ended, Maria herded them to a table holding the wedding cake with several ribbons cascading over its top. One by one the single women pulled on a ribbon, hoping to pick the one with a ring on its end, foretelling that they’d be the next to marry. When the winner happened to be Miguel’s colleague, Tomas burst out laughing and Miguel turned a telling shade of gray.

But then they said their goodbyes, and minutes later were heading back to San Antonio de Areco and the room Tomas had booked there.

The lobby was quiet as they checked in and Tomas held her hand as they made their way to their room. Once inside, Sophia felt nerves slide through her stomach as she took in the turned-down bed. This was her wedding night, and she was completely inexperienced. She wanted everything to be perfect and was entirely unsure how to make it happen.

But then she looked up at Tomas, who had taken off his tuxedo jacket and loosened his tie, and nerves gave way to certainty and then anticipation. This was the man she loved, and who loved her. Nothi

ng else mattered, except wanting to belong to him heart, soul and body. It had been so worth the wait.

She reached behind her and pulled the zipper running down the back of her dress. She stepped out of it, clad in Maria’s pale-blue petticoat. Tomas came forward and took her dress from her hands, draping it carefully over a chair. Then he came back and gently removed the tiara from her hair, putting it on the small table.

The nerves started jumping again, clamoring, demanding.

“Señora Mendoza,” Tomas said softly, taking her hands and holding them out to the side. “My beautiful wife. You do not need tiaras and fancy dresses. You are so beautiful, just as you are.”

“Oh, Tomas,” she sighed, still loving how he was able to woo her with his honesty. She stepped into his embrace. “We’ve waited so long,” she whispered hoarsely. “Make me your wife.”

With one fluid movement he had her in his arms, and he took her to the bed, laying her gently on the coverlet. “You are my wife,” he corrected. “And my life. And I’m going to spend the rest of my days proving it.”