Chapter Fifteen
They rode double back to the ranch. Elizabeth’s shawl was no match for the falling temperature. She’d fought a bit, but, by applying sense to her practical side, Asa had managed to get her to sit in front of him on the saddle. He’d wrapped his duster around her, and now they were both as snug as a bug in a rug. Asa grimaced as Shameless stumbled over a dip in the road. Elizabeth’s soft buttocks pressed harder against his erection. If he didn’t get a chance to adjust things soon, he was going to be permanently bent double.
Shameless whinnied to Willoughby who nickered back. Elizabeth stirred in his arms.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” She yawned, and pushed her hair back from her face. “I fell asleep.”
He could tell from the way she fussed with her hair and clothes, she was embarrassed. “No problem.”
She tried to sit up. The coat jerked her back against his chest. She sat there a minute, not sure what to do. To help her into acceptance, he hitched her back against him with the arm around her waist. She wasn’t going anywhere.
That prompted another second of stillness as she registered the state of his arousal. After a heartbeat, she relaxed infinitesimally against him. “How did it go at the bank?”
“Fair enough.”
From all her squirming, he guessed she was trying to twist around to see his face. “What do you mean, fair enough?”
He shrugged. “You know the Rocking C is in a pickle.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s going to take time to get the pickle out of the barrel.” A lot of time.
“But everything’s all right?”
“I’ve got it under control.” That wasn’t an outright lie. With his life savings, he’d managed to buy a month’s extension on the note. If he made the railroad beef contract, they’d be fine. If he didn’t…well, that was a line of thought he wasn’t pursuing.
Her struggles continued. He sighed, unbuttoned the coat, and lifted her up. She didn’t seem to get the hint. “Swing your leg over.”
“Oh.” She did as he instructed, wiggling and shifting until she was straddling his lap, facing him. As soon as she was settled, she all but dove back into his coat. She landed against his chest with a little sigh. He buttoned her in.
“I forget you’re so strong.”
“You’d best remember that next time you feel like getting sassy.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Just a little friendly warning.”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a smile in her voice. He looked down. Her green eyes were shadowed. Impenetrable. “You got something to say?”
“You’re not going to provoke me,” she informed him.
“Who says I was trying?”
“I do, but—” She wiggled a hand up between them and touched the corner of his mouth. “This crease right here tells me you’re smiling, which means you’re not serious.”
He resisted the urge to nip her finger. “Can’t rightly see the sense of a man provoking his wife for no good reason.”
“I know.” She shook her head. Her gaze dropped from his. “It doesn’t make sense, which is why I’ve been trying to figure out the why of it.”
“Could be you think too much and there’s nothing more to it than I’m the ornery sort.”
Another snort, this time stronger, indicated she wasn’t buying that line. The finger she wagged under his chin stirred a little breeze. “I will figure you out.”
“That a threat?”
Her hand retreated into the warm cocoon of his coat. “No,” she sounded content. “More of a warning.”
He smiled. The woman did like a challenge. “I’ll take note.”
He wrapped the reigns around the saddle horn. Elizabeth looked at him askance as he slid his hands inside the side slits of the duster.
“My hands are cold,” he explained.
His fingers climbed the ladder of buttons on the front of her shirt. When he reached the top, he started working backward, slipping buttons from their holes as he went.
“And my cock is hard,” he added as he undid the fifth one.
She didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if she was horrified or intrigued until he felt her little hands working the buttons on his fly.
“We can’t have that,” she murmured as she freed him from his pants.
Her hard nipples grazed the side of his hand as he spread her shirt. She gasped at the slight contact.
“Sore?” he asked, rubbing them with his thumbs through her camisole.
She shook her head. “Sensitive.”
“How sensitive?” He scraped one with his thumbnail. She jerked against him, her grip on his cock tightening to near pain. The move left her listing slightly to one side. He repeated the move on the other nipple, purely in the interest of straightening her up.
“Very, very sensitive,” she gasped as she lurched against him.
He noticed she didn’t pull away.
“Good.” He bent down until his lips rested near her ear. “And how about your pussy? Is that sensitive too?”
She pressed her head against his chest. Her answer was just a breath of sound.
“Yes.”
“I came in you twice today. Buried my cock deep in your sweet pussy and pumped you full of my seed.”
“I could feel it.”
“When?”
“All day.”
“Did you stay wet?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
This time, there was a pause. “Yes and no.”
He squeezed her nipples, keeping the pressure steady, knowing she liked it, from the way she threw her head back and pumped his cock. “Explain.”
“I liked the way I felt, knowing what we’d done, but every time it leaked out…”
He pinched sharply. “It?”
She squirmed and gasped, “Your seed. Every time your seed leaked out, I would ache.”
