The Rancher and The Bad Girl

by Kira Barcelo

  "This reminds me… riding lessons start tomorrow," she heard Reeve say beside her.

  Relieved, Melanie sighed. "That's if we're not too busy."

  "You won't be. At least an hour tomorrow. You'll be settling in today and getting used to your new home. But you'll be learning to handle a horse starting tomorrow."

  "You know, Reeve, there's always the chance," she ventured slowly, "that I won't ever be good at it."

  "You'll be that expert horsewoman you've always wanted to be by the time I'm done with you."

  "Hmph." She stuck her tongue out, though she was looking forward at the road.

  "Better not be pouting, Mrs.," he cautioned.

  "I didn't. I stuck my tongue out at you!" She was only half playing around. The other half of her wanted to make it known that she was Mrs. Reeve Larson now. That meant she would make sure she'd have a say.

  Reeve squinted at her. "Stuck your tongue out at me, did you? It may be our wedding day, but that's no guarantee the bride won't get turned over my knee if she misbehaves. I don't think you want to spend your wedding night sleeping on your belly."

  "I was just teasing," she protested with a pout.

  Another hard bump in the road, another rough landing in the saddle. Melanie was grateful to see the ranch up around the bend.

  "You'll learn to ride a horse—your house, the one I gave you—and how to handle a gun."

  "I already know how to do that," she assured him.

  "You do?"

  "Yes. For your information, I am not such a helpless female."

  "Where'd you learn how to shoot a gun?" he demanded.

  "How to shoot it, how to load it, how to clean it. Yes, sir. My father taught me all that."

  "Is that so!" She thought he sounded impressed until he added, "You don't mind if I test that knowledge, now do you?"

  "Don't mind at all. Do I get a prize for passing your little test?" Again, she was half teasing, half sarcastic. To her delight, he shot her a swarthy smirk.

  "Tell you what. I will give you a prize for passing that test. Something we'll both like."

  "And what about for riding? Do I get a prize for learning how to do that?"

  "Your prize for learning to ride will be the sense of accomplishment it'll give you."

  Melanie waited for him to say something to the tune of not having to lie about her horseback riding prowess ever again. When he didn't say a thing about that, she relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder. He wasn't going to badger her about that. He'd spanked her for it but then he'd let it go. Reeve hadn't forgotten his demand that she learn to ride. Yet he seemed to have forgiven her for lying.

  And, other than that discomfort in the behind she was feeling, it was sort of romantic riding from the church to the ranch on horseback. Newly wedded and there she was, seated in front of him with her arms tight around his waist, the wind in their hair. She felt a bliss she hadn't felt, a feeling she couldn't remember experiencing in so long.

  "Uh, uh—not so fast, young lady!" he called after helping her down from off Twister.

  Now what? Melanie squealed and laughed when he swept her up in his arms, carrying her over the porch. Gently, with the toe of his boot, he pushed open the door. Once inside, with her still in his arms and hers wrapped around his neck, he kissed her with fervor and desire.

  This, she loved. He set her down onto her feet.

  "Our bedroom is upstairs," he informed her.

  "Oh? And what's that to me?" Melanie gave her head a haughty shake.

  "What's that to you? I'll tell you what that is to you, Mrs. Larson—"

  Our bedroom. Mrs. Larson. She ran for dear life up those stairs, laughing breathlessly, with him in hot pursuit. "It's our wedding day!" she reminded him as he flew into the bedroom and circled around to the other side of the bed.

  He tossed his hat, letting it fall to the floor. "I'm well aware of that, wife."

  "That means you can't spank me today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today."

  "Ah, but that's where you're wrong…" he assured her. Catching her by the waist, he yanked her against himself, taking another possessive kiss. "I decide if and when you're spanked. As a matter of fact, I think you might need a little warning spanking right about now!"

  Before she had time to think, he was seated on the edge of the bed with her draped over his lap. She gasped, suddenly panicky. Hadn't they been teasing each other? Just having a little fun? Couldn't she play with him that way?

