Mara McBain (5 page)

Her head jerked back as his tongue swept aggressively between her lips. He managed to cup her jaw with his left hand and held her head still, kissing her the way he wanted to. It didn’t take long for her soft tongue to dart forward and dance with his. Her nails dug into his back as he moved to position himself at her opening. They gouged deep as he filled her, but the clutch of her fingers was encouraging.

Her cries were soft and breathless, eyes wide as he rocked slowly, building a rhythm. His earlier weariness aches and pains were forgotten. Keeping his movements long and slow, he helped build his bride’s desire. Taking things slow with her wasn’t a hardship. He felt like he could make love to her for days. Damn, she was beautiful with her pale skin flushed and lips parted in desire. Acceptance was sexy. Kissing her again, he pushed deep, loving the clasp of her body and hands. She moaned in approval, body jerking up to meet him. Her legs came around him to ease the way and he thrust hard, losing himself in the desire to claim this woman and mark her as only his. The bed springs squawked in violent protest as he slammed into her. Soft cries ripped from her with every thrust. Her head thrashed back and forth in desperate denial, but his name and a simple plea fell from her lips.

“Come on, darlin',” he whispered, his voice harsh with need and exertion.

His eyes fell closed in triumph when her scream rang unchecked, and her slender body bucked wildly underneath him. Gripping her tight, he plunged into her until the roar of his blood drowned out everything and his back bowed in savage release.

Her long fingers were sliding through his damp hair when he came back to himself. He didn’t know how long he’d lain there, but his breathing was slowing. Turning onto one shoulder, he looked down at his wife. Gen offered a little smile, her grey eyes running over his face as if seeking answers. He didn’t have any for her. He wasn’t even sure what the questions were. Feeling vulnerable under her gaze, he rolled out of bed and offered his hand.

“Let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep.”

She took his hand and followed him into the hall. He looked back at a little giggle. Her free arm was crossed self-consciously over her body, trying to protect her modesty. He smiled.

“There’s no one here but us, darlin', and I’ve done seen it and more.”

She laughed and pressed close to his back, using him as a shield against unknown eyes. He shook his head and turned into the bathroom. He let her wash up and then took his turn. He jerked at a touch to his ponytail. She pulled the tie loose and ran her fingers through it. He tensed, trying to see her face in the mirror. Was this going to turn into a lecture on the latest styles and fashions? He sighed. He really didn’t give a damn.

“May I brush it for you when we get back to the bedroom?” she asked, peeking around his side at him.

He blinked at her in the mirror. Her expression seemed sincere. He shrugged.

“If you wanna.”

Her lips curled, and she tried to hide a smile against his ribs. His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“Don’t be mad,” she said, giving him that cute calf-eyed look women used. “I love your southern accent. It’s just more pronounced on certain words or combinations.”

“Like what?”

“A New Yorker would have said
if you want to
, but your sexy drawl runs it together to
if you wanna
.”

He eyed her in the mirror for a long moment. A slight smile still graced her lips and her eyes were that damn silver again.

“You think it’s sexy, huh? Most big city types think I sound like an uneducated hick.”

Her hands stroked over his ribs. He caught his breath as one slid in front to stroke around his navel. Her hand froze, and she jerked it back before he could catch it.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, spinning for the door and breaking the spell.

His hand shot out and grabbed her elbow. She flinched, but didn’t try to break away from him.

“Sorry for what, and you didn’t answer my question.”

She didn’t look at him. Her toe traced the grout line on the tile floor. Shaking her head, she visibly struggled for words.

“I’m not a whore,” she croaked out.

“I never said you wer—” his angry protest died on his lips. He had. He felt his face color in shame. His mama would be sorely ashamed of him. He sighed. She jumped when he reached over and slammed the lid down on the toilet. Sitting down on it, he pulled her stiff form into his lap. “I owe you an apology. That was uncalled for. I was tired and grouchy, and thinking of someone else and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulder lifted in a little shrug.

“I understand if you aren’t ready to accept my apology, but I hope you know it’s sincere.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry if I intruded on memories of Catherine.”

“Some things just don’t fade as fast as others, and that woman left behind some triggers,” he admitted.

She shivered, and he boosted her easily to her feet. Neither said anything as they made their way back to the bedroom and retrieved their night clothes. He scratched his scalp, giving his wavy mane a toss and looked around for a tie.

“May I brush it out for you?”

He turned to look at her. She was kneeling in the middle of the bed with her hairbrush in hand. He hesitated, glancing around the room. What in the hell would Cole say if he saw him getting his hair brushed like a little girl on Sunday morning? He cleared his throat and looked back at her.

“I love your hair. I have to admit that I’m envious,” she said with a little laugh.

“Of this mop?” he asked with a snort.

“It has beautiful natural wave to it. My hair is carrot orange and straight as a stick. Even curlers don’t do a thing for it.”

