Mara McBain

by McCade's Way

  “I didn’t think,” Gen murmured, embarrassment staining her cheeks. “He was right. I’m headstrong. My father always said I need a strong hand.” Chewing her bottom lip, she stared at his boots. Her father had to be laughing in hell to see her married to a man that could break her without trying.

  “Strong willed isn’t exactly a bad thing in a woman as long as you temper it with a little common sense,” he said slowly.

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She peeked up at him through the veil of her unbound hair.

  “Baby, if I wanted you to shiver and shake like a scared rabbit every time I growled, I could make that happen,” he drawled, brushing his knuckles across the end of her nose in point. “As it happens, I like a woman with a mind of her own and a little fire. I was raised by a strong woman to respect the same. All I’m asking is that you use those wits to stop and think.”

  Gen nodded. Not only were his words a dream, they made sense. She told him the truth.

  “You’re right. I’m not used to having anyone to depend on besides myself. A man like you is a luxury I’ve never had. You’re uncharted territory, big man,” she whispered, trying for a bit of levity.

  It worked. He chuckled. It seemed her husband liked the endearment. She moved closer, tentatively pressing into his solid body. His arms came around her in welcome. Wetting her lips, she ran her hands up his back under his coat, swaying slowly in his arms.

  “Is this your way of making up, Mrs. McCade?” he asked, looking down at her with a little smile.

  “If it pleases my husband,” she answered breathlessly.

  His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and lift her against him. She gasped as he ground her against the ridge behind his zipper,

  “Oh, I think it pleases your husband,” he said with a throaty chuckle.

  She caught her breath as he swung her around to press her back against the wall. His hands urged her legs around his hips. Cradling her in his arms, he took his time kissing her until her head spun. She whimpered when he raised his head, leaning up in search of his lips.

  “You like that, darlin'?”

  “Mmmhmmm,” she hummed, trailing kisses down the side of his neck.

  He cupped the back of her head, encouraging her kisses as his hips rocked against her. Fumbling with her skirts with one hand, he almost dropped her. Gen gasped, her grip around his neck tightening. He laughed against the side of her neck and urged her to stand. Spearing his fingers through her hair, he pinned her head and brought his lips back to hers, plundering her mouth until she moaned and writhed helplessly against him.

  Turning her as easily as a child, he bent her over the tack room work bench. Panting, her knees felt as unsteady as the new calf’s. The cool night air chilled her thighs as he tossed her skirts up over her back. She squirmed, visualizing how lewd and vulnerable the position left her. She glanced around the barn uncomfortably, half rising before Trey pushed her back to the solid surface.

  “Shh, darlin'. Trust me,” he murmured as his warm body pressed tight against her back.

  Her mouth opened in a silent scream as he thrust deep into her. His big hands gripped her hips as he slid in and out of her. She twisted against the unbelievable feeling as he filled and stretched her. It felt so good. Pushing back into the shove of his hips, she cried out in pleasure. Fingertips digging into her hip bones, Trey slammed harder into her. She reveled in the power of his body, never feeling as soft and feminine as she did under him.

  Her next cry was one of pain as her hip smashed against the rough bench. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she tried to straighten but Trey’s lunging hips allowed for no escape. His arm wrapped around her waist, his forearm protecting her from the harsh wood. His new grasp allowed him to drive faster and harder into her until she wailed in pleasure, jerking helplessly in his grip. He slammed violently into her until his body bowed over her and a bellow scattered the pigeons from their roost in the rafters.

  His breath was harsh in her ear, his body heavy as he slumped over her. She shivered as he swept her hair to the side and kissed the nape of her neck.

  “Damn, darlin'. That’s what I call making up,” he rumbled against her skin.

  She couldn’t hold back a breathless giggle at the comment. Regardless of what he’d said about sex not being a bartering tool, if it took her husband from the hard, intimidating man that had walked her to the barn, to the happy one nuzzling her nape, she was going to use it and enjoy it. A regretful sigh slipped from her lips as he slid out of her. Never would she of thought that the sexual aspect of marriage would be the easy part.

  A shiver worked down her spine as she remembered her position. Straightening shakily, she self-consciously tugged her nightgown and skirt back down. She stepped away from the work bench, her gaze darting from the array of whips to her husband who was buttoning his pants. Her body’s tremor became more pronounced, and she hugged herself uncertainly.

  “Come on, baby. Let’s get you back to the house before you freeze,” Trey rumbled, taking her arm and turning her to the doors.

  “Thank you for letting me see that. It was amazing,” she whispered, glancing back toward the stall.

  “So much for punishing this wife with a cold, boring trip to the barn,” Trey said with a chuckle.

  “Punish?” Gen squeaked.

  “If I’d dragged Catherine out to the barn in the middle of the night, she’d have considered it akin to torture.”

  Gen stared up at him in disbelief. The disparity between his words and her imagination while tripping out to the barn tonight were almost comical.

  “What?” he asked, a hint of a grin twitching his lips. “Did you think I was dragging you out here where no one would hear you scream?”

  Dipping her head, she blushed at how correct he was. He tilted her face back up and chuckled.