  But then he tickled her and she broke into hysterical giggles.

  "You're ticklish," he observed soberly. "Very good to know! I can definitely use that against you."

  "Stop!" she hollered between fits of laughter.

  "You're right. I do need to stop. Before we do anything else, you'll need that warning we talked about."

  "Oh. Oh, but—"

  He yanked up her dress and petticoats, tossing both over her waist. Down came her bloomers. Aware that her flesh was fully bared, she held her breath, feeling both embarrassed and vulnerable.

  "Well, Mrs. Larson, that is one magnificent… bottom."

  Melanie snickered. "Were you about to call it something else?"

  "Just about. But I didn't. I'll not have you use that kind of language, either."

  No matter how rough and calloused his hand was from work, it still soothed her as it caressed her cheeks, sore from sitting on that horse. Melanie lifted her head, holding onto his legs.

  "Let's see, I can't lie. I can't cuss," she recited. "I can't pout, and I'd better learn how to ride a horse. That's a lot of rules you're giving me."

  "And you'll be a good girl and follow them all."

  "Oh, yeah? Well, that depends on—ow!" That loud smack landing on her rear surprised her more than it stung.

  In seconds, his hand again soothed her. "You were saying, my love?" His fingers drifted down further, finding her moistened.

  "I was… I was saying that—"

  Another spank, hard enough to make her jump, yet only hard enough to make her right cheek tingle with a light sting. She reached back and covered his hand with hers. "I was saying I'll try and be a good girl."

  Her bad girl purr was having an effect on him. She could feel the rock-hard arousal in his pants right under her pelvic area.

  "That's what I like to hear." His hand rained down on her left cheek, winning a little yelp and then a moan from her. "There. Now that cheek's as rosy as the other one. One more should do it…Ah, make that five. Nice, round number."

  Five more smacks connected with her behind. The fifth stung more than the others. Melanie squirmed on his lap, thoroughly excited, even while breathing in a sigh as he rubbed and patted her bottom lovingly. His fingers traveled back down, fondling her and driving her crazy. Then he helped her up and seated her on his lap.

  * * * * *

  She was his. If she wasn't before, she was now. She kissed him urgently, with no fear or reservation as to what was about to happen between them. A bride would typically have been more bashful, even modestly trying to hide herself.

  Not that little vixen. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and she wasn't shy about it, either. He very nearly tore that dress off her, struggling to free himself from his own clothes. Reeve tossed her lightly back onto the mattress, savoring the sight of her naked body.

  And then he had his way with her.

  Reeve restrained himself as best he could, but it was as if a wildfire was igniting inside him. Still, for his bride's sake, he took his time.

  For a woman who'd never been with a man, she certainly followed her instincts without seeming inhibited. She knew how to kiss him, how to touch him, how to relax in his arms as he penetrated her.

  As if she had been with a man before.

  He pushed that thought from his mind. He wouldn't ask her; he wouldn't ruin the moment with such an ugly accusation. At the moment, did it even matter? There was harmony to their movements. With every thrust he gave, her body moved in unison with his.<
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  He reached down, stroking her as he continued moving inside her. Pleasuring her, causing her to hold him tighter, to nibble on his shoulder until the climax came. It was like an explosion inside his body, heightened even more by the fact that she wasn't far behind, crying out with him.

  Reeve collapsed in her arms and she nestled against him. Her body sculpted around his, she was quiet, trying to catch her breath. He stared at her, clumsily grasping a handful of her hair to kiss.

  "The men are out there, working?" she asked.

  He hadn't even thought to tell her. He'd been too busy, wanting his urges satisfied and wanting to satisfy hers. How long had it been since he'd been with a woman? And never at all with one who'd made his head spin like Melanie had just done.

  "There's no one in the house but you and me," Reeve promised.

  He didn't really want to talk. And the heck with the work he'd mentioned that had to be done. All of those things could wait until later.

