Sometimes, he took it slow, but mostly Clay liked to ride me hard and fast until I was frenzied with desire. Now was such a time. I managed to lay still for a few minutes, but as my pleasure mounted, I couldn’t help but reach up and scratch my nails down his back, moaning as I did so.
“Put your claws away, woman,” he growled at me, but I could see by his lustful look that he’d liked it.
“Faster,” I urged in a breathy voice.
Clay chuckled before obliging, thrusting faster as I rose my hips to meet him. When my orgasm came, it was shattering. I felt like I’d flown out of my body, soaring toward the clouds, but when I came, it was like tumbling backwards. Lucky for me, Clay was always there to catch me. I lay in the crook of his arm, panting, and he didn’t make a move to leave until I’d settled down.
“Where you goin’?” I asked, yawning.
“I’m gonna wash off and get dressed, darlin’.”
I sat up then and slid between his legs, pushing on his thighs to make room for myself. “No need for that. I can help you there.” With a devilish look in my eye, I lowered my head to his cock. I began to lick his shaft, tasting the saltiness of his cum as I did so.
“If you had your way, I’d be late goin’ to work every mornin’.”
“I don’t see you complainin’ much,” I observed.
“No sass out of you, Maggie.”
Normally, his stern voice would warn me to stop, but as his cock stirred under my tongue, hardening once more as I cleaned it, I could only laugh to myself.
* * *
As I cooked breakfast, I hummed to myself. I hummed nearly every time I thought of my husband. It was an amazing thing that we’d been married two months already; time surely had gone by quick.
“Mornin’,” Clay patted my behind as he walked behind me. “Is that breakfast I smell?”
“Well, it’s that or your laundry,” I teased.
“Behave yourself this morning,” he growled, turning me to face him. “Or there will be consequences.”
“Oh, I just bet,” I fired back. “The kind of ‘consequences’ that end up with me on my back and you—”
“Maggie!” he gasped in mock-surprise. “Watch your tongue, young lady. Where did my innocent little bride go to?”
I leaned forward and whispered in his ear things I never thought I’d be bold enough to say. He threw back his head and laughed—a sound I’d come to love in the past two months—and grabbed me, beginning to dance me around the room. I giggled and protested as he whirled me around. Then, suddenly feeling dizzy, I put a hand to his chest.
“Stop, please,” I gasped.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?”
“Nothing.” I inhaled sharply and let my breath out slowly. “I think I’ll be alright. I just feel a little dizzy, is all. It’ll pass.”
His brow immediately furrowed in concern. “Why don’t you sit a spell, sweetheart? I can manage breakfast.”
I shook my head, attempting a grin. “You know your flapjacks are nowhere near as good as mine.”
“Choose your battles, my heart. This is one you’re not going to win.”
“You’ll be late,” I protested weakly.
“I’m already late, sweetheart, you saw to that.” He winked at me. “Now, I said sit.”
A retort was on my lips, but when I opened my mouth, my stomach heaved. Clapping my hands to my mouth, I ran for the front door, makin’ it outside just in time to vomit over the railing.
Clay was right behind me, patting my back as I retched again and again. He stayed with me until I stopped and then washed my face with a damp cloth. “You should lie down.”
“Don’t be silly,” I replied, my voice strained. “I should—”
“Do exactly as I say,” he replied in the raised, firm voice that I’d learned meant I couldn’t argue without expecting a spanking. “I’ll bring you breakfast in a minute.”
I groaned, feeling like I might be sick all over again at the mere thought of food. I let him help me out of my dress and was just about to slip under the covers when I smelt smoke. “Clay! The flapjacks!”
“Oh, you see it now, don’t you, Mags? Divine intervention to tell you mine are better.” With a wink, he dashed off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with my queasy stomach.
