“Enough. I don’t want to know or I’ll have to pull this wagon over and will be puking up my guts on the side of the road.”
Remembering what Marcy Jean had compared her to, her hand came to his thigh and she squeezed. “I’m not the delicate china doll people see when they look at me, Luke.”
“I understand that, Wisteria, but it doesn’t mean I like that you’ve had to defend yourself over and over in your short life. Besides, you’ve got me now, it’s my job to protect you.”
“You won’t always be around. Like today. That’s the other thing I have to tell you. I had a run-in with Frannie Winthrop at Mrs. Mayhew’s.”
“What on earth about?”
“Honey,” she drawled.
He glanced at her, clueless.
“Luke. She has it set in her mind that I stole you away from her.”
“Hardly. As if I’d have ever—”
“I saw her, remember? I’m proof you have much better taste.” He arched his brow at her and she shrugged. “Whatever the case, it’s what she believes and she hates me for it.”
“I’ll have a talk with her.”
“No need. Heath set her straight.”
“He did?”
“Yep, he showed up just as I was showing her my weapon. That and his stern warning should take care of it for good.”
He was silent for a minute. “Did you tell me about the gun under your skirts because you felt I needed to know or because Heath did?”
“Uh—” She hesitated.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’m sure it would have come up eventually.”
“Someday, maybe telling me about something as important as this will be your first thought, rather than an eventual one.”
“But I didn’t think anything of it. I’ve carried a gun for years. It’s like a pair of shoes to me.”
He snorted in disbelief.
“It is,” she protested. “You carry a gun. Would you think of coming to town without your Colt holstered to your side?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m a man.”
“And because I’m a woman means I can’t defend myself when I can shoot better than most men?” She crossed her arms before she finished in a huff. “Maybe even better than you.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?” She stared at him, mystified.
“Is it wrong to want to protect my woman myself and not have her packing like Belle Starr?”
“Your mother can shoot,” she retorted.
“A shotgun and only when she needs to. She doesn’t wear one while she gets fitted for gowns in the dressmaker’s shop.”
“Are you forbidding me to wear my gun, husband?”
“Would you obey me if I did, wife?”
She sat brooding silently for a moment, then nodded. “I would, but you wouldn’t hear the end of me yammering about it in your ear trying to convince you that your double standard is plain wrong.”
They rode for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts, until they turned off on the road to the ranch at Silverbend Creek. “The ability to shoot well has saved me many times, Luke, as well as Micah, Slim a time or two, and Jenny. If I didn’t know how, there’s a good chance none of us would be here today.”
He nodded. “I realize that.”
“When we get home, set up some targets and you can test my skill. If I don’t hit every one, I’ll give up my Colt. I swear.”
He groaned. “No.”
“Luke!”
“I meant no to a test of skill. It isn’t necessary. You can keep it.”
“And wear it when in town?”
“Yes.”
She wrapped her arms around one of his and hugged it close, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you, Luke. You won’t have reason to regret it.”
“You realize most husbands have to argue with their wives about spending too much on a dress.”
“That reminds me, Mrs. Mayhew said she’d tally my bill and you could settle up when I return next week for my final fitting.”
He chuckled. It started out low, before building and rolling from his lips in a full-throated laugh. She smiled up at him, grinning when he eased his arm out of her grip, encircled her body, and slid her across the bench until she was snuggled into his side.
“Life with you is never going to be dull, is it, darlin’?”
“I don’t reckon. My papa used to say take life by the horns and damn the consequences, that without excitement in the way you live, it’s like a draw in poker. Nobody wins and you leave feeling like something is missing.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, though I’m not sure that notion should be offered to a young girl. How old were you when you learned those pearls of wisdom?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Wisteria.”
“He was a good man, Luke. I don’t want you to think less of him.”
“How old?”
She scowled. “You’re stubborn.”
“Another Jackson trait I come by honestly. How old?”
“I heard it often. As I recall, I was five, or maybe six.”
“Well before he taught you to shoot at the ripe old age of ten, huh?”
“Luke!”
“Thank God you found your way into my life, darlin’. I’ll strive to provide enough excitement to make you feel like you’re not missing a thing, but in a much safer context.”
“So I can wear my gun to town,” she confirmed.
“Yes, Belle. You can wear it, for protection, not for threatening mean heifers in dress shops.” Her mouth dropped open. “Yeah, I figured out your private joke with Heath. I don’t want someone bigger and stronger taking it and turning it on you.”
“They’d have to beat my draw first.”
“Holy Christ!”
“I’m kidding.” She peeped up at him with a sheepish grin. “At least partway.”
Once more, he hung his head and groaned.
Chapter Fourteen
Standing on a stout branch about twelve feet off the ground, he bounced on it, testing its strength. When it bowed more than he liked, he shifted to a wider one a foot lower. It took his weight without a creak or a groan despite jumping and coming down on it with both feet.
He gave a nod of satisfaction. This would do. Not taking any risks with the precious cargo it would need to support: an active growing boy, his bride if she was so inclined, and if his kisses could convince her, both of them, at once after dark this evening, as a trial run.