  What he wanted most was to hold onto her. To make love to her again, until the sun set in the sky above the mountains in the distance.

  She was supposed to be a wife. A companion. A woman to bear him children.

  But from the moment he saw her on that train platform, and even more now that he had bedded her and been inside her, Melanie Cranford had become his lover.

  Melanie Larson, he corrected himself as he kissed her again. His beautiful, sweet—and sensuous—wife, Mrs. Larson.

  * * * * *

  Common sense told Reeve that a pampered city lady didn't have much use for guns and rifles. That was the thing that puzzled him while watching his bride of less than two days shooting both style of weapons just as well as most men he'd known.

  Seeing a female shoot a gun shouldn't have made his body recall the hours he'd spent in the bedroom with her, yet it did. Wearing a leisure dress with her hair pinned back, she'd tried to talk her way out of it, claiming she had work to do. Reeve had incorrectly assumed she'd exaggerated about that skill, the way she had about horseback riding.

  He set up targets for her out behind the house. That woman had hit them all, emptying the revolver's cylinder twice. Eli watched at Reeve's side, marveling.

  "I'd say she's as good as you," the seasoned ranch hand stage-whispered.

  "Oh. Well, I don't know about that," Reeve muttered.

  "I do. And I'm saying she's as good as you."

  Apparently, Melanie overheard them. She smirked and dangled the empty gun over her shoulder, turning at the waist to holler, "Satisfied, my darling husband?"

  "No. Now the rifle." His response was almost businesslike.

  Eli Sherwood sniffed and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm hoping the lady cooks as good as she shoots. So far, that seems to be the case."

  Reeve frowned, setting his hands on his waist as his new wife exchanged the gun for the rifle. Breakfast had been good, he readily admitted. Simple, but good. Melanie had rustled up eggs and toast made from the bread she'd gotten up early to bake. At the table, she'd mentioned she wanted to do some cleaning and more baking, and she had already planned out what she would be making for supper that evening. Eli, understandably, was pleased to be done with a chore he had always strictly considered woman's work.

  And Melanie, to her credit, was at home in the kitchen. Reeve suspected she would also do anything to avoid getting up on a horse again. As a matter of principle, he wouldn't be letting that happen.

  "Look at her," he whispered to Eli. "Does that make any sense to you? It doesn't to me."

  "Somebody taught her to do that."

  That realization irked him. "She says her father did."

  "Well, then. There you have it. Or maybe Mrs. Larson isn't the pampered girl you think she is."

  Melanie held her own with the Springfield rifle, but she didn't delay when she was done. Resting the barrel over her slim shoulder, she walked the short distance to where her husband stood beside the ranch hand.

  "That's it?" she asked.

  "That's… yeah." Reeve accepted the rifle from her hands.

  "I believe I'm due a reward for this."

  Eli's laugh was full. Grudgingly, Reeve grinned.

  "I'll see to it you get your reward," he promised.

  "All right, then. I trust you." She was being saucy again, something else she was particularly skilled at. She nodded at Eli. "I'll be in the house. Also want to make some cakes and take them into town for Mae and the girls, but I might not get to that until tomorrow, though."

  "Cakes for Mae and the girls?" Reeve repeated.

  "Just want to say thank you for letting me stay with them." She touched the cameo brooch, the gift from Janie, pinned to the lapel of her dress and said again, "I'll be inside if you men need me."

  "Well, she's thoughtful. And handy with a gun. Good cook, too." Eli winked. "Looks like you got a good one. Don't know how close you want that friendship between her and the, uh, girls."

  "She won't have a lot of time for that, anyway. But she is a good one, you're right."

  A good woman… and something of a mystery.

  Melanie hadn't mentioned much about her family. She'd had plenty of opportunity, both the night before in bed with Reeve and at breakfast earlier that day. The boys had been curious, asking her about her life back in Maryland. All Reeve had been able to gather was that her older brother, fighting for the Confederacy, had died during the war. Both her parents were dead, with her mother's death from consumption being the most recent. Melanie did, however, have one remaining sibling, an unmarried schoolteacher sister named Olivia.