“Where?”
She hesitated and he pinched again. “My clit. My clit would ache.”
“You wanted me to fuck you again.”
“Yes.”
He began the milking motion she liked, drawing her nipple up and out before sliding back to start anew.
“You wanted my cock coming hard and high in your pussy, and you couldn’t have what you wanted because we were in public.”
She ground her forehead against his chest while her hands frantically jacked off his cock. “Yes.”
He released her nipples, ignoring her moue of protest. “I’ll have to check this out.”
He gathered her skirt up around her waist. Her pantaloons were in the way, so he simply grabbed and tore. The cotton ripped in two. He angled his hand so his fingers could graze the top of her pussy.
“No lie, your little clit is all hard and hungry. Wet.”
He traced the throbbing head with his finger, gathering the moisture there. He brought his hand up in front of her face. “Is this my come that’s got you all excited?”
She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know.”
“Open your mouth.”
She did, taking his finger inside, licking it clean.
“Well?”
“Yes. That’s your come.”
“Do you want more?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In my pussy. Please.”
“How much?”
“Until I can’t take anymore.”
He smiled. “Good answer.” He moved his hand to the small of her back. “Tilt back and put your legs around my waist.”
Shock had her gaze flying to his. “On horseback?”
“Oh, yeah”
She teetered as she got her legs around his hips. He caught a hand under her left hip and held her steady.
“You’re going to have to get used to that. “
“What?”
“No control.” He sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttock.
“Why?” She didn’t look upset by the possibility. Just curious.
“Because for the next hour, you’re not going to have any.” He lifted her hips, and aligned his cock with the opening to her pussy. He let her drop, catching her hands in his to prevent her mitigating his possession. Her flesh grabbed and pulled at his cock as he forged a path deep into her hot pussy.
She groaned and threw her head back. Her torso jerked. Her teeth sank into her lip. Her pussy accepted another inch. He pulled her hands behind her back, anchoring them with one of his as he kneed Shameless into a trot.
Shameless had a canter as smooth as butter, but his trot could jar the teeth from his rider. A fact Asa intended to take full advantage of.
The first lurch had Elizabeth landing against his chest. Her eyes flew wide on the second as she bounced on his cock, and he slammed home. Her small scream was a mixture of high pleasure and uncertainty.
“That’s right,” he groaned as her pussy grabbed at his cock, the muscles clenching and releasing as they struggled to adjust. Another jarring step and she bounced up, the dragging pull of her tissues along his sensitive length as she was wrenched off the thick stalk of his cock had a firestorm of sensation burning through his groin. When she sheathed him again, coming down hard on his thighs, it was only a minor relief. He needed more. On Shamless’ next step, he lifted her with the motion of the horse, and then released her. She came down hard, his cock driving up into her wet flesh in a ruthless pursuit of pleasure. His groan covered her gasp as her pussy slammed against his thighs.
Her gaze flew to his as he arched his hips up to press higher, deeper. Understanding showed in her eyes as the base of his cock spread her impossibly wide. “You’ll ride my cock as I ride Shameless. We’re not going to stop until I’ve come twice. Maybe more. And you’re going to take every inch I give you, no matter how hard, no matter how deep.”
“God, yes!” she sighed, tightening her thighs around his hips.
He tightened his knees on Shameless, picking up his pace. At the same time, he tightened his spine, fighting Shameless’ movement rather than flowing with it. Elizabeth bounced like a rag doll in his lap, her pleasured moans a continuous accompaniment to the wet slap of their bodies slamming together. She was tight, her grip on his cock merciless, the rhythm set by Shameless, erratic and furious, and the resulting friction created a mindless need for completion. He came within minutes, wedged to the hilt in her grasping channel.
He pulled Shameless to a stop and pumped her full. His fingers clenched on her buttocks, pulling her harder against him, his hips jerking under her as spurt after spurt of his seed boiled out of his balls to fill her hungry cunt. Her head fell against his chest. With each splash of come in her pussy, she moaned, her inner muscles clenched, and she twisted against his restraining grip. Come spilled out from between her thighs, seeping through his denims. Her hips rocked on his. Her pleas for release bled into what had been mindless gasps. She struggled to get her hands free, but he shook his head.
“Oh no.” He kneed Shameless back into a walk. “You get off like this or you don’t get off at all.”
“Please Asa. I need…”
He knew what she needed. She wanted his teeth on her breasts, her clit, because she thought that was the only way she could find pleasure. By the end of this ride, she’d find out differently.
“All you need is my cock in your pussy.”
He kicked Shameless. The horse surged forward, throwing Elizabeth forward and back. Caught off guard, she didn’t have time to tighten her thighs. Her pubic bone slammed against his as she took so much of him, he thought she’d swallowed his balls. Her scream was one of relief and then frustration as Shameless set into his bone jarring, erratic trot.