“It’s pretty, like a shiny copper penny in the sun. I like it.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, her expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“Were you serious about my drawl?”

She nodded, and he nodded back with a little wink. She blushed and giggled, then leaned forward and patted the mattress on his side of the bed. He glanced toward the door again and shrugged. Sitting down with his back to her, he waited while she crawled across the bed. Her hands were gentle as she started brushing out the tangles. He vaguely remembered his mama doing the same when he was little. Cut short, his hair was a mess of wild curls. The shit grew fast so it was either cut it every couple of weeks or grow it out. He’d discovered when he was out west that if he let it grow long enough, the weight of the stuff straightened out the damn curls. Fashion be damned, it was easier this way. His eyes closed in contentment as she worked her magic. Like the shoulder rub, he could get used to this. 

A yawn finally brought the moment to an end. Gen carefully tied his hair back and surprised him with a kiss on the back of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbled through another yawn and reached for the light.

“It was my pleasure.”

He waited until she’d put the brush away and scrambled back in bed before he turned off the bedside lamp. Stretching out, he bit back a groan. It had been a long day, physically and emotionally. He nearly snorted at that second bit. Women were not easy. He knew that from his first go around, but he’d decided to try it again and he owed it to Gen to try and make things work. It wasn’t Gen’s fault Catherine was gone. This was a chance at a fresh start for both of them.

She shifted on the other side of the bed, and it felt like she was shivering. Remembering the cool touch of her skin earlier, he reached out for her.

“Come here if you’re cold.”

She wiggled across the bed, and he wrapped her into the crook of his arm.

“Better?”

She nodded, giving his chest a grateful kiss.

“Are you always this warm?”

“I guess.”

She made a soft humming noise of approval. He chuckled.

“I’m glad you approve. You know there’re more blankets in the chest.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m really happy right here for tonight.”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, I don’t mind.” He smiled in the dark and shook his head. Not that he was going to admit it to her, but he liked her curled up to him. It appealed to his manly side. He snorted in the dark, and he could feel her face tilt up toward his. He patted the curve of her bottom in reassurance. When he didn’t say anything, she nuzzled his chest and settled back in. Closing his eyes, he sent up an awkward prayer. I’d been a while since he’d tried it, but it couldn’t hurt. Maybe his mama would put in a good word for him.

Gen hesitated with the full basket of damp laundry. The past three days had been as close to wedded bliss as she could imagine. Still working long hours to try and take advantage of the mild weather, Trey had been warm and charming at night. She bit her lip. Brutus stood up on the porch, watching her. What Trey hadn’t done, was reverse his order that she not leave the house. He’d been walking up for lunch when a salesman had come up the drive the other day. Trey met him before he made the porch. When she’d opened the door in curiosity, her husband’s voice had been harsh when he ordered her back inside.

She shielded her eyes from the sun, searching the fields for any sign of the men, but didn’t see anything.  Her eyes darted to the clothesline. Bright mums grew around the poles that were only fifty yards from the side of the house.
Step one foot outside this house, or talk to anyone, and I’ll beat you.
The words still resonated in her head. There weren’t too many ways to misinterpret them. She closed the door. Brutus lay back down in front of the door with his big head on his paws. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the look on the dog’s face said
good choice
.

Trey trudged behind the wagon as it groaned and creaked under the load of firewood. Cole kicked the tractor into a higher gear as they hit flat ground and motored for the house without a backward glance. Trey was glad he’d chosen to walk. They’d butted heads all day and maybe the walk would give his temper time to cool. If he heard the words old-fashioned, antiquated, or out of touch one more time today, his maul might end up buried in his brother’s head.

How could someone who’d grown up in the same household he had not see the common sense of being prepared for winter? The McCade farm had only had electricity for four years now and only because their esteemed mayor’s place was just beyond theirs. Even their mama had questioned him on including the conventional wood burning stove in the kitchen that sat cold, but he’d stayed stubborn. Modern conveniences were wonderful things. He wasn’t denying that, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to bank his family’s safety and well-being on a line of rickety poles and tangled wires.

When he reached the barnyard, the tractor was parked near the woodpile and Cole was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head, Trey checked to see that Brute was at his post on the porch and set to doing the evening chores with his mind on a good meal, a warm shower, and a hot woman. He smiled remembering her question about where women fell in his priorities. If he thought she could stand the smell of him, he’d move her up a spot.

He was just closing up the barn when he heard a shout. He spun toward the pasture separating his home from the original house. The clouds were shadowing the moon, but it looked like two figures coming across the field. Crossing the yard, he heard Brute’s low growl. The big mutt had walked to the edge of the porch and was looking in the same direction as his master.

“Stay!” Trey ordered sharply.

