Big Sky Rancher (14 page)

She felt the pressure of his arousal against her, knew a moment of terror that forced from her a soft cry. “Don't hurt me, Lucas. Please.”

He shook his head and she hoped that he was agreeing to her plea, that his touch would not be piercing, his invasion of
her body would not bring her a pain she could not tolerate. “Relax, Jen. Let me…”

The request was lost in a sensation of being torn asunder, and yet it was less than the pain she had feared, for it was more a filling of her very self by the man who held her, who possessed her body with the proof of his manhood. The man who had claimed her as his wife.

L
UCAS OPENED HIS EYES
slowly, not wanting to interrupt the dream he'd been involved in, and found, to his surprise, that the major part of that dream was in his arms. She slept cradled against him, and his lips curved in remembrance as he recognized his dream as reality.

She'd been all he'd ever imagined, even as unwilling as she had been to begin with. He'd been afraid for a few minutes that his methods had been too primitive, his treatment of her too harsh. But her response had tossed both of those theories to the wind and he'd basked in her response, recognizing her surrender as she found completion in his embrace.

She was his. Finally and thoroughly. No more dithering around like a lusty youth. He'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime. Being a husband was what suited him best, and given Jennifer's final sigh of exhaustion last night, it seemed to be what lay in his future.

She was his wife, the marriage consummated and well on track. And if he played his cards right, he might even find her willing to surrender once more before they arose from this bed to face the day. Even as his thoughts touched on that idea, he felt her stir beside him, her sigh signaling an imminent awakening.

She slid one hand across his chest and her fingers twined
in the hair she encountered there. A sound much like a soft growl came from her lips and she bent forward, eyes still closed and placed a soft kiss at the base of his throat.

Lucas stilled, unwilling to disturb her exploration, yet hardly able to control the enthusiastic response of his arousal as she opened her lips against his cheek. He turned his head, just a little, enabling her to press her mouth against his, and she did just that. With a degree of enthusiasm he hadn't expected, her lips grew soft and then opened beneath his, suckling at his lower lip and then seeking out the whiskered skin of his cheek once more.

“You need to shave.” The words were rasping, her early morning voice husky and inviting.

“Later.” He wasn't about to disturb the mood, not when Jennifer seemed so ready to fall in with his hastily made plans. His hands ran the length of her back and she squirmed against him, wiggling closer as if she welcomed the firm proof of his arousal against her belly.

“You're all whiskery.” She sounded as if a pout were forming and he looked down at lush lips that were indeed pooched out in blatant invitation. Not one to ignore such a thing, he kissed her, this time making it more of a seduction, losing himself in her soft embrace as she pressed closer, lifting her leg across his thigh and allowing him the access he needed.

He slid his hand down to creep between their bodies, his hand cupping her warmth, his long fingers pressing for entrance, there where she was hot and damp.

“Lucas?” Her voice spoke his name and her eyes opened, wide and startled, as she awoke. “What are you doing?”

“Loving you.” He thought it an appropriate answer, given their new status. But Jennifer seemed dubious.

“It's morning Lucas. The sun is shining and Mrs. Bronson
will be up. If fact, I'm surprised that Susan hasn't woken yet She'll be hungry.”

“Ida can look after her for a few minutes,” he murmured against her ear. “We can just cuddle a bit before we get up.”

“Cuddle? Is that what you call this?” As if she had only become aware of the caressing hand that had possessed her feminine parts, she moved her leg, but he pressed more firmly, keeping her captive where she lay.

“Hush, Jen. Just let me do this. Please.”

It seemed she would not resist, for the moan that was muffled against his throat was not one of pain or distress. Rather, it sounded to him like that of a woman well on her way to pleasure. She wiggled against his touch, breathing deeply, her arm moving to grip his shoulder, then her fingers found purchase at the nape of his neck and she moaned again.

“You're my wife, Jen. You've made me a happy man, sweetheart.” His voice was hoarse as he felt the urge to press deep within her. Rolling to his back, he brought her atop him, and as her legs fell to either side of his hips, he lifted just a bit and his manhood sought and found the entrance that seemed made for his possession.

