She opened her eyes and met his through her fingers.
"Have you never made love with the lamps on? Or in the daylight?"
She'd lived with Joe for more than a year before he'd had to leave. In all that time he'd never seen her naked. He'd never asked. She'd never considered it. But now … now here was Tye wanting to look at her … and asking. "No."
Minutes ticked by. Tye ran a hand along her arm, up over her shoulder and, nudging her hand away, bracketed her face with his palm. She looked into his deep blue eyes and plainly saw the wonder and the need. "You're so beautiful, Meg. It's a shame to hide your beauty in the darkness—as long as you're sure you're not ashamed of doing this with me."
Was she ashamed of experiencing this all-consuming, frantic need and pleasure with him? He started to move away, but she clutched his shoulder and held him fast.
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her willing lips again. His kiss, always so tender, always so simultaneously stirring and fulfilling, eroded her qualms.
She laid her hand tenderly along his granite-cut jaw.
He trailed kisses along her chin, her throat, her shoulder, gooseflesh rising along her skin. His hot, moist lips found and kissed the tip of one breast and the skin beaded, leaving Meg anticipating more. He didn't disappoint her, pulling her nipple into his mouth and creating new and white-hot fire in her limbs, in her belly and lower.
No, she wasn't ashamed of this incredible new awareness. It was simply foreign to her experience and her thinking.
"You're so beautiful." His voice, hoarse and low, vibrated through his chest and against her ribs. "So smooth and so soft everywhere, Meg." He ran his palm over her hip and her belly, slid his fingers into her curls, and shamelessly, she opened herself to his glorious touch. "Do you like this?"
She felt beautiful when he touched her, kissed her, looked at her. "Yes."
"I just wanted to hear you say it."
A ripple coursed through her.
He suckled her other breast. "I always want to make it good for you," he said.
She opened her eyes and found his earnest expression focused on her face. "It's good, Tye."
"The way it was the last time. I want to make it that good for you."
She absorbed his words, his meaning, another kind of shame ebbing through her veins. He knew? He knew of those unspeakable sensations she'd never even placed coherent thoughts with? Meg wanted to turn away, more to hide this carnal need than her face and body. She raised a trembling hand to her eyes as if she could mask her mortification.
"No, look at me. Keep your eyes open." Tye took her hand and drew it to his lips. He kissed each finger, took the tip of one between his lips and gently sucked the pad against his tongue.
Heady sensations rocked Meg's senses, and her already melting body liquefied. Her fluttering breath caught in her throat.
"What is it that makes you want to hide from me?" he asked.
She shook her head. There were no words. There'd never even been conscious thought before.
"Do you know what it is I want for you?"
"I—I'm not sure. I don't think so."
"Meg, you don't have to be ashamed or embarrassed. It's as natural as breathing or eating."
Meg's skin burned hotter. "Is that true?"
"It's true." He drew one finger deliberately up the inside of her thigh and back down, a slow, torturous route, and leaned to press a kiss to the inside of her knee.
Meg buried the instinctive reflex to draw her knees together and felt every inch of her skin quiver. She'd never known this mad crush of need, had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted these frightening new sensations Tye had brought to life. His skin glowed golden in the lamplight, his blue eyes filled with passion.
The muscles of his strong shoulders and neck were defined by the shadows the lamp created. She ran her hands over his skin, relishing his strength and maleness. If she was as beautiful to him as he was to her, she understood his desire to see her.
The dark furring across his chest snared her attention, and she raked her fingers through the silky mass.
With his clever fingers and seeking tongue, Tye urged her to the very edge of rapture.
An urgent sound escaped her, and she raised her hips.
He moved upward, his breath puckering her nipple. "You're ready for me, Meg."
"Yes."
"Now?" he asked.
"Yes."
His hard limbs moved over her, his hair-roughened skin sliding against hers, and she pulled him to her with a greed and a quivering urgency she didn't stop to think about so that his less-than-gentle entry was her own fault. That very roughness was the catalyst that sent her over the edge.
"This is it, Meg," he said, not only knowing what was happening to her but aiding the cataclysmic feeling with prolonged and forceful thrusts. "This is it."
She cried out and dug her fingers into his back, riding the rippling wave of ecstasy.
Tye slowed his movements then, kissed her face and her neck and the crest of each dewy breast. She opened her eyes and discovered his caressing smile.
He kissed the corner of her mouth and she turned into the kiss instinctively, wrapping her arms and legs around him.
He gave himself the pleasure of long, slow, steady strokes that varied in intensity and tempo. He ended the kiss, lifting himself to look at her face. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, slid the tip into her mouth against her teeth and rubbed gently until she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his salty skin.
His eyes darkened. Strangely enough, Meg wasn't embarrassed by his earthy appetite or his frank and open pleasure in her body and her mouth, nor by this uninhibited, soul-rocking union. His face, his neck and shoulders were rigid with the fervor of his purpose, and she tested the muscle and sinew beneath his skin, finding his body toned and solid.
His strength was a delicious contrast against her softness. Meg bit the pad of his thumb and ran her tongue over it, eliciting his groan.
