The Heavenly Surrender (8 page)

“I’m apologizin’ for snappin’ yar head off, I am. I shouldn’t have been so vexed,” Brevan stated.

“It’s fine. You’re tired. I took no offense,” she responded. He knew she had taken offense. Still, he had apologized, so he nodded and turned to leave.

“
Good night, lass,” he mumbled over his shoulder.

Brevan McLean’s conscience hit the pillow clear and guiltless.

Genieva raised her hands to her face. They were still trembling as she sat upright in her bed. Oh! How he’d startled her! She had not expected him to enter so abruptly and unexpectedly—not to mention so improperly attired! Still, she smiled as she recalled the expression donning his face upon entering. It reminded her of an expression a child might own had he been confessing to stealing a cookie from his mother’s cookie jar.

What a different sort of man he is
, Genieva thought, snuggling down into her bed once more. He was so serious, and so determined, that it nearly manifest itself as a flaw in him. But Genieva sensed a mischievousness or playfulness beneath the surface. He had, after all, apologized for snapping at her, therefore proving he had some conscience at least.

Chapter Four

Nearly two weeks had passed—two weeks since Genieva had married Brevan. With each day and night, Genieva began to enjoy the routine of her new life more and more. She had eventually adjusted well to rising before the sun and retiring long after it had set. She found she slept more soundly than she had ever before.

Lita and Brenna were frequent visitors. Genieva looked forward to each time they were near—for they shared wonderful conversation and laughter and confided in and encouraged each other.

On this particular night in mid-April, the couples met for dinner at Brenna and Travis’s. Afterward, as Genieva stood at the kitchen sink drying the plates Lita handed to her from the rinse bucket, she noted how absolutely secure she felt—how thoroughly happy. Lita and Brenna giggled together at some humorous story of Brian’s first attempt at fixing a loose shingle on the roof, resulting in his finding himself somehow flat on the seat of his pants in the dirt. Genieva smiled at the humorous story but also at the pure delight of her friends. Her attention was drawn to the conversation of the three men sitting on the front porch steps. She could hear the comforting lull of their low, masculine voices as they talked, and every now and again a wisp of their conversation was audible to her.

“I’ve got to get that field plowed this next week, I do,” Brevan sighed. “Me corn is gonna be late gettin’ in if I don’t.”

“Ya’ve had other things…distractin’ ya, ya have,” Brian chuckled. “Not that I blame ya now.”

“Nothin’ is distractin’ me. Just the fact that Travis had to run off and marry Brenna, and Lita marry you, ’tis all. I’ve been havin’ to break in the new help, I have. It’s put me behind in me schedulin’.” Brevan’s explanation was followed by a yawn and another sigh.

Genieva set the plate she had been drying on the counter, leaning forward in order to hear better. She briefly looked to Lita when the woman’s elbow met with Genieva’s ribs. Lita and Brenna were both listening intently as well—Lita arching interested eyebrows and nodding at Genieva—an indication she should keep her attention on the conversation going on outside.

But much to the ladies’ frustration, a sudden breeze wafted through the open kitchen window—sending the wind chimes hanging just outside it dancing and tinkling with their piped tune.

“How irritatin’,” Brenna grumbled when the next sound to sail on the breeze was the sound of all three men chuckling lowly and speaking in quiet voices now.

“I am sure he nearly ties himself to his bedpost to keep away from you, Genieva,” Lita whispered, winking with delight.

Genieva shook her head and forced a smile. “I can assure you, Lita…I am no temptation to Brevan. And anyway, he is far too busy with his work to have time to even think of anything else.”

“
Oh, he’s a good one at pretendin’, he is,” Brenna whispered. “But I’ll tell ya this, Genieva McLean…Brevan is the most powerful man I’ve seen in me life when it comes to self-control. But even he’ll break sooner or later and then…” Brenna shook her head and winked. “Well, ya’ll have yar hands full, ya will. I hope ya’re up to it.”

“Sí!” Lita agreed. “It will throw you for a big fall the first time Brevan gives you his…beso…” Lita looked to Brenna inquisitively. “Beso?” she asked.

“Kiss,” Brenna interpreted.

“Sí. The first time he kiss you, Genieva…you will fall hard,” Lita finished, smiling with great certainty.

Genieva stared at Lita—suddenly very curious. She had not missed the reprimanding glare Brenna directed toward the beautiful Mexican woman.

“Of course…this is what happened the first time Brian kiss me, you see.” Lita stammered. She cast her gaze down toward the sink and resumed rinsing the dishes.

“I see,” Genieva muttered. Then, shaking her head to dispel the suspicions forming in her mind, she added, “But I don’t fall easily, Lita. And I’m further assured I’ve nothing to fear where that circumstance is concerned anyway.”

“Oh, mí hermana, it is nothing to fear. I promise you,” Lita assured her sincerely, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Clearing her throat, Brenna rather abruptly changed the subject. “Um…I hope the two of ya are prayin’ for rain, I do. I don’t want to be carryin’ bucket after bucket of water from the creek to water the gardens again this year.”

“Híjole! That was terrible last spring,” Lita agreed.

The men erupted into laughter once more, and Lita and Brenna continued to discuss the lack of rain. But Genieva’s mind was elsewhere. Lita seemed far too sure of herself when it came to describing the effect of Brevan’s kiss on a woman. Surely she was only judging from her experience with her own husband. After all, it was only natural to assume the brothers would share many common characteristics.

Still, as she and Brevan walked home at dusk later that evening, she found herself looking at him differently—pondering unthinkable possibilities. Had Lita been speaking from experience? She fought to drive the name of
“
poor Amy Wilburn” from her thoughts as well. To drive away the words
handsome rogue
,
dashing philanderer
.