She winced just a bit and he halted, halfway home, but unwilling to hurt her.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Um…yes. I think so. Just a little sore.” She shifted a bit as if she would ease his way and her face dropped to rest against his shoulder. “Can you do it this way?”

His answer was designed to set her mind at ease. “You'd be surprised at how many ways we can do this, Jen. I'll show you all of them one day. Or night.”

“But not now, Lucas. Right now, I'm hurting just a little.”

“Let me help,” he whispered, lifting her a bit, insinuating his hand against her, touching the places he knew would bring her pleasure. She allowed it in fact, much to his surprise, she accommodated him without hesitation—and in less than a minute, her cry of completion sounded in his ear.

He pushed deeper and she did not cringe or resist. “All right?” he asked, hoping against hope she would not deny him this.

“All right.” It was a whisper, but it was all the encouragement he needed. Satisfaction such as he'd never known sizzled through his veins, plunging him into an abyss of pure joy, and he clasped her closer, as if he would blend their bodies in such a way that nothing could ever change the happiness he'd found in this bed.

 

S
URELY THIS WAS
about as unladylike a position as anyone had ever been subjected to, Jennifer thought. She was at once embarrassed and just a bit feeling put upon. Lucas had made of her a hussy, pure and simple. And she didn't like the feeling of shame that swept over her.

She'd expected one day to submit to him and his lusty nature. Never had she imagined herself participating in this act of marriage to the extent of allowing him the freedom to caress her body as he had. And now she had to get up and face him in the light of day, look in his eyes, see the knowing gaze he would turn on her. No doubt he'd be reliving her moments of surrender to him, gloating over the easy capitulation of her body at his urging.

She slid from her position onto the sheet and rolled to the side of the bed. Her feet were on the floor her gown pulled down to cover her body, a body that still tingled in all the inappropriate places he'd managed to bring pleasure to during the last few minutes.

She was angry and determined to remain in control of her own life. Rather, she thought a bit sheepishly, she'd have to gain that control once more, for Lucas had swept it from her grasp during the night, had made of her a clinging female, bowing to his will.

“You all right?” His words stiffened her spine and she reached for her robe, pulling it on and tying it at her waist before she turned to face him where he lay against his pillow. His smile was soft, inviting and she forced herself to ignore the dimple that dented one cheek. She'd never noticed it before. It gave him a boyish look, and she'd had proof positive that Lucas was not a callow youth. Not by a long shot.

“I'm fine.”

He seemed to understand her reticence, for he rose slowly, careful to pull his drawers on before he turned to face her. “Don't be angry with me, Jen. I did my best not to hurt you last night. But I knew you'd feel some degree of pain, and it couldn't be helped.”

“I'm not angry with you,” she said tightly. “Only myself, that I fell into your plan so quickly.”

“My plan?”

“Don't try to tell me you didn't have this whole scene set up in your mind, Lucas. I'm not a total dolt. You were determined to consummate this marriage, even though you knew I wasn't ready for this.”

His mouth firmed and his eyes darkened as he lifted his arms, crossing them over his chest. “You were ready, Jen. Trust me.”

“But that's the problem. I don't trust you. I thought I could and I was wrong. You tossed me on this bed like a sack of potatoes and used me like one of those girls who stood on the balcony over the saloon the day I arrived in town.”

“Ah, that's where you're wrong. I treated you like my wife, not a whore. There's a subtle difference, Jen, and I'd be happy to demonstrate if you like.”

“You won't be touching me again.” Her vow was harsh, her shiver apparent and he was silent for just a moment. And then he uttered words that sealed his fate as far as Jennifer was concerned.

“I'll touch you any time I please. I'm your husband and I have the right.”

Her fear and anger must have been apparent in the look she cast him, as he seemed to regret his foolishness immediately.

“Jennifer, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“You're right,” she told him. “You shouldn't have.” With a swirl of her long robe, she turned to the door and opened it. Lucas strode toward her, but she was gone before he was halfway across the room.

“Damn.” It was a muffled curse, uttered as he picked up his trousers and plunged his legs into them. His shirt was next and he ignored the buttons, leaving the garment to hang open. Barefoot, he followed her.