Grinning, he stooped and fastened the rope twice around, then through the loop he’d created.
“Luke?”
“Up here, darlin’.”
She came into view about thirty feet below him, turning one way and another as she searched for him.
“Where?” she called.
“In the maple.”
She turned and he watched as she looked up the hill to a grove of trees behind the barn.
He chuckled. “Those are oaks, Wisteria. Look up.”
Her head tilted back. Her confused expression turned to one of surprise, her lovely mouth taking the shape of an O. Fast as lightning, her hands found her hips. “What on earth are you doing up there? Come down before you break your neck.”
“Step back. I’m done and on my way down.”
“Don’t you think about jumping.” She’d barely gotten the words out before he dropped down, caught a lower branch with both hands, and swung his body through. She was still scrambling to get out of his way when he landed quietly on both feet directly in front of her.
“Land’s sake, are you part cat?”
“Only on a full moon, when the wind blows in from the south.”
“What?”
“I’m teasing, baby.” He turned and yanked on the ropes. Once they unfurled from overhead, he pushed down on the board that he’d cut for the seat of their new tree swing, until it caught up
on the large knots underneath. He’d already measured for the appropriate height and saw now that he’d done a fair job. A bit low for his tall frame, it would suit Wisteria just right and with Micah on her lap, it was perfect. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful. I haven’t seen a tree swing since I was a girl.” She clapped her hands with excitement. “You know he won’t be ready for this by himself for some time, don’t you?”
He pulled her close, his hands curling around her hips as his head dipped and his lips sought the sweet-scented curve of her neck. “He can swing with one of us until then.”
As she leaned into him, her hands flattened on his chest, her fingers dipping inside the open collar of his shirt and teasing through the light mat of hair that attracted her touch like a magnet. She smiled as she combed through it, lingering briefly before her hands continued upward. At his neck, her fingers curved around to the sides, splaying wide to as they threaded into the hair in back. Wisteria was extremely tactile, her hands constantly stroking and touching when they were intimate. She’d told him before that she liked the way his chest hair made her palms tingle when she rubbed it, and in contrast, how the thick, silky strands where it had grown overlong in back flowed through her fingers. The latter not a terribly manly description but she loved it, and he did as well, enjoying her fingers massaging his scalp or the sharp tugs she gave his hair during the height of passion.
Before delving further into something that would become uncomfortable if he couldn’t finish, he asked, “Where is Micah, by the way?”
“He’s down early tonight. Teething has kept him from his naps.”
“Good, then we can give our new swing a trial run.” He set her aside, turning back to the swing and tugging hard at the ropes. There was no give at all. “I’ll go first. If it can hold me, it’ll hold anyone. Stand back.”
She watched eagerly as he pushed off with his feet and glided through the air. Her gaze riveted to the branch overhead. “It’s perfect, honey. Not so much as a shimmy or a shake.”
“Excellent,” he said, bringing himself to a stop. “Climb on board and let’s really put it to the test.”
“Both of us? At once?”
“Sure.” He held out a hand for her.
Staring at it with a healthy dose of skepticism, she asked, “But how?”
“You astride, facing me.” As his hands encircled her waist, he explained his plan. “Hike up your skirt and I’ll lift you on board. Straddle my hips with your feet, then lower yourself as you wrap your legs around my waist.”
She peered anxiously around. “What if someone sees?”
“This is our house, our yard. I say to hell with anyone who dares drop by on newlyweds out of the blue. They deserve an eyeful.”
“Luke, be serious,” she half laughed as she lightly shoved his shoulder.
“It’s dusk, darlin’. They’d have to be owls to see anything unless they were right on top of us.” With boyish excitement he grinned at her, an irresistible dimple appearing in his right cheek. “Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Oh, all right.” She giggled when he lifted her and slid her into place like they were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Face to face, she wrapped him up tight, her legs gripping him as if she’d never let go while her arms clung in a death grip around his shoulders.
Angling her head back, she peered up at the branch and whispered, “Maybe we should have skipped the pie after dinner.”
“Relax. It’ll be fun. Are you ready?” he whispered against her neck.
“As I’ll ever be.”
He pushed off. As they sailed forward, they both held their breath, the whole while eyeing the branch overhead. When their momentum took them backward, flying in the opposite way, they exhaled as the branch remained firm and sound. Their eyes met as they swung to and fro, Wisteria letting go with one hand to brush the tangle of her long hair out of their faces. Luke pumped his legs to take them higher, anchoring them to the swing with one hand on the rope while his other slid up her back and brought her closer. He captured her lips in a slow burning kiss, his tongue delving inside until she was breathless.
With a skid of his booted feet, he brought the swing to a halt. In a voice husky with passion, he ordered, “Unbutton my jeans and take me inside you.”
She didn’t hesitate, both hands jerking buttons free while he parted her drawers with deft fingers. His cock sprang forth, falling heavy into her hands, hard and ready. In an instant, he lifted her, holding her aloft while she guided the head to her weeping entrance. He then let her glide down his cock until she was fully seated.