He didn’t plan to offer her relief. He was still hard, and this was a long time fantasy with him. He stiffened his body again and enjoyed the hot glide of her pussy up and down his cock for the next two miles. Elizabeth’s face was red and sweating. Her eyes wild as she fought his hold. He knew she loved the bite of pain with her pleasure, that it set her off. He knew the pounding her pussy was taking had her on the edge, but she needed something more to get off. He could feel another orgasm building. She held him too tightly for him to last forever. He decided to take pity on her.
He slid his free hand under her hips. Her juices spilled over his hand, moistening it. As she bounced up, he aligned his thumb with her anus and pressed. Her eyes flew wide as the muscles began to give. If she could, he knew she would have fought the strangeness of the invasion, but he didn’t give her the opportunity. As her body came down, as his cock speared through her hungry pussy, he pushed hard. His thumb popped through the tight ring into the silken depths of her ass.
“Oh! Oh!” she gasped, her eyes flew wide with distress, shock. Her thighs clenched on his waist. Her hips twisted. He pulled her down, not letting her dislodge him from that sweet, dark channel. He kept his thumb buried as she bounced up again, letting her get used to the feel, for her muscles to adjust to his width.
He could feel his cock driving into her vagina as she rode Shameless’ rhythm. He imagined he could see his thumb possessing her ass. He leaned back, silently ordering Shameless to stop. Willoughby pulled up alongside, with a snort and a shake of his head.
“Okay?” Asa asked as Elizabeth came to a shuddering rest against his chest.
Her nod was frantic. Her fingers dug so deeply into his side, he could feel her nails bite into his skin through his shirt. She squirmed on his cock and finger. He stroked the smooth length of his cock through the tightly stretched membrane separating her ass from her vagina. Her moan echoed his. God, she was perfect.
“I’m going to have Shameless trot again, and I want you to keep your ass loose and ready,” he whispered darkly in her ear, his voice reduced to a hoarse growl with the effort it took to speak through the lust tearing at his control, “because every time you come down, I’m going to be stuffing your ass as full as I can.”
He paused to nibble on the side of her neck. He pulled his thumb almost free, pressing against his shaft through the membrane as he did, pushing it back in, feeling her pussy writhe and his cock throb as his calluses dragged against her tender inner flesh. “Do you understand?” She tilted her head to the side, facilitating his caress. “Yes. Oh yes.”
“Good.” With a click of his tongue, he urged Shameless forward.
He came twice more before finally drawing Shameless to a stop. He’d lost count how many times Elizabeth had come. Once she’d started, she hadn’t seemed able to stop. The pulses of her last orgasm were still shuddering through her body, and her anus was clenching on his thumb as he tried to pull free.
Her protest was immediate. “Not yet. Please. Not yet.”
“You want a little longer?” he asked against the top of her head.
“Please.”
He slid his thumb almost all the way out, and then slowly pushed back. Her pussy clenched around his softening cock, massaging it gently as he fucked her ass with his thumb.
“Like that?”
She shuddered and pushed down. “Yes. Perfect.”
He made a mental note of her enjoyment as he fucked her gently, bringing her down slowly. Her climax, when it came, was easy and sweet. When it was over, he slid his thumb from her ass and eased her off his softening cock.
She sagged against him breathlessly. Boneless and replete. She didn’t even protest when he unbuttoned his duster to lift and seat her crosswise over his lap. As he buttoned her back in, he felt her hands at his fly, returning the favor. Her task was complicated by material that was damp from their combined releases.
When she finished his pants, she worked on the front of her shirt, relying on his strength to keep her in the saddle, she asked, “Do you think Cougar will be happy with that Emily Carmichael?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know either of them, so I couldn’t say.”
She resettled her cheek in the wake of his movement. “I hope so.”
“You used to be sweet on this Cougar fella?”
“He’s a very decent man.”
When he thought of a decent man, Asa pictured someone harmless enough not to have options. Cougar McKinnely had the look of his namesake. Savage. Unpredictable. Dangerous. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“When I was sixteen, I thought he was my hero.”
“Sixteen, huh? How old was he?”
“Nineteen.”
He refused to acknowledge the slight clutch in his stomach as jealousy. “What happened to change your mind?”
“I grew up and realized life doesn’t allow heroes.”
“He didn’t live up to your expectations?” Not surprising for a nineteen-year-old faced with the worship of a sixteen-year-old.
“He almost died for trying.” She seemed willing to let the conversation end there.
“Whoa, darlin’!” He tipped her chin away from the haven of his chest. Her expression was stubborn. Her lips pursed mutinously. “You can’t just drop things there.”