“What?” Brevan asked as she continued to stare at him as they approached the house at last.

“
Pardon me?” Genieva inquired.

“Nothing. I…I…” Genieva stammered. They stood at the front door to their house, and Brevan opened it, motioning for Genieva to enter. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

Upon entering their home, Brevan reached over his head and took hold of the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion. The first few times Genieva had witnessed his now predictable habit of stripping off his shirt upon first entering the house each evening, her eyes had nearly bulged and exploded from their sockets. For the sight of his astounding physique had promptly caused Genieva further anxiety and discomfort. A man should not have the ability to inflict such nervous stress upon a woman, she told herself over and over. Yet he did unnerve her terribly, and the past weeks had only proved to Genieva that the fact would escalate with time.

“And what were ya three little witches cacklin’ about over dish doin’ this evenin’?” he asked as he went to the sink and worked the pump to draw water for his hands and face.

“Ever so much more interesting things than you three were,” Genieva said.

“Really, now,” he chuckled. “Well, the lads were askin’ me tonight how it is that I manage to keep me hands from ya, Genieva,” he stated. “Were ya answerin’ the same question where I’m concerned?”

“It would seem so,” Genieva mumbled. It was entirely too hurtful to hear it from his own lips—to hear he had no interest in her. Oh, she knew it well enough—but to hear him say it—it cut woundingly into her soul.

“Aye. It would,” he agreed as he turned toward her. “I’m lackin’ a hand towel to dry with, Genieva,” he complained, walking to her with hands dripping wet.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go get…” she said, turning from him—grateful for a reason to escape his further hurtful, verbal inflictions. But he reached out and took hold of her apron, spinning her back around to face him. Drawing it up from her skirt, he dried his hands thoroughly on it—all the while glaring down at her.

“Ya look tired, Genieva,” he pronounced. “Ya should put yarself to bed, ya should.”

Genieva brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and sighed. “I am tired. I work hard here, you know,” she reminded him rather curtly.

“That ya do, lass.” Then much to her disquiet, he reached out and rested his powerful hands at her waist. “Now, which bed are ya plannin’ to put yarself in then?”

“
Mine, of course. What do you mean?” she asked. Her eyes widened—her mouth gaping open as his insinuation struck her fully. As she felt him slowly begin to pull her body closer to his, she placed a tentative index finger against his chest in a gesture of stalling him.

“
What a horrid thing to imply, Brevan. Especially when…when…”

“When?” he prodded.

“I’m going to bed now, Brevan. I’m tired,” she finished. She felt entirely unstable.

Brevan released her waist. Yet one of his powerful hands cupped her chin firmly—drawing her face closer to his own. She could feel his breath on her lips as he spoke next.

Brevan watched Genieva slowly turn and disappear into her room, closing the door behind her. Running his fingers through his hair, he shook his head. Travis’s heifer had absolutely nothing to do with Brevan’s keeping his hands off Genieva thus far—it was pure common sense. He’d seen Brian and Travis both fall into that bottomless female trap. Blarney! There were even entire days that chores didn’t get done on their lands because the two lovesick lads couldn’t pull themselves away from those women long enough to concentrate on important things.

Brevan was smart enough to admit this adorable, sassy lass named Genieva had gotten to him. She’d distracted him enough that his corn was already late getting in. If he faltered—if he let a mere ounce of further distraction muddle his thoughts—the whole farm would eventually be lost.

Reassured, and with strength anew, Brevan retired to his bed. He’d get his corn in and have a new heifer too, he would.



Genieva didn’t sleep well during the night. When she woke the next morning, her mind was still whirling—her nerves were agitated at the remembrance of being held by Brevan the night before. She could still sense his breath so close to her lips—so close that the taste of it was almost discernable. She busily worked all morning at her chores. Yet having finished the morning chores earlier than usual, she found she had merely created excess time to try to scatter the memory of Brevan’s teasing from her thoughts. This was how she found herself mixing a cake when Brevan entered just before midday.

“Ya’ve certainly had the bee under yar saddle today, ya have,” Brevan greeted Genieva as he entered the house. He paused at the pump to wash his hands.

“You mean a bee in my bonnet,” Genieva corrected shortly.

“Same thing the way I see it. Whichever it is, ya’ve certainly worked fast this mornin’.”

“Just wanted to get to some other things today. That’s all,” Genieva lied. She paused in beating the cake batter, setting the bowl on the counter as she turned to wipe the excess flour from the table.

“Get your fingers out of that cake batter!” she screeched when she turned back to her bowl in time to see Brevan plunge his index finger into the batter therein. Brevan turned to face her as he licked the batter from his finger. Raising his eyebrows with rebellion, he then dipped two fingers into the chocolate batter. He licked his fingers dramatically and with an air of superiority, causing Genieva’s eyes to turn the color of the sweetness he was tasting. “I said, get your fingers out of that batter!”

As she stood before him, glaring daringly up at him, Brevan reminded her, “’Tis my house too, it is. I’ll eat what I want, lass.” Triumphantly he placed the two fingers into the bowl of batter once more, swirling them in the mixture before drawing them out and smacking his lips after he had licked them clean.

The anxiety she’d endured throughout her morning, coupled with fatigue from her sleepless night, found Genieva’s temper indeed provoked. Taking the wooden spoon from the bowl, she tapped it ceremoniously on the side of the dish to lessen the amount of batter clinging to it. Then, inhaling deeply, she soundly spanked Brevan across the seat of the pants with the spoon.