Reaching the fence, he rested a boot on the bottom rung and waited. Cole was recognizable by his size and gait, but he couldn’t get a read on the smaller man in the dim light.

“Look who I found on my porch,” Cole said, a hint of derision in his voice that made Trey straighten to his full height. 

“Good God, boy, look at the size of you. It doesn’t look like you’re missing too many meals in these lean times,” the slender man said, slipping through the fence.

Trey fought not to let his dislike for his uncle show as he accepted a handshake and a few slaps on the back.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I heard about your ma. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”

“Not sorry enough to attend the funeral,” Trey said flatly. “That was almost a year ago. What do you want?”

“You are Thomas’s boy, aren’t you? Always blunt and to the point.”

“Yes, sir. I’d be helpful if you were the same. Dinner is waiting.”

“I appreciate that, boy. I could use a good hot meal while we talk. Getting rid of that pretty little wife of yours must’ve eased up the pressure on your balls and wallet. You’ve added a couple buildings to the new place since I was here last. You must be doing well for yourself living like this when the rest of us can’t keep a roof over our heads.”

Trey ground his teeth as the older man brushed past him, tossing out insults as he went. His father’s youngest brother had never possessed an ounce of tact, and work was a foul word to him. Cole stepped up beside him as Wade continued across the yard talking to his self.

“Do we really have to feed the pansy ass?”

“I think it would take longer to stand here and argue with him or dig a hole to bury him,” Trey said with an eye roll. “And I’m starving.”

Brutus brought Wade to a sharp stop with a foot on the bottom stair.

“Is this beast all bark and no bite, or is he serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Trey answered, overtaking him and stepping up onto the porch.

“He doesn’t listen to anyone but Trey. He’ll have to call him off or he will take a bite outa your ass,” Cole said, stepping cautiously past Brutus.

Trey stepped in the back door and was immediately met by his wife’s lacy nightgown hanging from the rafters in the mudroom. He frowned at the dangling unmentionables including his own.

“What the hell is this?” he snapped, sticking his head into the kitchen.

“Laundry,” she answered like he was stupid and couldn’t see that.

His eyes narrowed as no further explanation was forthcoming. 

“I know what it is. What I want to know is why don’t you know how to do laundry?”

She finally turned to look at him, a combination of confusion and annoyance marking her flushed features. “I did four loads. That is the last of it.”

“We have a clothes line,” he barked, his patience at an end with people today.

“The clothes line is outside,” she snapped back. “Was I supposed to wait until you got home to dry the laundry? Were you planning on hanging it out? In case you have forgotten I’m not to leave the house unless I want be—”

Trey grabbed her arm and yanked her close, cutting off her shrewish temper tantrum. She jerked back, struggling against his hold for a moment. Her eyes widened as he snarled, “Do you really want to remind me what I promised?”

He reached up to straighten his hat as her flailing hand hit the brim, and she flinched. Her struggles ceased and she turned her face away, waiting for the blow. The terrified resignation on her face sobered him.

“She has a point. What did you want her to do?” Cole asked from behind him.

“Get out,” Trey snarled.

“Don’t want to beat your wife with an audience, big brother? Don’t forget Mama’s watching.”

“Give me a God damn minute to talk to my wife!” Trey thundered, all patience fleeing him.

“If I thought talk was—”

Trey spun on his heel, his huge fists closing in the front of Cole’s shirt as he drove him across the room to slam against a wall.

“Give us a minute, or so help me God. Mama ain’t here to protect you, boy.”

Cole’s eyes were wide, but to his credit his voice was steady when he spoke. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t do something you’re going to regret,” he said and pushing Trey’s fists away, spun and walked out the door batting hanging laundry out of his way.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Trey turned back to his wife. She was gone. A low growl reverberated in his chest. If he had to kick down a door tonight on top of everything else, he was going to be very unhappy. He stepped around the table and stopped. Gen sat on the floor with her knees drawn up. He sighed and tossed his Stetson on the table. Leaning against the counter, he slowly slid down to sit next to her. Neither of them said anything for a long moment and then Genevieve whispered,

“My father was right. I’m not cut out to be a wife.”

“Maybe no more than I’m cut out to be a husband,” Trey said with a humorless chuckle. “But here we are.”

“You’re everything a husband is supposed to be. You’re strong and steady, make a good living, provide and protect,” she protested.

“I don’t believe a husband is supposed to be a jealous ass and take shit out on his wife because she’ll take it,” he said with a little sigh. “I’m not angry with you. I spent the whole day butting heads with my little brother, and I guess I went looking for an argument I could win.”

“I didn’t mean to be snotty with you. I deserve whatever you give me for that.”

“I ain’t going to smack you. I’m not your daddy.”

“I just want to make you happy. I promised myself I’d do whatever it took. You’re giving me so much and what’re you getting in return?”

“I’m not too sure you aren’t getting the raw end of the deal, darlin',” Trey answered with a snort.