Ida gave him a look of inquiry as he burst across the threshold into the kitchen.

“Where is she?” He left no room for questions.

“If you're talking about Jennifer, she just went out onto the porch.” Ida cleared her throat. “What did you do to her, Lucas? She looks like she's caught between a rock and a hard place. I've never seen her like this.”

“I made a damn fool of myself.” He couldn't explain it any other way, and since Ida was as smart as any woman he'd ever met, there was no point in trying to whitewash his behavior.

“Hmm…well I suppose you'd better try to make amends,
but I wouldn't hold out a lot of hope this morning. You might want to give her some time to pull herself together.”

He went to the kitchen door and opened it. On the porch, Jennifer stood looking out across the meadow beyond the barn, her arms hugging her waist, her shoulders shaking as if she sobbed.

He could not bear it. That he had made this proud woman cry, that he had demeaned their coming together in the marriage bed in such a way by his harsh words, piled guilt on his head.

I'll touch you any time I please. I'm your husband and I have the right.

“Stupid. You're a stupid man, Lucas O'Reilly.” He muttered the words beneath his breath, cringing as he recalled the things he'd said in the heat of anger. No apology would erase them from her mind. Or his, for that matter.

The spring in the screen door announced his coming and Jennifer lifted a hand to wipe her eyes. She would not cry in front of him. Would not let him know how badly his words had pierced her. No man had the right to do as he pleased. Husband or not, he was bound by the privacy entitled his wife.

What privacy? She almost laughed as she considered the total invasion of her body he'd instigated. She'd lost her entitlement to privacy last night, and no court in the land would hear her, should she seek a bill of divorcement. And that was exactly what she wanted. She would not expose herself again to the seduction of his mouth and hands, the control he'd wielded over her.

She'd been like putty, soft and pliable, had moved as he directed. She'd kissed him, held him in her arms, and almost begged for the consummation he'd staged. She'd been a spineless woman in his hands—and never again would she put herself in such a position.

His palms settled on her shoulders carefully, as if he expected her rebuff. “Jennifer, please turn around and look at me.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?” His words held a touch of amusement and anger bade her face him, lest he think her a coward. She might have lost the battle he'd waged last night, but never would she back down from him.

With a quick movement, she shifted, turning into his arms. “Let go of me, Lucas.”

“I don't think so.”

“You'll either let go of me or we'll both be falling off this porch,” she said. Her feet moved backward and he gripped her, pulling her from the edge.

“Don't be foolish,” he warned her. “You're the one who'd be landing on the bottom, and I guarantee you'd be hurt. I won't have that, Jennifer. You've been hurt enough at my hand.” He stepped back, leaning against the house and hauling her with him.

“Now, come on in the house with me and we'll have breakfast. We can talk about this later on when we don't have an audience.”

She bowed her head, unwilling to look at him. “I'm not hungry.”

“Mrs. Bronson will be disappointed if you don't eat. She's made pancakes for you.”

“You can have my share.”

From the doorway, a soft voice spoke. “Come on in, Jen. Have some coffee.” Ida smiled and held the door open. “This baby is hungry,” she said. “I'll bet she'd eat a pancake with a little help.”

“All right.” Unable to deny her responsibility toward Susan,
Jennifer crossed the threshold and picked up the child from the chair she'd been sitting on, working on a bit of bread. It was mush now, between her fingers and on her face, and she apparently thought it still edible, for she lifted one hand to her mouth and sucked her index finger.

“Let me help you,” Jennifer said, smiling at the triumphant look Susan wore. The baby chewed on her mouthful, then lifted her hand to seek out another bit of damp bread. “How about a pancake instead?”

Sitting in her chair, Jennifer watched as Ida placed two hot-cakes on her plate, then pushed the butter across the table.

“I'll get you some syrup from the pantry,” Ida said.

“Jam might work better.” And would definitely be easier to clean up.

Jennifer buttered the brown, steaming pancakes and added the jam Ida brought. Then she held Susan's hands between her own palms, fingers pointed upward. “Thank you for this food,” she prayed, slowly and quietly in the baby's ear. And then opened her eyes to find Lucas across the table, his gaze on her, smiling as he shifted his attention to Susan.