Free Moon Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) by Shirl Henke

Deborah agreed. She had shown Lydia the beautiful engagement ring Rafael had given her. It was a family heirloom, one of the pieces from his aunt's estate. Large and square-cut, the deep blue stone was surrounded by diamonds and set in delicately wrought gold filigree. At Lydia's squeal of delighted awe, Deborah had explained that it was only part of the traditional Creole wedding basket that Rafael had brought her that very morning.
           According to an old Creole custom, the bridegroom brought his betrothed a basket of gifts several days before the marriage as a token of his love. It contained gifts of a highly personal nature, including expensive jewelry.
           She blushed as she described the lovely items in her basket, not mentioning the way Rafael had presented them to her, slipping the ring on as he kissed a blazing path from her left hand up to her throat where he fastened the matching necklace. “Well, besides the ring, there are several other pieces of exquisite antique jewelry, Chinese jade, rubies, amethysts, and pearls. Also a white cashmere shawl, yards of delicate ivory lace, a silk fan and...a few other things.”
           Lydia cocked her head saucily. “A few other things such as what? Don't you dare keep it from me, Deborah Faith Manchester!”
           “Well, a night rail. It's pale lavender, yards and yards of silk, but so sheer I can see right through it,” she confessed.
           “Lavender to match your eyes,” Lydia exclaimed. And then her own blue eyes filled. “Ooh, I shall miss you so when you leave, Deborah!”
           “I'll miss you too, Lydia. You must make plans to visit New Orleans.”
           Lydia hugged her impulsively and giggled. “I'd love to, after about a year. I expect you'll be terribly occupied for at least that long. I doubt Rafael will give you time to think about me!”
           Deborah blushed furiously as she joined her friend in gales of girlish laughter.
     
    * * * *
     
           If Deborah was excited about her forthcoming marriage and Adam opposed to it, Rafael was ambivalent. After a long and painful night of brooding and drinking, he had acted out of a sense of honor. After all, he was responsible for Deborah's predicament, so he must offer marriage. He had written a carefully edited version of their courtship to his family with the sense of a condemned man writing his will. Marriage was so final, it made his twenty-two-year-old soul shudder.
           Then, when Deborah had been summoned into Adam's study, he forgot the animosity radiating from the protective old man, the embarrassment of the social situation, even the anger in which she had parted from him two days earlier. She had stood there so fresh and innocent, all lavender and silver-gilt. He desired her even more in the clear light of morning than he had in the languid glow of firelight.
           When she had set her delicate jaw and stood rigidly, defying both him and her father, he was amazed at his reaction. Her very spirit pleased him more than if she had been a quaking, acquiescent miss, eager to accept his proposal to save face. He found himself using every taunting, teasing tactic that he had practiced during the past weeks in their verbal battle of wits. To his amazement, he discovered that he would not take no for an answer.
           Her heated response when she had finally accepted his proposal incited him to such a degree of passion that he had to exert iron willpower not to finish what they had begun in that deserted cabin. Teaching her the pleasures of the flesh would be an incredible delight.
     
    * * * *
     
           The day of the wedding dawned gray and cloudy; but despite the ride to the church in a chill spring rain, Deborah's spirits were high. She felt giddy and ebullient despite the weather's omen. Only Adam's resigned and withdrawn manner marred the occasion for her.
           When they entered the old