“Why not?”
“Because it sounds like I owe McKinnely.”
“It happened long before I met you.”
“You’re still my wife.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He could be as stubborn as she. “I do.”
She folded her arms across her chest and pressed her lips so tightly together, they all but disappeared.
Shameless tripped in a hole, jerking them a bit. As rigidly as Elizabeth was sitting, she almost popped off. Lucky for her, he had quick reflexes. “Got ya.”
“I never had any doubt.” She probably hadn’t as she hadn’t made a move to save herself.
That bit of trust went a long way to soothing his irritation. “You really going to leave me hanging like that?”
“There’s no need to go into something that happened long ago.”
Apparently she thought so, but there was more than one way to skin a cat. “I guess if you’re so set against finishing the story, I’ll be dropping the subject.”
Her “thank you” was carefully controlled, telling him she had a lot of emotions packed into it. Probably thought her secret was safe. He felt like smiling but didn’t. The woman really had to spend more time studying his nature rather than assuming she knew him, ‘cause sure enough, he wasn’t letting this go. He was just going to change his angle of attack. McKinnely probably wouldn’t be as tightlipped. He’d just ask him.
They rode in silence for awhile. Though he had his wife in his arms, Asa felt her withdrawal like a windstorm from the north. He’d always dreamed marriage would be an end to being alone, but he was discovering it wasn’t a cure for loneliness. Just the opposite. It could, he decided on a sigh, serve to point out how far a desperate man could grasp.
Elizabeth broke the silence. “Millicent said Emily wanted no part of Cougar.”
Apparently, they were back to the original subject. That strange knot took root in his stomach again. “Uh-huh.”
He felt her cheek working against his chest. He wondered if she were biting her lip. Through the gloom, he could see the ranch house.
“She said it was obvious because Emily pulled away every time he touched her.”
“Uh-huh.” He put as much boredom as he could into the phrase. He didn’t want to hear how wonderful McKinnely was.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
She didn’t? Despite his urge to avoid talking about good-looking-once-a-hero McKinnely, he had to hear this one. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“You don’t think a woman scooting a man’s touch is a sign she’s not too sweet on him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Her shoulder pushed into his stomach as she took a deep breath. Had she been facing him, she would have blown him over when she let it out. “Because I used to pull away from you.”
It took him a minute to recover from the shock of dragging this particular subject into the open. He finally found his voice. “Not anymore.”
“It’s a fact I’m not proud of.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Yes. It does.”
“You ever hear a wife shouldn’t disagree with her husband?”
“Yes.”
“So why are you disagreeing with me?”
“Because I think you like it.”
“I’d have to be a perverse S.O.B to like arguing.”
Shameless picked up his pace. Asa guessed he decided they were close enough to home to push the rules. Apparently, Elizabeth did, too, because she said, “But you do.”
He smiled. She was hanging in there despite the nervousness betrayed by her voice. “Why is that do you think?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“But you’ve decided to humor me?”
“Not exactly.”
Her spine was stiffening up. As a result, she wasn’t moving with the horse, but more like bouncing on it. He waited. Three bounces later, he was rewarded.
“I’ve decided to use it,” she admitted.
“Anything in that fancy school say that’s a bit underhanded?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not feeling guilty?”
“No. I’m being honest.” She took a breath, and he could tell she’d been thinking on this for awhile. “If I tell you, then it’s not trickery.”
“Some might call that hair-splitting,” he pointed out, not really minding.
“But not you?”
She sounded so hopeful, he didn’t have the heart to tease her. “No. I guess I can live with fair warning as long as you answer me one question.”
“What’s the question?”
“Why?”
“I’m not happy with our marriage.”
If Shameless hadn’t pulled up short in front of the hitching post, he probably would have jerked him to a halt. She’d blindsided him. He hadn’t seen it coming anymore than he’d anticipated the hurt. He kept his voice calm. “You’re not happy with our marriage, so you’re going to argue with me to improve it?”
He must not have been successful in covering his irritation because the hands that had been folded in her lap were stroking his forearm as if to soothe him. “Sort of.”
He tipped up her chin, but beyond a blush to her cheeks, her expression gave nothing away. He shook his head. “You’re going to have to explain that one, ‘cause, sure enough, you lost me in the twists and turns.”
Her chin butted his finger, but he didn’t heed the silent demand. Given no other option, she evaded his searching gaze by lowering her lids. “I can’t.”
He pondered a minute. The whole conversation had started out with the way Emily evaded Cougar’s touch, and how Elizabeth didn’t feel that was a sign that a woman didn’t like the touch of a man. Shameless snorted and stomped his foot. Willoughby echoed the impatient sound. Asa ignored both. “Are you saying you don’t dislike my touch?”