I could hardly abide any food that day, or the day after, but Clay didn’t give me a choice. He stood guard over me twice a day until I ate at least a piece or two of bread. It was all I could stomach—no matter what else he made, even my favorite foods made me run for the chamber pot if I smelled them. As the days went by and I stayed in bed except to use the chamber pot or vomit, Clay became increasingly worried.
When it had been a week, he stared down at me with a furrowed brow. “You’re paler,” he announced, his tone clipped. “I’m goin’ for the doctor.”
“No, Clay, don’t be silly,” I protested feebly. “We can hardly—”
“Maggie.”
I moaned, having long since learned that when he said my name in that no-nonsense voice of his, it was pointless to argue. It was his polite way of telling me to hush up. “One more day,” I pleaded. “Please. I really am starting to feel better.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“Please, Clay. Tomorrow, truly. I’ll ask you to go if I’m not well.”
“You sure?”
“I promise.”
“Alright,” he sighed, relenting and unhappy about it. “People are going to start sayin’ I’m soft, Maggie.
“If anyone says that, I’ll show them my red bottom, for you never stop spanking me.”
“You always deserve it,” he said fondly, stroking my cheek. “Alright. Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed, smiling at him gratefully before I closed my eyes.
* * *
The next day, I did feel better. I was able to get out of bed and walk around a bit and even felt up to eating a few bites of egg and bread. Clay was cautiously optimistic, but as the day wore on, I only felt stronger. I did vomit a time or two, but he happened to be out of the house, so I didn’t mention it. I knew I was getting better.
It was two more weeks before I realized the source of my bouts of dizziness and my queasy stomach. I nearly toppled over when I put the pieces together. I’d never thought I’d be so lucky, and us so newly married, too!
Clay had gone out to the fields that morning and when he came in, he found me in the rocking chair, knitting. He came in and kissed me before he looked at the ball of yellow yarn at my feet. “What’s that you’ve got there, Mags? Socks? They’re a mite small for me, don’t you reckon?”
I smiled, my private, serene smile. “That they are, dear husband.”
He arched a brow. “Then what on earth are they for?”
“A baby.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He slapped his knee. “I near forgot that Libby is due soon. Will you be going to help her, when her time comes?”
“Yes. But these socks aren’t for Libby, Clay.”
“You don’t say? Who for, then?”
I stood up, dropping the needles and the half-formed pair of socks into the rocker. I smiled at him, wide and luminous as I patted my still-flat stomach. “I’ll give you three guesses. If you don’t get it right, you’ll admit my flapjacks are best.”
Clay just stared at me, and I could tell the exact moment it hit him, because he began to blink rapidly, his mouth opening and moving, but no sound emerging. “Maggie!” he managed finally, making me laugh. “You mean it?”
I’d barely said yes when I found myself swept into his arms, lifted up in the air and twirled around as he whooped with joy.
“A baby? Maggie, a baby!”
“A baby,” I echoed, laughing.
“I… you beautiful, wonderful woman, you! You… you’ve made me so happy, Maggie. So very happy.”
“Me too,” I agreed softly, knowing my whole face was shining, filled to the brim with happiness. “Me too.”
It was a rainy, dreary night that Wesley came running at breakneck speed to tell me Libby’s time had come.
“You’ve gotta come with me,” he said, talking so quickly his words tripped over one another. “She’s in pain.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that all women felt pain, but one look at his pale, stricken face and I decided against it. I nodded and turned to Clay. “I’ll be back in a few days.”
He grabbed me in a hug, pressing me against his chest. I leaned against him, feeling his heart as it beat against my palm. “Take care of yourself, y’hear? And take care of…”
I smiled up at him, the words not needing to be spoken between us. It had been almost three weeks since we’d learned that I was with child, and our excitement seemed to grow each day. “I will.”
“See that you do.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, reaching over to brush a few strands of hair out of my eyes. “Come back to me soon, wife.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss him before turning to my brother and following him out the door. Once we got moving, I had to scurry to keep up with him. At the rate he was going, he could very well take off without realizing I wasn’t in the buggy with him.