“Hang on,” he whispered, and with a kick of his powerful legs, sent them swinging high, now joined as one.
In the fading light of the midsummer twilight, he watched her lovely face closely, seeing the precise moment when her expression changed from cautious skepticism to one of pure unadulterated sensual delight. With each upswing he leaned back and sent his cock deeper, only to glide out the slightest bit as they shifted into reverse. Her body quivered at the ever-changing angles of his thrusts inside her, her heat and wetness enveloping him, her muscles clamping down in exquisite torture as they soared back and forth. With little effort on either of their parts, they let the swing do the work for them, sending his groans of pleasure and her breathless cries of sweet bliss into the night air as the swing drove them both to a stunning and memorable climax.
Once they were both spent, she clung to him, her limbs still wrapped around him. His hand gently stroked up her back and down to her hips as they came back to earth. When he felt he could speak without croaking like one of the frogs in the woods behind them, he turned his head and murmured in her ear, “It was better than I imagined it would be, darlin’.”
Her head lifted and she eyed him suspiciously. “Exactly who did you build this swing for, Mr. Jackson? Your son, or his daddy?”
“Perhaps I built it with Mrs. Jackson in mind?” She rolled her eyes as he grinned. “Admit it. You loved it.”
“I did indeed, husband, but you’ve managed to corrupt the incorruptible. Now my face will burn red every time Micah glides through the air as he rides it and my memories of swinging in my childhood have lost all of their innocence.”
He chuckled. “Maybe in addition to blushing seven shades of red, you’ll remember this night fondly.”
“Of course,” she answered with a broad grin of her own, wiggling upon his lap. “That goes without saying.”
Before her cavorting caused a stir in him once more, he took her lips in a fierce kiss, then lifted her from his thighs. As they stood and righted their clothes, Luke turned at the sound of a rapidly approaching horse down the lane. The rider called out, “Mr. Luke.”
“The owl you mentioned before, perchance?” Wisteria inquired, tongue in cheek.
“No. It’s George Gleason. Riding hell-bent for leather. Something’s wrong.”
They rushed to the stable yard to meet their visitor.
“There’s been an accident at Mr. Heath’s new spread,” the man called breathlessly before stopping. “It’s yer pa. He’s hurt bad.”
Wisteria cried out in alarm.
“Stay with Mrs. Jackson until I return, George?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied automatically.
“Don’t worry about me, Luke. Go see to your pa.”
With a distracted kiss that barely grazed her forehead, he sprinted to the barn, had Track saddled, and was off in minutes.
* * *
Luke could hear his pa fussing as he rode up the rise to what would eventually be Heath’s new house. He dismounted and walked up the stairs without anyone noticing, their concerned faces fixed on the injured man and the back and forth jawing going on between the him and Janelle, who’d been called upon once again to use her medical expertise.
“Dadblame it, girl, that’s my leg you’re tearing asunder, not to mention a perfectly good pair of britches.”
Unfazed, Janelle gave as good
as she got from her father-in-law. “I’ve got to see what I’m doing in order to get the leg in the proper alignment before I put on the splint or you’ll be walking gimpy and sitting a horse sidesaddle.” The sound of material ripping filled the air. “Besides, they’re covered in blood. Even Letty with her magic couldn’t get them clean. There’s also a jagged tear, which isn’t along a seam.”
“You’ve got britches aplenty, Henry,” Letty cut in, “and could buy out every pair on Ivinson’s shelves. Now, please stop fussing and let Janelle do what she needs to do to fix your leg.”
Luke watched as Aaron crouched beside her. “What can I do, sweet pea?”
“Give him another shot of the whiskey, Aaron.”
“How about a mallet alongside his head,” Letty suggested instead. “It’ll take an entire keg of whiskey to quiet his squalling.”
“Woman! Where is your sympathy? I fell off the dern roof.”
“Which brings us to why you were up there in the first place, and after dark I might add, Henry.” Her voice broke, her concern for him palpable. “You can’t seem to remember you’re not twenty-five any longer.” She lambasted Heath next. “I told you boys to keep him down on the main floor. Your pa’s not a spring chicken anymore, you know.”
“Respectfully, ma, have you tried telling him that?” Heath asked. “Or tried to get the stubborn man to listen when he’s got his mind set on something?”
“Stubborn runs bone deep in this family,” Jenny whispered in an aside to Janelle, who with Doc Morgan out of town had the unpleasant task of doctoring Henry.
“I heard that, Jenny girl. I thought of anyone you’d be on my side since I was busting my tail to get your house done before winter, and all.”
“Oh, Henry,” she replied softly. “I do appreciate all you’ve done, but not at the risk of your health or safety. If we have to make do in the cabin another winter, I’ll survive.”
“I won’t,” Heath grumbled. “I’m tired of living in a shoebox. Tomorrow, I’m hiring a crew of men to get this done before he’s out of bed, then we’ll have our new house done and won’t have to worry about him swinging from the rafters and breaking his neck next.”
Wild Wisteria Page 14