He pulled his hand away, gripped her hips hard and spent himself inside her, against her, around her, her name a litany on each gusted breath.
He lay with his head on her breast, his palm flattened on her belly, their hearts slowing, their damp skin cooling.
"That was it," he said softly. "That was what I wanted for you."
Meg knew exactly what he meant now, but she said nothing.
"Meg?" When she remained silent, Tye raised his head. Her dark honey gaze turned to his. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her temples. He threaded the hair away from her skin. She seemed so embarrassed by his words, he would have thought her innocent if he hadn't known better. "It embarrasses you to talk about this?"
Her gaze moved to his shoulder, and she nodded.
"But you were married. This happened with Joe, right?"
She brushed his damp shoulder with her fingertips. "Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"A—a few times."
He studied her flushed face with intensity now.
"It … just happens," she said defensively. "It's not something I can control."
Tye absorbed those words. Those startling and innocent words. "When it happened … with Joe … did he know about it? Did he try to make it happen?"
She shook her head. "I don't think he knew. I'm sure he didn't."
"It is something you can control, Meg, my heart. By telling me what you like and when to wait for you."
"You mean it's okay?"
"It's more than okay. I don't think we should ever stop until it's been okay for you." His beautiful lips curved up into a smile. "I've already learned some of the things you like and I plan to discover as many more as I can."
"This isn't shameful, is it, Tye? What we've done? I mean, doing this isn't just for making babies?"
"I think the good Lord assured man's continuance by creating baby-making so pleasurable. If He didn't want us to enjoy it, He would have thought of something else, or He wouldn't have said we'd
be one flesh."
She laughed. Tye turned his nose against her breast and inhaled. He reached for a fistful of her hair and pulled the skein against his nose and mouth. Earthy and honest, she thought, threading her own fingers into his hair and understanding his tactile pleasure with enlightenment.
Of all the things he'd done for her, this newfound sense of freedom was perhaps the best. She didn't have to be ashamed of anything with Tye.
A tiny niggle of guilt tried to wedge its way into her consciousness. Joe would have wanted her to be happy. But would he have wanted Tye to reach her on a level that he never had?
Meg tamped down that doubt. He would have wanted her to be happy. And Tye made her happy.
Tye got up and extinguished the lamps.
For a fleeting second, she wondered where her nightgown had flown. But then Tye eased behind her, adjusted his body so that he cradled her from behind, her head pillowed on his arm, and Meg closed her eyes in sleepy contentment she'd never before known.
She woke during the night, his heat and his hardness a titillating distraction from sleep.
"Are you awake, Tye?"
He kissed the back of her neck. "Do you know no one calls me Tye except you?"
"Eve does."
"Because she mimics you."
"Don't you like it?"
His hand slid up her belly and cupped her breast. "I love it."
"I have to tell you, I wondered if you'd ever call me anything but ma'am."
He pressed openmouthed kisses along her shoulder and sent shivers along her arms and to her breasts. "My mama taught me to be respectful."
"Who taught you all these other enjoyable things?"
"A gentleman never tells."
"I told you about me and Joe." The inflection in her voice betrayed the seriousness of her question.
He drew lazy circles around her nipple. "My mother was a whore, Meg. Those were the women I grew up around. None of the girls at school would give me the time of day."
"And Lottie? Was she someone special?"
"We were friends. When no one else cares if you live or die, any friend is special."
"But you didn't marry her. Was that because of her … occupation?"
"Because I didn't love her."
"And she didn't have a ranch."
His hand stilled.
"I didn't mean it like that, Tye. I just meant there's more than one reason to get married. You don't have to love the person."
No, but you should at least have the hope that someday they will love you, he thought.
She surprised him by turning to face him, guiding his hands back to her breasts, then placing her hand on his shoulder. "You know what I like now, Tye. How about what you like? Can you tell me?"
She discovered their likes were mutual.
"Eve said you promised her a 'picwic,'" Meg said the following noon when Tye came in for lunch.
They exchanged a look that held secrets, a look of awakening and wonder only lovers share, and Tye warmed all the way to his toes. He'd never known the joy he'd experienced with Meg. If only—he caught himself and replied, "A what?"
"A 'picwic.' I figured out what she meant when she said you told her we'd take food and drinks and eat out-of-doors."
"Yes." He grinned, hanging his hat and taking a seat. "I guess I did promise her that."
"Why don't we do it this Saturday?"
Tye thought over the mental list of things he had to do, then cast them aside. Nothing was more important than his new family. "All right. Saturday."
Gus and Eve entered the kitchen, and Gus helped Eve onto the bench beside Tye.
A rancher had sent word that his mares were ready to cover, and Tye planned to take over the stallion that afternoon. "Meg," he said, buttering a slice of bread. "Joe had those liver chestnuts sent to the ranch while he was down south, didn't he?"
She spooned gravy over his plate of biscuits. "A couple of men delivered them."
"They didn't happen to give you any papers, did they?"
"Not that I remember. That was almost two years ago. Why?"
"There's something unusual about those animals. They appear to have some Arabian blood, but I'm not sure. They're fifteen hands high, but their heads are neat and their ears small, more ponylike."