  Other than mentioning nonchalantly that Olivia was older—she'd just recently turned thirty—and the fact that she was awaiting a letter from her, Melanie had said nothing more about her family. She'd changed the subject, asking Reeve about himself, and in the morning, she'd chatted with the boys about their life rather than her own.

  While there were people, both men and women, who could talk someone's ear off about themselves, Melanie wasn't one of them. Reeve admired that about her. He was already finding things to admire about her, yet he couldn't quite get past the feeling that his wife was hiding something.

  Eli headed back to work and Reeve went to saddle one of the horses when he saw Melanie once more emerge from the house. With her own movement and a passing mountain breeze, the skirt of her dress swayed and billowed around her.

  Women are a necessity, the preacher had told him when they happened to meet in town a few days earlier. Woman is a helpmate to the man.

  Women were actually proving to be more than that in Garner Falls. There weren't many, but the ones already there were already making a difference. They'd even enlisted Mae's help with their first project, the building of a schoolhouse.

  Women could also be trouble. A diversion, too. And in Melanie's case, an enigma.

  "Thought you had work to do inside?" He smiled to let her know he wasn't scolding her, just curious.

  "I do. But I just wanted to take a moment for Jimmy."

  "Jimmy? Who's Jimmy?"

  "My horse."

  Suddenly Reeve noticed the carrot in her hand. He stopped what he was doing to watch her enter the stables. Peering into each section, she found the horse he had given her.

  "Jimmy. You're naming him Jimmy?"

  "He's my horse, isn't he? Then I can name him anything I want."

  He followed her into the stables, more perturbed than he was letting on.

  "I think that's a… nice name for a horse," he agreed.

  "Well, good." She offered him a sweet smile.

  "Jimmy, in honor of your brother?"

  "No. I thought about naming him after my brother, but his name was Arthur. Kind of a little too serious a name for a horse, I think."

  "True."

  "So I named him after a boy I used to know."

  "Ah." What was he supposed to say? No, I forbid you to name him after some other man. What if that "man" was her first little beau, some freckle-faced, seven-year-
old missing his front teeth? Reeve tamped down on his first stirrings of jealousy, an emotion that was foreign to him.

  She wasn't giving any more information about this mysterious Jimmy. He preferred to believe it was some skinny, redheaded kid.

  "I didn't think you wanted him," he confessed. "Thought I made a mistake in giving him to you."

  "No, no mistake. You gave him to me, so I love him."

  She was cautious in feeding the carrot to the horse. As the animal ate it from her hand, she slowly lifted her free hand to lovingly stroke his bangs.

  At that moment, Reeve couldn't have cared less who the real Jimmy was.

  Chapter Five

  June 14, 1871

  Dear Melanie,

  It gave me such joy to receive your letter. I believe I've read it a dozen times already! So glad to hear you reached Montana safely and even happier to hear your new rancher husband is so good-looking. I don't know that I would do as well living out there, but I am certainly going to try and visit you sometime in the coming weeks…

  "How wonderful!" Melanie bit her lower lip, realizing she'd startled the older woman to her left. She couldn't wait to read Olivia's letter, having torn open the envelope the minute she received it from the post office. She was already behind schedule enough, having gone into town to see Janie and to buy flour and other supplies. True, lunch for the hands had been late two days ago, and she'd received a stern lecture from Reeve, in addition to a warning that if it happened again, she would be spanked.

  But… her sister's letter had arrived! It hadn't taken very long, either, just a little over a week to arrive from Maryland. Even more exciting, Olivia was coming for a visit. Before running her errands, Melanie had stopped in to see Janie, who had been sick—nothing serious, but her stomach had been bothering her. Thankfully, Reeve seemed understand her need to leave the house every now and then, especially on such a beautiful day.

  Yet when she finally arrived home on the wagon, she found to her dismay that the clock in the kitchen read a full two hours later than she'd expected.