He might not have been successful in hiding his astonishment. Her whole body winced at his shout. “Lower your voice!”
“Well,” he asked, keeping his voice down, “are you?”
“It’s hard to say.”
“I think we’d better go into the house and discuss this.”
“No!”
“You want to sit out here in the cold when there’s a perfectly warm house a few feet away?”
“Please. Just let me say this before I lose my—”
He leaned back in the saddle. “Never let it be said I’d interrupt a lady.”
Her “You just did” was a muttered aside. For once, he didn’t feel like smiling when the real Elizabeth snuck past her prim disguise.
“I’m not used to being touched. My father wasn’t very…demonstrative that way.” She cut him a quick glance from under her lashes. “You touch me a lot.”
He shrugged. “You feel good.”
“I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just not comfortable with it.”
“You seemed damned comfortable a few minutes ago.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She took an audible breath. “The truth is, I’m afraid of how much I like it when you touch me!” she confessed in a breathless rush.
The blurted-out truth hung between them. The knot in his stomach that had been there since she’d mentioned McKinnely and her dissatisfaction with their marriage started to loosen. “Why?”
“You’ll stop and I’ll be used to it.”
And she didn’t want to be hurt. That he understood. “Why would I stop?”
“When I disappoint you, you’ll stop.”
“You know, I’m getting darned tired of everyone telling me what I’m going to do and not do.”
“I wouldn’t presume!”
“Like hell!” He reached for the buttons of the coat holding them together. Who did she think she was kidding? “First, you decided I’d sell my soul for a ranch. Then you decided I needed to be tricked into finishing a marriage. Then you decided I was a cheating sort.” His anger built as each button of the coat popped open. “Next, you assumed I had no control over my needs and you had to bargain against cheating, and now, you’ve come up with the fact that I’m tricking you every time I act less than a monster?” He swung out of the saddle. “Well, I’m tired of being insulted.”
“I didn’t mean—”
He placed her on the ground and pointed her to the house. “You never do, but every time you get thinking, I get insulted, and I’m damned tired of it.”
She ignored his push and turned around. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to settle Shameless and Willoughby for the night.”
She bit her lip. Her expression was barely discernible through the light. “Are you coming up to the house?”
“Where else would I go?” He pulled the horses around. “We have a deal remember?”
“Would you let me explain?”
“I don’t think my sensibilities can take another of your explanations.”
He turned and headed for the barn, seething inside. He’d done nothing but treat the woman with respect, and she persisted in seeing him as vermin. It wasn’t going to change, and he’d best get it through his thick skull, because, dammit, it was beginning to hurt. He could feel her eyes watching him as he entered the barn. Without turning around, he closed the door.
Elizabeth stared at the closed door until a voice from the shadowed end of the porch spun her around.
“He’s right, girl.” There was the creak of the swing, and then two disjointed steps before Old Sam stepped into the light. “You’ve been trying to slip that man into a crevice since he got here.”
“I don’t understand him,” she burst out.
“You probably would if you’d just see he isn’t your Pa.”
“I don’t think he is.”
“If that’s the case, why are you expecting him to change into something else?”
“I’m not.”
Old Sam spat over the side rail. “And I was born yesterday. Ever since your Dad changed after your Mama died, you’ve had this fear of men. Like everything good inside one is just fool’s gold.”
“That’s not true!”
“If it’s not, then you’d better start thinking before you open your mouth.” He came up bedside her, and, for the first time in sixteen years, there wasn’t any sympathy in his faded blue eyes. “‘Cause that’s the picture you’re painting.”
“I’m not…” But she couldn’t finish the denial.
Old Sam laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “It’s time to grow up, Elizabeth.”
“I’m scared,” she confessed on a whisper.
He snorted impatience as his hand dropped away. “Who isn’t?”
“What if I tell him and he doesn’t care?”
“What if ya don’t and he does?”
She had no response for that.
“You can make a choice by not opening your mouth as easily as you can by speaking your mind, girl.”
“I know.”
“Then prove it.” He pointed to the barn. “Talk to that man.”
“I will.”
She mustn’t have been too convincing, because Old Sam stared for a long silent moment, his expression as murky as the twilight gloom. His mouth worked. She couldn’t tell if he was chewing or working up to a lecture, but then he sighed, slapped his thigh and said, “If it’ll help, I’ll tell ya I didn’t ever think your Pa had it in him to shoot your Ma. He loved her too much for that.”
She wished she could be so sure. “Thank you.”
He shuffled his feet before settling his weight into his boots and meeting her gaze square on. “I always thought that, if the two of them hadn’t been so dead miserly on protecting their hearts, they might have made a happy marriage.”
That was something she’d never heard before. “I don’t understand.”