"They're hardy animals," Gus said. "Healthy, and don't seem to mind weather. Admired 'em ever since they got here."
"They'd make great mounts if they were gelded," Tye commented, "but I have a feeling they're worth more as breeders. Joe never said anything about them?"
"I never saw Joe after he sent those horses home," she replied. "And he never mentioned them in his letters."
Tye sipped his coffee, absorbed in his thoughts.
"Maybe there's something I missed among his papers and things that were sent to me," she thought aloud.
"Will you look?"
"Now?"
"I'd really like to know."
She wiped her hands on her apron and left the room. Several minutes later, she returned with a pouch of papers. "Maybe there's something in here."
An odd sensation dipped in his belly at more evidence of how she'd preserved all of Joe's possessions. The letters and grooming items in her trunk came to mind.
Tye dismissed the painful thoughts, pulled a stack of records from the leather pouch and leafed through them. A few official-looking documents caught his eye and he examined them closely. "Hot damn!"
"Tye!" Meg admonished.
Tye ignored her and laughed aloud, waving his discovery for the others to see. "Yorkshire Flame," he read from the first paper. "A Welsh cob, listed in section D in the studbook. We've got us a papered stud." He looked up again. "I've read about this breed—they're mountain horses."
"What does this mean?" she asked. "They're really worth something?"
Tye flipped through the pages. "All three of them. Papers are officially signed by someone named Brescia. Looks like…"
"What?"
"Looks like Joe won 'em in a poker game."
"No," Meg said, her voice disbelieving. She'd never known Joe to gamble.
"Here's the man's signature." Tye held it out for her to see.
She took the paper and read it herself.
"Smart of ya to cover our mares with him," Gus commented with a raised eyebrow.
"You did?" Meg asked, looking up excitedly.
"They look like they'd have stamina as saddle horses," Tye said with a shrug. "Had to make some kind of choice."
"So now what?"
"Now when I take old Yorkshire Flame a-courtin', I show his papers, and we can get a handsome price for his services."
"Did Joe know how much they'd be worth?" Meg asked.
"'Course he did. This man wouldn't have put up valuable horses unless the stakes were high."
Meg stacked plates.
Tye went for his hat. "I'll be gone the rest of the day." I'll miss you, he wanted to say, but Gus was still picking up dishes, and the words seemed too familiar.
"We'll be waiting," she said, as though she too felt the desire to touch or say something more before they parted. His gaze drifted across her hair. Surely his feelings for her were blatant in his every look. He couldn't look at her without a gut-wrenching twist of unrequited love wrapping him in knots. What a pathetic idiot he'd become.
"Carry me outside to wave goodbye," Eve said, enviously free to show her need for affection.
Tye picked her up, hugged her and gave Meg a final nod. Turning, he left the house, relieved that Meg had saved Joe's papers but disturbed that, even in death, Joe was still providing for Meg better than he could.
He'd been quiet ever since he'd brought her the stud money, enough to pay another three-month banknote. The rancher he'd done business with told another, and by Saturday, they'd had to deposit the cash in the bank.
Meg thought he should have been dancing for joy. She herself sang and daydreamed as she did her chores. But it wasn't only the money. The money had been the icing
on the cake after their relationship had blossomed into intimacy.
She'd never known how exhilarating and wonderful it felt to cast one's inhibitions into the wind and enjoy another person wholeheartedly. Each morning she paused before the mirror and saw the change Gwynn had mentioned. She did look different. And she certainly felt different. She was so exhilarated some mornings, she couldn't even eat.
Meg set out their lunch on the blanket Tye had spread beneath a walnut tree and fixed places for the three of them.
"You was right, Tye!" Eve exclaimed. "Meg brung milk in a jar."
"Growing girls need their milk," he said with a smile.
"And I'm growing bigger," she said.
"You certainly are," Meg agreed. "You'll be big enough to go to school next fall."
"Will I?"
Tye frowned but said nothing.
They ate their lunch, an ordinary meal made special by Eve's exuberant delight. The sun filtered down through the leaves, speckling their heads and shoulders with golden light and bone-penetrating warmth. Meg couldn't remember being so happy.
Tye had initiated her to physical delights and taught her lovemaking was nothing to be ashamed of. Eve's presence added a cheer and a fullness to their home and their every activity that filled Meg's heart in another way.
And they had money in the bank. For the first time in several years Meg could breathe easily. There was enough for the next note and some improvements around the ranch. She could even buy material for dresses and order Eve a doll from a catalog.
What could possibly be better?
After eating, they threw walnut shells that the squirrels had left last fall, seeing who could throw the farthest. Tye let Meg win. He chased Eve across the tall grass and hid from her behind an outcropping of red rocks.
She found him, and they again chased one another. Finally, exhausted, Eve drank the remainder of the milk and fell asleep on the blanket, using Tye's thigh for a pillow.
He finger-combed the girl's hair from her forehead.
"Is something wrong?" Meg asked finally. He'd made exquisite love to her each night. He'd gone about his daily routine each day. But something didn't feel quite right.
"What could be wrong, Meg?" he asked.
JOE'S WIFE Page 18