  “darlin', if I was going to beat you, I wouldn’t care who heard that any more than I worry about it when I make you scream my name in pleasure.”

  Chapter Eight

  Gen wrapped her sweater tighter as she stepped out of the hen house. The November wind whipped her hair and held the promise of winter’s approach. She looked up in time to see her husband hop easily over the pasture fence. She smiled. He had such grace for his size. Brushing hair from her face, she squinted at his cargo in the early morning gloom. He carried a pair of boots and something else.

  “Morning, darlin',” he greeted, dropping a kiss on her lips before tucking her into the lee of his big body and heading for the house.

  Ducking into the warmth of the mudroom was a relief for both of them. Gen giggled as her husband straightened his own wild mane. He winked at her and indicated the items he’d sat down.

  “Old man winter is knocking. We’re going to need to get you back into town and pick up a few more things, but I thought these might do for working outside. They were my mama’s.”

  Genevieve’s hands stroked over the thick barn coat quilted from pieces of denim and lined with a pretty yellow and blue checked flannel.

  “She made the coat. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm,” he said awkwardly.

  “I think it’s beautiful,” she said, pulling a yellow and blue flannel scarf from the pocket and mittens lined with the same material. She looked up into his uncertain face and smiled. “Your mother had excellent taste and such style to make something functional so pretty at the same time. I’d be beyond honored to wear these.”

  His broad face broke into a grin that took her breath away. He took years off when he smiled like that.

  She slid her hand down inside one of the tall sturdy boots, luxuriating in the soft fur lining. Heather McCade had been a practical but pampered woman, and now she was reaping the benefits.

  “I’m glad you like them. Like I said, we’ll go into town probably this week or next and pick you up some stuff of your own to get you through the winter. Be thinking about what you need and what we need for the house. We might as well get stocked up while we can. We
’ll be able to get into town for the basics unless it gets really bad this winter, but I warn you that I tend to stick close to the fire when snow flies.”

  “If you wa—wanted, or didn’t mind, I could go through your mother’s things and see what will work. I’m not as talented with a needle as she obviously was, but I can make simple alterations,” she said a little shyly. “Oh, and we’re out of cocoa.”

  He frowned and she bit her lip. Had she over stepped? He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It’s fine by me if you want to look through her closet, but I don’t want you thinking that you have to wear my mama’s hand-me-downs. The boots and work coat made sense, but I can afford to outfit my wife. We’re doing a whole lot better than most.”

  “You’ve been very generous, but I’m sure that you wouldn’t be as comfortable as you are in these tight times if you made a habit of spending frivolously. I’m no more a social butterfly than you are. If what I’ve seen so far is any indication, your mother’s sensible but pretty style would fit me and our life here very well.”

  He stared down at her for a long moment and then slowly shook his head and smiled.

  “You’re just full of surprises.”

  Trey swung the maul with easy practice, splitting logs as Cole set them up on edge for him. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, his new wife hadn’t been what he expected. She sure as hell didn’t fit the bill of plain. Her intelligence, sense of humor, and eagerness to please went beyond the civil arrangement he’d pictured. He was quickly falling for the girl, and that hadn’t been part of the deal. As worried as he’d been, her strength last night, both on a moral stage and a physical one, had impressed him. He admired a person that was willing to lay themselves on the line for what they believed in. Beyond anything else, her down-to-earth manner threw him for a loop. She was about as different from Catherine as two people could be and still be considered women.

  He snorted at that thought and Cole looked up at him. Trey shrugged it off and kept swinging. Catherine had always been more than willing to spend his money for him, with or without his assistance or consent. She sure as hell would’ve never turned down new clothes, and the thought of her in hand-me-downs or anything that wasn’t as close to the height of fashion as you could get in Virginia, was laughable. He sighed, wishing he’d met Genevieve upon coming back from Texas instead of the manipulative china doll he’d married. His gut twisted. What if he gave his heart to this willowy firebrand and got burned again?

  Initially, he’d been a little concerned about the age difference between them. It wasn’t a lot by society’s standards, but he had ten years on the girl. She wasn’t the plain thing without promise or aspirations Patrick had described. Gen was a smart girl and everyone had dreams. She was gaining confidence every day. Was the woman he was falling for who she would turn out to be? He pondered that one for a while.

  “Last one,” Cole said.

  Trey brought the maul down with devastating force, cleaving the big log in two and sending the pieces flying.

  “Whoa,” his little brother said, hopping over a piece that threatened his shins.

  Trey pulled the head of the maul from the dirt with a curse. He’d just sharpened the damn thing. Cleaning the blade on his pant leg, he set it aside and picked up the saw.

  “That Chestnut there is next,” he said, stepping around the split wood scattered around his feet.

  “Jesus. Are you forgetting that we have electricity in both places now?” Cole grumbled.

  “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

  “I swear if you start telling me the ant and the grasshopper story, I’ll hit you in the head with a log.”

  “Maybe at bedtime, if you’re good.”

  “I’m serious, Trey. We have a furnace and enough damn firewood stacked in the lean-to to last us the next three or four winters. Why the hell do you have to do everything the hard way? What is the point of working just to be working? The harvest is in. The barns and cellar are full to bursting. We’re ready for winter. Take a fucking break already.”