“Hurry,” he snapped at me over his shoulder, as though I wasn’t moving quick as my legs would carry me.
I ignored his sharpness as I climbed into the buggy behind him. It was to be expected in a father-to-be. I’d barely gotten my footing when he snapped the reins, sending me sprawling. “Wesley!” I screeched. “Be careful, please!”
“I’ll be careful when we get there,” he said crisply.
“I’m not sure we will, the way you’re driving these horses,” I said, scrambling to the seat beside him. “If you’re not more careful, brother dear, we won’t get there at all, and what help will we be to Libby if you topple this buggy?”
He cut his eyes at me and didn’t reply, but he did slow down. A mite.
“You really do love her, don’t you,” I said softly in wonder. His white-knuckled grip on the reins told me that if I couldn’t see it plain.
“You’ll see,” he said, striving for lightness. “Just wait. Clay will be the same when your time comes.”
“Well, in that case I beg you to do the driving. I don’t want to be a widow before my child is born.”
Wesley’s anxiety began to rub off and I found myself getting nervous as we rode for the family farm. Was she truly as bad off as he said? Or was he merely frantic in the way of first-time fathers? I couldn’t be sure until I saw her for myself. Even then, if she was having a hard birth, there wouldn’t be much I’d be able to do for her. Despite our differences, I felt a pang when the thought hit me, for my brother if nothing else.
When we pulled up the dirt road that led to the house, I told Wesley to take me to the door and worry about the horses when I’d gone. Having caught his excitement, I jumped down without even waiting for him to help me down. I wasn’t sure I trusted him to help me just now anyhow.
I raced into my childhood home and heard the sounds of Libby’s keening before I’d even gotten the door good and open. I flew inside and followed the cries that were coming from their room. I burst into the door and took in the sight of Libby on the floor, her normally beautiful hair slick with sweat and her face drained and tired.
“I’m here!” I announced breathlessly.
“Thank God,” Libby ground out. “Maggie, tell this woman to get away from me.”
I looked in surprise at Abigail, who met my eyes stoically. “What’s she on about?”
“She’s in pain just now. She’ll say just ‘bout anything, trust me.”
“She’s cruel and heartless!” Libby managed between clenched teeth. “All… I want… is something to help the pain.”
I looked to Abigail again, but she shook her head. “Mama always said nothing for pain once the baby’s started comin’.”
I looked at the wan face of my sister-in-law and turned hard eyes to Abby. “What the devil is the point then?” I didn’t wait to see the shock on her face before I swept from the room.
“Where do y’think you’re goin’?” Wesley, who was pacing the parlor, demanded.
I ignored him and went to the kitchen, reaching for the bottle of whiskey the boys hid in the cabinet and we women pretended not to know about.
“Maggie? Is she alright, Maggie?” Wes asked, his face stark and stony despite his frantic voice.
“She’s gonna be just fine,” I assured him. “Leave it to me.”
I marched back into the room purposefully, kneeling beside Libby and bringing the bottle to her lips. “It’s gonna burn goin’ down, Libby, but it should help.”
“Thank you,” she gasped, though after she’d taken a sip, she winced.
“More,” I insisted. “This is the only thing we have right now.” As she continued to drink, I turned to Abigail. “When did it start?”
“Just an hour or so ago.”
“Last sip, honey.” I watched Libby swallow and reached for the bottle which I had to yank away. I stood up and walked toward Abigail, taking her arm and walking her to the window. “Is she gonna be alright? Wes is out his mind for worrying.”
“I couldn’t say, Maggie. I’ve been at a birth or two with my mama, and I’ve never seen a woman in pain so quick. It looks like this baby wants out now.”
I nodded briskly. “Alright then. Let’s do what we can to make her comfortable.” I walked back to Libby and knelt beside her, helping her sit up. Then I reached for the cloth Abby had put in a bowl of cool water. I wrung it out and used it to mop Libby’s forehead and neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“‘Course. Listen, Libby, you’re doing great. The baby is going to be here so soon and then you won’t even remember what all the fuss was about.”