“Your Pa ever talk to you after your Mama died?”
“About her?”
“About anything beyond ranching?”
“No.”
“Well, he wasn’t any more chatty before, and assuming your mother knew how he felt, didn’t do much to get ‘em across misunderstandings.”
Elizabeth stared at Old Sam as the truth sunk in. She remembered her mother with her smiles and laughter. She remembered her father with his stern face and total control. “Oh God!”
“You got a choice to make, girl.”
“I don’t want to be my father,” she whispered.
Old Sam slapped his thigh and started to walk away. Three steps into his departure, he stopped and turned around. “Then I guess you’d best be making a new choice.”
* * * * *
From the way the door slammed, Elizabeth was pretty sure that Asa hadn’t calmed down. She sat in her bedroom and fiddled with the lace-edged collar on her nightdress. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. She’d been trying to tell him she’d wanted him to do more than just lie beside her in bed, but how was she going to approach the subject now? The man was convinced everything she did was a scheme to trick him.
Which was really unfair. He was the one always hiding behind words and silence, making her work to understand him. Teasing her when she did, laughing when she didn’t.
His booted footsteps on the stairs cut off her budding anger. With each creak, her breath grew shorter until she stopped breathing entirely when the steps paused outside their door. Air rushed into her lungs on a furious gasp when he moved down the hall without even calling a good night. She heard the door on her father’s bedroom open and close. There was the sound of water being poured in the wash basin, a fire being built, the creak of bedsprings, and then nothing. The quiet progressed for ten minutes before she admitted he wasn’t coming to bed in their room. Which meant any moves were up to her.
She pulled the covers over her bent legs, rested her chin on the plateau of her knees and slowly let the anger build. How dare he cut her off, accuse her of unladylike behavior, and then proceed to break his word by sleeping in another room. So maybe she wasn’t the best at getting out what she wanted to say, at least she was trying. The least he could do was shut up and listen.
She threw the goose down comforter off. She reached for her robe and then left it hanging. The distance to the door had never been spanned so quickly. She made it to the guest bedroom before she understood the reality of her plan. When his door hit the wall under the force of her shove and she was face-to-face with his bare-chested specter in the big four-poster, she started thinking. Unfortunately, it was too late for prudence. Taking her courage in hand, she proceeded.
“I’ll allow that I’ve been a bit hasty in some of my assumptions.” She kept her gaze on his forehead because the sight of all that lightly-furred muscle was unsettling. “But you have no right to berate me for it when you’re part of the cause.”
His arms folded across his chest. “You saying all this is my fault?”
A log crackled in the fireplace. She took a breath to keep her focus and picked up the challenge he’d thrown down. “Yes.”
“You’ve got nerve, darlin’. I’ll give you that.”
“Yes, I do, and I’m probably using the last of it right now.” His right eyebrow shot up, but he didn’t offer any further sarcasm, so she plunged on. “I wasn’t accusing you of tricking me. I was trying to explain that…that…” God, this was so humiliating to admit. She finally managed in a cold rush of honesty. “I’m not used to anyone being nice to me. I don’t know how to react.”
“Surely that school taught you the value of a ‘thank you’.”
She shifted her gaze to the window. Her own reflection stared back at her, a ghostly shadow of white whose only distinguishing feature was the shadowed impression of her eyes. At this moment, she felt as substantial as that reflection. She bit her lip and pressed on. She’d say her piece and put this behind her. However it played out, she’d build her marriage on the remnants. “It’s not easy to forget the way I was raised.”
He looked impossibly big and stubborn propped up in the bed. He didn’t sound the least patient or understanding when he said, “No one’s asking you to.”
But he was. With every act of kindness, he was. She couldn’t put that into words, though. His gaze, when he looked at her, had a measure of respect. It wouldn’t, though, if she told him everything. It wouldn’t, but she couldn’t live this lie anymore. She licked her dry lips and continued, “My father was very strict.”
“I gathered that.”
She licked her lips again, but she didn’t have enough spit left to moisten them. “He had very rigid rules.” Nausea churned with the memory.
“Seems like everyone around here had rules from what I can see. Leastwise, they felt like they had a right to boss you around.”
“Yes, well, my father was the strictest.”
“Most fathers are.”
An involuntary shiver shook her. “Mine more than most. I failed him quite regularly.” The cold from the floor seeped into her feet. She shivered again. She closed her eyes against the impatience in Asa’s gaze. “I know it sounds like I’m making excuses. I’m not.” She put the lamp on the table. He was never going to look at her with respect again. “He wanted a son.”
“A lot of men do. They make do with daughters.”
“When I turned out to be his only child, my father decided to teach me what was necessary to keep the ranch. I wasn’t very good at it.”