  Trey turned, flinging the saw to the ground. “Why do you have to question everything I fucking do?”

  “Because you’re bullheaded and do everything the hard way!” Cole bellowed back at him.

  “You didn’t want this damn farm, remember? I had to come home from Texas to run it because you couldn’t be bothered!”

  “You had to come home from Texas because Daddy wanted you! He didn’t want my damn help. He wanted you. I’m not you. I never will be.”

  “Aw don’t give me your Daddy didn’t love me enough bullshit!”

  “If I couldn’t be bothered, what am I still doing here?” Cole asked, throwing his arms wide.

  “Being a pain in my ass,” Trey groused.

  “Is that what you really think? Because if you want me to leave, all you have to do is say the fucking word. Unlike Uncle Wade, I don’t need to look at the will to know Daddy left the farm to you.”

  Trey stared at his little brother, his jaw working as he tried to rein in his impatience and growing anger.

  “What business is it of Wade’s what our daddy’s will reads?”

  “Just forget it,” Cole muttered turning away. His arm shook as he plowed a calloused hand through his hair. Several straw colored strands had worked their way free during the course of the afternoon, lending him a wild look.

  Bending down, Trey snagged a piece of wood and hurled it at his brother’s wide shoulder.

  “Don’t turn your back on me, boy! I asked you a damn question.”

  Cole whirled at the stiff bark. Anger and hurt blazed in his eyes as he gave his arm an experimental roll.

  “You just don’t get it do you? It’s bad enough knowing your own daddy didn’t think you man enough to take care of yourself or his farm, but to have the rest of your family throw it in your face, too?” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “Hell, the whole damn town knows. I’m not as stupid as you think. I get it, big brother. I’m nothing but a glorified farmhand!”

  Trey blinked. He couldn’t have been more stunned if Cole had smacked him upside the head with a log.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Which one am I wrong on, Trey: Daddy, the rest of the family, the people in town, or you?”

  “You know I don’t give a shit what the people in town think, but you’re wrong about Daddy. You told him you didn’t want to do this for the rest of your life. That’s why he called me home,” Trey said slowly. “There are stipulations in writing that give you or Nate a third of this place at any time you want to actually work it. Regardless, you each get a percentage of any profit at the end of the year, whether you lift a damn finger on this farm or not. He wasn’t trying to screw you, Cole. He was giving you the freedom to be who and what you wanted to be.”

  “What about you? What about your freedom?”

  Trey gave a small smile, shaking his head. “He gave me my time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “Why didn’t you read the damn will?”

  “So that money you gave me last year, that was this percentage that Nate and I get?”

  Trey’s laugh was harsh. “Holy shit, no. I sent Nate his percentage, and then I split the rest evenly between you and I. Boy, you need to look at the books once in a while.”

  “Evenly?”

  “The way I look at it, as long as you stay, we’re partners in this. You know Nate ain’t going to come home and get his hands dirty.”

  Cole snorted, his eye roll saying all that needed to be said about the chances of Nate doing a day’s work.

  “So that’s what you think we are, partners?”

  “Brothers, partners, what else you going to call it?” Trey asked, picking up the saw and heading for the wagon.

  “If we’re partners then why the hell are you always bossing me around?”

  “I thought that was obvious,” Trey said, catching him in a headlock as he went by, “be
cause you’re the little brother.”

  Finishing up the lunch dishes, Gen hung the towel to dry and stared out the big window over the sink. What had Trey meant about surprises? At least the smile on his face had indicated they were of the pleasant sort. Glancing around the kitchen, she looked for something else to occupy her mind and hands. Though it seemed she’d managed to smooth things over with Trey, Rose wasn’t as forgiving. The woman had been downright chilly today and had whisked Lilly away when she’d tried to play with the little girl.

  Biting her lip, Gen peeked into the living room where Rose was reading to Lilly in front of the fire. The child glanced up, a smile making her deep dimples pop. Genevieve’s return smile melted away as Rose glared at her.

  “I thought I would go out to the barn and check on the new calf. Is there anything you need before I go?” she asked awkwardly.

  “We’re fine. Please don’t concern yourself with us,” Rose said icily.

  Gen fought the urge to drop a sarcastic courtesy on the dismissal and stalked to the mudroom. Pulling on the warm clothes Trey had brought her that morning, she slipped out the back door. Hunching her shoulders against the wind, she crossed the yard wondering where Brutus was. It seemed she wasn’t very popular today.

  The sweet smell of hay greeted her as she slipped into the barn, closing the door behind her. Most of the stalls were empty, the stock eking out the last grass of the fall in the pastures. She smiled as the new mother stuck her head over the door at her approach. Rubbing the cow’s broad forehead like she’d seen Trey do, she leaned over the gate to look for the baby. The little one peeked out from underneath her mom and Gen smiled.

  “Hi there, little girl,” she whispered into the quiet.

  The calf’s big ears flickered at her voice.

  “Hi there, little girl.”

  Gen froze at the silky whisper and the press of a warm body against her back. Her heart hammered as Wade’s lips brushed her ear.