“What do you mean?” she whispered uncertainly.

Trey closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cupboard, fighting with how much to tell her. Some wounds were still fresh. In the last three years, he’d been forced to leave the life he’d built in Texas to come home and watch the man he’d thought invincible brought to his knees with a disease he couldn’t fight. He’d tried to start a family of his own, only to have that dream ripped away, and he’d lost his beloved mother to a broken heart. He really wasn’t sure how much more he was supposed to take. His lips curved in a bitter smile. Gen thought him strong and steady. Would telling her help heal old wounds, or would it just leave him vulnerable? His uncle’s impatient voice on the porch made him thud the back of his head on the cabinet door. Now wasn’t the time.

“Suffice it to say, I’ve got a nasty temper, a jealous streak a mile wide, no social graces and I ain’t much to look at. You could’ve done better.”

He ignored her negative head shake and levered to his feet, offering his hand down to her. Cole chose that moment to stick his head back in.

“Your minute is up.”

Trey shot him an exasperated look, but turned back to Gen as her hand cupped his cheek. Stepping close, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He smiled down at her, but didn’t let her step back. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips in a long slow kiss and then rested his forehead against hers.

“If nothing else, darlin', we’re good at this,” he drawled.

She laughed, blushing lightly. “That we are.”

“Set another plate. We have company,” he said straightening reluctantly.

Gen’s gaze flew to the backdoor, and she looked back at him in confusion but she was already grabbing another place setting.

“Do you want me to move dinner to the dining room?”

“The kitchen will be good enough,” he said with a sigh and headed for the door. 

A soft gasp sounded behind him and, as he turned, Gen flew by him to push Cole out of the way and grab at the laundry. He couldn’t hold back a laugh. Shoving Cole back onto the porch, he closed the door and helped his wife gather the hanging clothes into a basket before giving her another kiss and a little wink. The door opened against his back. 

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t a man kiss his bride in peace?” Trey grumbled. “What?”

“Uncle Wade brought his new wife with him.”

“Okay,” Trey said slowly. “Where is she?”

Cole winced and glanced at Gen. “He left her at the train station while he came out to talk to us.”

Trey turned, ripping the door out of his brother’s hand to glare over his head at their uncle. “How long ago?”

“Our train got in at three,” Wade said defensively.

“And you left her there alone for going on four hours?”

“You make it sound like I left her in a brothel. She’s perfectly capable of sitting in a train station while I make arrangements,” their uncle said, rolling his eyes. “They let the twits vote and everything now.”

Trey saw Cole brace to hold him back and just shook his head in disgust. His voice was a low rumble when he forced out the words, “Get off my property.”

“You’re going to turn away family? What would Thomas say?”

“My daddy would be as sickened by your treatment of a woman as I am, but what you need to worry about right now is the fact that he’s not here and I am.”

“Thomas was my brother, I have a right—”

“You better stop right there,” Trey interrupted, pushing past Cole. “This is my home now and I don’t owe you shit. If you want to get technical, I got an I.O.U in the safe that says you owe this farm twenty-five hundred dollars.” 

Wade paled and looked to Cole for help, but when none was forthcoming he changed tactics, his bony shoulders sagging.

“We have no place to go, Trey. We lost our home to the bank, and Rose is pregnant again.”

“Again?” Trey asked, pressing his lips together in a firm line as he struggled with his temper. He took a deep breath. “Meaning you left a pregnant woman, with a child, alone at the train station in a city where she knows no one. Do I have that right?”

“Jesus,” Cole breathed in pure disgust. “I’ll get the truck.”

Trey watched his brother disappear into the gloom before glancing back to his uncle. “Go with Cole to get your family. We’ll talk more about this later.”

Gen scurried back as Trey shut the door. The muscle along his jaw was white with the strain of his fury. Her gaze darted to his hands. They were balled in fists. He leaned back against the counter and slowly straightened his hands to rub his face. Pouring a mug of coffee, she offered it to him timidly, not too sure the hot bitter liquid wouldn’t be slapped back in her face. He wrapped his big hands around it.

“The two extra rooms and Cole’s are clean and ready for company. Do we know how old the child is?” she asked softly.

He just shook his head and sipped the coffee.

“There should be plenty to eat tonight. I’ll just have to rethink breakfast if there isn’t enough ham left over,” she continued, glancing toward the table and pulling another plate from the cupboard.

She hurried around the kitchen, chewing her bottom lip and checking their staples. Digging out a large mixing bowl, she started mixing up a batch of dough. She’d planned on baking bread tomorrow. She’d just get a head start, and if she cut up the rest of the windfall apples, she could bake them down to go over pancakes in the morning. She froze as Trey’s big hands landed on her shoulders. She held her breath. His chin rested on top of her head, and she could feel the rumble of his voice.