His “of course not” struck her in the heart. She’d been hoping he’d see her as more than she was. Sheer force of will kept her head up. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her night rail. “I failed him repeatedly. I tried, but I just couldn’t be as good as he needed.” She swallowed, wishing she dared to look at him. Another two buttons came undone. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life failing you.”
“Darlin’, I’m sure you weren’t a disappointment to your Pa. Little girls are special to their fathers.”
Tears stung her eyes. She turned around and let the night rail drop to her waist.
His curses were harsh. Angry. She kept her head up and her back straight. She knew what he was seeing. The three white scars crossing her back. Marks of failure. Marks no father would put on a child he was proud of. Marks she’d earned with her impulsive nature. The swearing behind her stopped. The silence was oppressive. The bed ropes creaked. A log popped and hissed in the fire. She couldn’t stand the tension anymore.
“I didn’t do my father proud.” She took a breath, counted to three and then explained, “I don’t want to fail you, too. I just don’t know what you want, how I’m supposed to act. You seem happy when I’m arguing, but I don’t think I can argue with you all the time…”
The feel of cotton rising up her back silenced her words. She hadn’t heard him move, but he was behind her. His hands on her shoulders turned her around.
“Why?”
One grated word and she had to bare all, exposing her weakness, her foolishness, maybe forever ruining his opinion of her. Her gaze was level with the center of his chest. She held onto her dignity by counting the hairs as she explained, “I told you I knew Cougar.”
“Yeah.”
Was that suspicion she heard in his voice? “I got kicked by a calf in the face during branding. It was hard to eat. Cougar brought me soup.”
His silence was deafening. She finished the bottom row of hair. Twenty-five.
“He was very nice. Kind.” She kept her gaze on his chest, almost desperately counting. Her fingers clenched to fists. At fifty, she had to resume speech. Oh God. “I let him kiss me.” She held her breath and waited for the outrage, the disbelief.
“And?”
Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven.
“My Father saw. He was furious.”
“Over a kiss?”
Oh, yes. Over a kiss. She remembered her father’s face. His rage. Her terror when he’d turned into someone else. Turned on her.
“He called Cougar a dirty Indian. Called me a fool for throwing myself away on him.”
No response. Not by a twitch of a muscle did Asa give his thoughts away.
Eighty. Eighty-one. Eighty-two.
“He said I couldn’t be trusted.”
Finally, he moved. His hands slid down her shoulders. In an agony of hope, she waited for him to catch her hands in his. To offer her one sign of comfort. Of trust. While their fingers brushed, he didn’t take her hand, didn’t tell her it didn’t matter, and he didn’t say the words she’d so pathetically hoped for. She had no option but to confess the last. “He sent me away.”
God! How could that still hurt?
“Damn!”
Asa’s harshly spat word shattered her concentration. She was either at one-hundred-and-one or one-hundred-and-ten, but what did it matter? The anger in that one word told her what he was thinking. If it had been just a kiss, why would her father have sent her away? She knew because, for every day of the four years she’d spent at Miss Penelope’s, she’d been reminded of what crime she’d been making up for. It didn’t matter how many times she’d protested her innocence. Or to whom. The doubt was always there. There was no reason to expect Asa to react any differently.
She wanted to whither into a defeated ball at the realization. Instead, she cleared her throat and locked her gaze on the bunched muscles in his cheek. She needed to finish this. She needed to tell him the truth. Whether he believed her or not, she had to try.
“I swear it was only a kiss, and I never, ever let anyone kiss me again.”
The declaration hung for a breathless moment in the silence.
Asa was the one to bring an end to the standoff between them. But he didn’t use the words she hungered for. Instead, with a move too slow to be startling, he reached for her. So desperately attuned to his response, she swore she could feel the slight breeze ruffling her gown as he did. Her night rail rustled and shifted against her body as he did up the buttons at her waist. His knuckles brushed her breast impersonally as he fastened the buttons over her chest. Slow and deliberate, there was no way she could interpret his gesture as anything but disinterest. The realization was like a knife wound to her soul.
“Now you don’t even want me anymore.” It was a simple statement of the inevitable.
He stopped, the backs of his hands resting on her collarbones. “Why do you say that?”
It was a logical question. She made her response just as rational. “If any other woman was standing here half-naked, you wouldn’t be putting her back into her clothes.”
No. Asa decided. He’d be riding out to kill the son of a bitch who’d put the marks on her back, but he couldn’t put her father in the ground twice. “I’m sorry. Seeing that my wife has been savagely beaten has a way of taking the starch out of me.” The skin beneath his hands was icy and riddled with goose bumps. “You’re cold.”
“I didn’t wear my robe.”
“You’d best come to bed, then, so we can warm you up.”
