Page 8 of Rescued by the Alien Bull Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides #6)

ZOHRO

I knew my eyes were shamefully white. I could see the pale glow illuminating Jolene’s face before me, even more strongly than the three moons and stars above.

But there did not seem to be anything I could do about it right now.

Her question had taken me entirely off-guard.

Shock lanced through me, followed by a heady, lusty sort of elation.

I tried to temper that hot spear of feeling.

Would you like to be my husband?

She was not saying she wanted to be my wife. Not precisely, anyway. I needed more information before I got ahead of myself and started hoping I could keep this woman I’d just met in my house. In my life.

In my bed. Empire help me.

“Why?” I croaked.

“Why?” She appeared surprised by my question. “I came here to marry a Zabrian cowboy, didn’t I? And if I had my pick, well…” She moved her narrow shoulders up and down. “I’d like him to be you.” She cleared her throat and looked down at the toes of her boots. “If you want to, anyway.”

“Why?” I asked again. Because apparently all other words had fled my brain tonight. Probably got knocked out by that bracku antler…

Her eyes returned to mine.

“Because you’re nice.”

“Nice.” I echoed the word in absolute disbelief.

Her mouth quirked in an odd fashion. Half frown, half smile.

“Well, nice probably isn’t the right word. Good,” she clarified. “Kind.”

Nice. Good. Kind.

I’d never been called such things, even before my murder conviction. I was much more used to hearing descriptors like arrogant. Brilliant . Unlikeable.

I was respected, practically revered for my skills at my young age, but I was never liked by anyone besides my sister and my father. I was fairly certain I wasn’t liked by anyone on this planet, either.

Except for Jolene.

Because she thought I was kind and good.

I should check her for head injuries, too…

“Um, of course, you don’t have to!” she suddenly said, anxiously twisting her fingers together.

“God, look at me basically proposing to you before I’ve even washed my hands!

And I don’t even know if you want a wife!

” She bit her lip. “Sorry. Are you… Do you have someone already? Or were you maybe looking for a husband instead?” Then, more quietly to herself, “Maybe one of the others will want me…”

Her voice trailed off, and she gazed beyond the night-soaked fences.

There was a taut sadness in her face, a wistful edge to her voice that made it sound like she was trying to convince herself.

Like the idea that one of the other men might want her was nothing but a faraway dream that was now rapidly fading in harsh morning light.

Preposterous.

Just look at her.

A beautiful creature from any angle. A full, soft mouth in a pleasantly formed face.

Hair like liquid metal in the dark and like liquid fire in the light.

Eyes with centres so brilliantly blue – blue that should have been crisp.

Cold. But instead was somehow warm. Like sunlight blazing through a summer sky.

Any, or all, of the unmarried men would want her. Of that, I had no doubt.

I cannot let that happen.

The thought was visceral. Primal and electric, making my bleeding body buzz. I rather alarmingly felt like I’d drag her bodily back into my house at this rate, if she mentioned marrying one of the others again.

“Jolene,” I said, my voice suddenly ragged, “I will be your-”

“Oh! Wait!” she exclaimed. “There’s something I forgot to tell you! I have to say this first!”

I choked on my failed declaration. I had been about to say that I would be her husband. What could she possibly need to tell me now? When such important matters were at hand?

But the significance became apparent when she blurted out her next statement. Two little words that changed everything.

“I’m pregnant!”