Her face contorted with pain and she gasped before crying out. She screwed her eyes shut tight, clenching her fist. When the pain passed, she exhaled slowly before looking at me again. “I doubt that.”
True to Abby’s earlier prediction, the baby began to push on Libby in earnest, eager to find its way into the world. Abby and I stayed with her all the while, walking her around the room and distracting her with idle talk until it was time to push.
“You can do this,” I said, wiping her face once more.
“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t.”
“Libby, don’t be such a ninny,” I chided. “‘Course you can. Push.”
“No,” she groaned.
I traded glances with Abigail, whose face had turned mighty serious. It didn’t look like things were going well. I leaned down and spoke quickly into her ear. “Listen here, Libby, you have always been the biggest thorn in my side. I don’t know what possessed my brother to marry you and if you don’t hurry and push this baby out, he’ll wonder, too.”
The words had their desired effect almost immediately. Libby glared up at me, her eyes shooting sparks as she strained to push the baby out. “You were always… such a hateful old… spinster,” she declared through gritted teeth.
“Married now,” I taunted. “Now, come on and push.”
Her fire reignited, Libby performed admirably, enduring the pain and pushing hard though it was plain to see she was past exhaustion. “I’m never… havin’ another baby,” she cried, tears pouring down her cheeks with perspiration.
“Hush now,” I told her soothingly. “It will be over soon.” Despite my encouragement, looking at her made my own heart begin pounding with worry for the future.
“C’mon, Libby,” Abby encouraged, kneeling in front of her spread legs. “I see the baby’s head. He has your hair, Libby.”
With a strained, wild smile, Libby pushed, bearing down hard. I could see by her face what it cost her. Yet, a loud, wailing cry rang throughout the room and Abby held the baby up, crying and laughing both.
“Here she is! Look, Libby, look! She’s beautiful!”
&nbs
p; Libby had collapsed after her last push, and even after Abigail’s excited pronouncement, she didn’t push herself up. “A girl?” she asked weakly.
“A girl,” Abby confirmed, glowing as though she’d been the one to give birth.
I stayed at Libby’s side, patting her hand and murmuring reassuringly as I watched Abigail swaddle the baby in a blanket. Abby held the baby for a moment longer, beaming down on her and bouncing her until her cries settled down.
“I think she’s hungry, Libby,” Abby said, walking toward us. I scooted back and Abby knelt down and put the crying bundle in Libby’s outstretched arms.
I got a peek at the baby, who even though just born looked beautiful. I felt my eyes mist over as I imagined she had Wesley’s eyes. At that moment, I didn’t know that I’d ever seen anything more beautiful than this—and soon, I remembered, my heart soaring, I would be holding my own baby in my arms.
I got to my feet, only just realizing that my legs had fallen asleep long ago. “I’ll go get Wesley,” I said, ignoring the prickling in my legs.
“Give me just a minute. I’ll get her decent.”
With a nod, I quietly left the room. I nearly ran straight into my brother, who was hovering outside the door. “Whoa!” I laughed.
“Maggie. Thank God. Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” I assured him, reaching out to pat his arm. “Just fine. Where’s Trent?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen hair nor hide of my brother since I’d arrived.
“Who gives a damn, woman?” he growled at me. “Tell me about my wife!”
“She’s fine,” I assured him, once I’d recovered from my surprise. “She’s just fine. You have a healthy baby.”
“Can I go in?”
I nodded at his eagerness. “Yes, I think it’s high time, don’t you?”
He made for the door, pausing once his hand was on the knob. “Oh, and, beg pardon, Maggie.”
I shook my head, laughing at him, then followed behind him as he entered the room. He made for Libby but stopped short when he caught sight of the bundle in his wife’s arms.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I asked from behind him.
Maggie Meets Her Match Page 10