He scooped her into his arms. She was still stiff as a board, but she wasn’t fighting. He looked at the four-poster. “Was this your father’s room?”
“Yes.”
He spun on his heel and headed out the door. Once in the hall, he kicked open the door to her room. He placed her on the bed. While she stared at him with those big green eyes, he pulled the comforter over her shoulders and struggled with his anger. Lord, he’d suspected her father had been mean, but he’d never suspected this. He scooted her over with a push of his hip.
“You’re naked!” she exclaimed as he slid under the covers beside her.
“Uh-huh.” He guessed that would be a bit of a shock since he’d always been careful to wear his long johns when they’d been ‘courting’. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with you tonight, so I wasn’t worried about sparing your sensibilities.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you I wanted you to touch me, but that I didn’t know if I could handle it.”
“All this fighting because you wanted me to touch you?”
“I thought it would make you happy,” she admitted.
“And that’s why you decided to do it?” He slid his arm under her neck, preventing her from falling off the bed. With a curl of his forearm, he had her turned into his side.
“No.”
He waited, adjusting the covers over her shoulder. He flexed his toes to get some warmth back in them. If the floors were any indication, winter was coming early this year.
“I thought things could be normal between us,” she said softly.
“Can’t get more normal than two folks sleeping together.”
“I want babies.”
He smiled. “Then again, I guess you can.”
“You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.” The amount of pride packed into that statement would have done a cavalry unit proud.
“I like being nice to you.” He shifted her elbow out of his rib cage. “I told you when you proposed I had a liking for touching ladies tenderly.”
“I thought you were talking about…” She waved her hand descriptively.
“You thought I was talking about between the sheets,” he clarified. “Gotta admit, I have a penchant for that, too.” He felt her blush heating her chest on its way to her face.
His grin widened as he went on, “Thing is, I flat out like having a wife to spoil. I’m enjoying being married.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. He took the opportunity to get to the meat of the matter. He tipped up her chin so she’d know he wasn’t lying. “I know what it’s like to be beaten, Elizabeth. Don’t you ever think I don’t know how ashamed you feel. A shame that goes bone deep when it’s someone you love doing the beating. My ma used to whip me daily to drive the devil out.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“You ever get the urge to look, you’ll find marks on me, too. Probably not as much as you’re thinking as I grew big fast and could put an end to it, but it’s not something I’m proud of or likely to forget.”
“I didn’t realize…”
“No reason you should. It happened a long time ago.”
A hairpin jabbed his thumb as he slid his hand over her hair. He pulled it out, then went in search of more. “Thing is, when I was little, I could never figure out how I had the devil in me when she was the one sinning daily. I used to check the mirror for some sign that everyone else could see and I couldn’t.” By the time he had the sixth pin free, her hair began to uncoil. With a few passes of his fingers, he aided its surge for freedom. He shrugged and continued. “I could never find it, though.”
“What?”
“The mark that made them call me devil’s spawn.”
“You were just a little boy!”
He carefully slid his arm from under her and propped himself on his elbow so he could see her face. “And you were just a little girl who couldn’t help it anymore than I could. The only difference between us is I stopped searching for the reason.”
“It’s not right—”
He cut her off by sliding his hand down her hips and pulling her legs against his. “Right or wrong has nothing to do with it. It’s just the way it happened.”
“I know—”
He put his fingers over her lips. He didn’t want to rehash the past. Not when he had her in bed with him and in an accommodating mood, her soul bare, her defenses down. “I think the best thing for us to do is forget what we ‘know’ about the other and start fresh.”
She yawned against his chest. “Maybe after I’ve had a nap?”
He stroked her hair, smoothing it back from her brow. “Tired?”
She snuggled into his neck. “Yes.”
He suppressed a yawn of his own. He slid his hand over her waist and up the curve of her hip. She seemed to blend into his touch. As natural as breathing, his palm curved over the globe of her ass. She shivered, and it wasn’t from cold.
He dipped his fingers into the crease and lightly traced her anus. “Did you like it when I took you here?”
A slight tension stiffened her muscles. “It felt strange at first.”
“And then?”
She didn’t answer.
He kissed her temple. “Did you like it later?”
“Yes.”
He hugged her and moved his hand back to her ass cheek. “I’m glad.”
The tension left her muscles. He wondered if she’d thought he would think her enjoyment was improper. He yawned again. “I hope you don’t think less of me, Mrs. MacIntyre, but I’m about played out.”
She stroked his chest comfortingly. “Me, too.”
He reached down and pulled the covers over their bodies. “Then cuddle up here, darlin’, and we’ll get some sleep.”
She was out before he finished talking. With one last stoke of her hair, he closed his eyes and joined her.