“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.
SURELY 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 c
onsummation 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.
“Is she old enough to eat pancakes?”
Jennifer shrugged and picked up her fork. “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” She cut a bite and offered it, and with a quick move, Susan pulled it from the fork and popped it into her mouth.
“You little dickens.” Jennifer could not help the laughter that escaped as she cut another piece. Again the baby seized the bite, but this time looked over her shoulder and aimed it at Jennifer’s mouth instead. Automatically she took it from the tiny fingers and tasted strawberry jam.
“One for you and one for me.” An old game she’d played with a neighbor’s child came back to her, and Susan seemed to be acquainted with it, for she squealed and pointed at the plate. Jennifer did as she’d been instructed by the little tyrant and they ate their breakfast in short order.
Lucas rose, his plate cleaned, six pancakes in his stomach and picked up his coffee cup, draining it. “I’m going to the mine. I’ll be back for supper.”
“All right.” Unwilling to make a gesture of reconciliation, Jennifer lifted her gaze to his and nodded.
He circled the table and bent to her, lifting her chin, when she would not have offered her face for his kiss, and leaning over farther to press his lips against hers. She tasted the syrup he’d eaten, caught the scent of his coffee, and closed her eyes, feeling the tears gathering behind her eyelids.
She would not cry. No matter the urge, she wouldn’t be weak in front of him, would not allow him the sight of her tears as he left.
“Keep an eye on things, Mrs. Bronson,” Lucas said, as if he knew the battle between himself and his wife was far from over and he feared that Jennifer might flee the arena before he returned.
His housekeeper nodded. “I surely will, Luc. I surely will.”
And then as the door closed behind him and he headed to the barn and his horse, Jennifer stood and held the baby in her arms, crossing to the window to watch his progress. He walked from the wide doors in a moment, leading his gelding, his saddle gripped in his right hand. The horse stood with his reins touching the ground as Lucas tossed a bit of blanket across the animal’s back and then put on the saddle, with a few quick movements pulling the cinch taut, then dropping the stirrup into place.
He mounted and, with a quick look at the house and an up-lifted hand, rode from the yard. Traveling across the fence line and beyond the pasture, he followed a trail leading through the woods to the mine field up the canyon.
“Are you coming with me?” Jennifer asked, still looking from the window.
“I won’t turn you out on your own, girl. And I just told Luc I’d keep an eye on you, didn’t I?”
“You’ll have to do that in town then. And if it’s still available, I’d like to take up residence in your house, Ida.”
“What did he do to you? You look like a dyin’ duck in a thunderstorm.”
“Well, that sounds unpleasant.” Jennifer laughed and turned around. Susan’s hand touched her aunt’s cheek, as if she enjoyed the smile that dwelt there.
“You know what I mean, Jen. But I just now decided I don’t want to know what he did. Some things are none of my business. And you’re not limping and you don’t have any bruises to be seen, so I figure he didn’t hurt you much.”
“Oh, he hurt me, all right. Not where it shows maybe, but his words cut deep.”
“That’ll happen. Men don’t realize how ignorant they sound sometimes. But Luc is usually pretty much on target, Jen. Maybe you ought to rethink what happened between the two of you. I doubt the man would purposely hurt you, either by word or deed.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to pack up and leave. We’ll use the wagon and he can come pick it up when he wants it back.”
“He’ll probably want to stick you in it before he heads for home with it.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not coming back.”
Ida shrugged and shook her head. “I’ll go along with you, and I’ve already told you that my house is at your disposal. Give me that baby and you can put your things together and get hers gathered up, too.”
“All right.” Resisting the urge to look from the window to see if Lucas was still in sight, Jennifer transferred Susan to the woman’s arms and left the room.
LUCAS WAS HOT and weary, his clothes dirty and disheveled, and he was in dire need of a bath and a shave. Recalling his beard rubbing against Jennifer’s tender skin early in the morning made him vow to shave every evening, come what may. There’d be no more reddened skin from his whiskers if he could help it.
He rubbed down his horse, propped the saddle against the wall and hung the bridle in the tack room, then put the animal in his stall. Scooping a can of grain into the horse’s feed bucket before he left the barn he sighed wearily. The walk to the house seemed longer than usual and he moved a bit faster, suddenly anxious to see Jennifer, to gain an impression of her mood, to plan his strategy for the evening.
He’d be more gentlemanly tonight, give her a chance to— His thoughts broke off as he climbed the steps to the porch and noted the dark kitchen in front of him. There should have been a light glowing from the window. It wasn’t quite dark outside, but nevertheless, Ida would have lit the lamp by now.
His heart pounded in his chest as he turned the doorkn
ob and shoved his way into the house. No sounds of voices met his ear, no scents of supper met his nose and not a trace did he see of the woman he’d thought of all day.
“Jennifer? Where are you?” Even as he called her name, he sensed her absence from his house. She was gone.
He sat on a chair and took a deep breath. She was gone, and little wonder. He’d treated her harshly, taken her with the force of a man set on seduction, pitted his strength against hers and won the battle. She was small, soft and fragile and he’d treated her like a woman without feelings. And if ever there was a female with emotions aplenty, it was his wife.
He rose and looked from the back door. Through the dusk, he looked toward the lean-to on the side of the barn, where his farm wagon should have been sitting. And then beyond it to the pasture where there was no sign of the two horses he used to plow and pull his wagon and other equipment.
He should have noticed when he’d rode up that they weren’t there, but as weary as he was, as ready for the comfort of a warm bath and a hot meal, he’d looked neither right nor left, only headed for the barn and given his gelding the comfort of his stall.
“She’s in town. I’ll bet she took Mrs. Bronson and Susan and hightailed it into town.” He spoke loudly, as if someone might hear his pronouncement, and then sagged a bit, thinking ahead to what he must do tonight before he found any rest in his bed. He’d have to make tracks to Thunder Canyon, seek out his wayward wife and haul her home.
If necessary, he’d leave Mrs. Bronson there with Susan till morning, and just cart Jennifer with him on his horse. She’d have a royal fit, but she could just holler all she wanted to. There was no way he was leaving her in town and sit here cooling his heels while she gloated over her escape.
For that described exactly what she’d done. Made an escape from him, from the home he’d given her and the love— He examined his thoughts. What love? What on earth was he thinking? He’d never told her he loved her, never even considered the idea. And now an overwhelming sadness swept through him. He might never have a chance to say the words, he realized. For if Jennifer had truly decided to leave him permanently, it might be that she’d left for New York City already.
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