by Sasha Gold
Her body tightened with contractions. After some time, with little to show for her efforts, a small hoof finally appeared. When the other hoof and the foal’s head appeared, Charlotte gripped Will’s arm. They sat quietly as the foal eased into the world. The mare lifted her head and looked behind her to where her foal lay in the straw.
Will waited to see if the animal would free itself from the afterbirth. If it didn’t he would help. With a jerk, it kicked and flailed. The bag tore. Mandy nickered and rose from the hay. The foal’s bag ripped more as the mare stood. She turned to nose her baby, sniffing its head. After several improbable attempts the foal staggered to its feet.
Charlotte’s eyes glistened and she wiped tears from her cheek. Will kissed her head and got to his feet. He patted the mare’s nose. “Good girl. You’ve got a beauty there. A pretty bay, just like you, but with the daddy’s markings.”
He crouched. “A filly.”
Charlotte said nothing, only nodding, her face filled with wonder.
The foal staggered to her mother’s side and a moment later, nursed vigorously.
Will got a bucket of water and a few rags and gently cleaned the mare. He tidied the stall and gave the mare fresh bedding. When he’d given her an extra ration of grain and hay, he took Charlotte’s hand and they returned to the house.
They ate dinner but not in the usual quiet. Instead, they debated names for the filly.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with Cinnamon,” Charlotte insisted.
“I always name the foal with the same letter as the mother’s name.”
Charlotte’s eyes lit with delight. “Maple?”
“That doesn’t sound very feminine.”
The debate continued into the evening. Charlotte emerged from her dressing room, clad in one of the gowns he disliked. He gave her a frown, mocking his chagrin, but said nothing.
“You were so sweet with Mandy, tending to her.” She tugged the blankets up and smiled at him with a look of admiration and pleasure. She’d never given him that before, and while he didn’t think he’d done anything special, her response made him absurdly happy. He grinned and shook his head as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside.
“One day, I’ll carry our little one, Will.” She set her hand over her stomach and gazed at him with a warmth burning in her eyes. “God willing. And then imagine the arguments we’ll have about names.”
He felt the blood drain from his face. Of course, he’d thought about children. He’d imagined them with the first letter he wrote Charlotte, but the possibility took on a different light somehow. She was slender. Delicate. She had lovely curves, but she was narrow, too. How could she possibly manage to bring a little one into the world?
“Most husbands don’t stay with their wives when they give birth.” She spoke softly.
He stepped closer, stopping at the foot of the bed and grasped the top of the footboard. “I’ll do whatever you want, Charlotte.”
“I think I would want you near. Holding my hand, perhaps.”
He nodded. His throat felt tight and dry. “Of course.”
She sat up and frowned. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he replied gruffly. He turned away and finished undressing. When he returned to the bed, he reached for the lantern and caught Charlotte smiling at him.
“You’re very pale, Will. You can’t attend the birth if you’re going to faint.”
“I won’t faint,” he snapped. He rubbed his brow, wiping the sheen of sweat away, and turned down the wick. The room plunged into darkness and he moved to her side. He gave her gown a quick tug. “Enjoy your gowns while you can. I’m going to confiscate them when the thirty days are up.”
Charlotte laughed softly. She turned in his arms and rested her head on his chest. Her breathing grew deep. She sank against him and sighed as she drifted off to sleep. Will lay awake in the dark, listening to her measured breaths and feeling her heartbeat against his side. Her hand rested over his heart, laying claim to the one thing he never intended to offer.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte
For a man who’d claimed he wanted nothing to do with romance or love, Will certainly indulged her a great deal. In Fort Worth, he bought her the prettiest lady’s saddle. The saddle maker put her name on a brass plate and affixed it to the back. Seeing her name in the swirly letters gave her a little thrill each time she saw it.
Will had her ride the mare several times in the corral. He told her she was a natural and after only three times in the saddle agreed to take her out on the trail with him. He’d led the mare on a lead line for the first few rides. For the last two outings she’d ridden on her own.
That morning they rode to a far pasture to check on a herd of cattle.
“Only two more days, Mrs. Travis.”
He rode beside her, mounted on his roan gelding. It had been a few days since he’d shaved and his smile contrasted with his short beard. He looked like an outlaw, the glint in his eye not helping his wicked appearance.
“I know that, Mr. Travis. You’ve reminded me every day.”
They rode up a steep embankment, and the mare broke into a canter, following the gelding. Charlotte grabbed the horse’s mane and leaned forward like Will had instructed. At the top of the hill, they continued riding side by side, slowing the horses back to a walk.
“Is that enough time, Charlotte?” he asked, his tone softer. “Have I wooed you sufficiently? Is there something I can do to ease your fears?”
His smile was back.
She returned the smile. “I’m not afraid, Mr. Travis.”
He nodded. “No, I don’t believe you are. This morning I woke up at dawn with someone’s hand on my private parts. And it wasn’t mine.”
Heat burned her face. “I don’t believe you, Will. Honestly, I think you’re making it up.”
“I absolutely did not make it up. You had your sweet, delicate, ladylike hand over my manhood in a very unladylike position. I was quite shocked, really.”
“I’ll bet you were.”
“I was so surprised, I couldn’t get my wits together enough to remove your hand.”
“You left it there?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I am a thoughtful husband.”
They rode the length of the ridge, and as they rode into a dry creek bed, she glanced over at him. He wore a smirk and studied the ragged bank with a distracted look.
“You are,” she said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“A thoughtful husband.”
He didn’t reply right away. “I’m not thoughtful, Charlotte. All I want to do is care for you and love you and make you smile. It’s not thoughtfulness when it makes you happy to do those things.”
Not until that moment had he said anything so tender to her and the look in his eye matched his words. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her eyes stung. “That’s nice, Will. Thank you.”
After they checked the back pasture, they rode back to the barns. Will told her about his childhood and his parents. His father had been twenty-five years older than his mother. She’d died of a fever and he followed a day later of a broken heart. Charlotte could hear the pain in his voice. His brothers claimed they wouldn’t marry and he was certain it was because neither of them wanted to love someone the way his parents loved each other.
When they returned to the barns, several of Will’s men greeted them and took the horses away. The sun sank low in the sky. Will took her hand and they began walking back to the house. Charlotte’s stomach growled loud enough for Will to hear. He grinned and tugged her closer and gave her a playful swat.
“I know you need trousers to ride but I’m still not sure what I think about my wife wearing pants.”
“My bottom is a little saddle sore, Mr. Travis. You better not be thinking of meting out any punishment for some fabricated offense.”
He scoffed. “I t
hink you like it when I mete out a little punishment. I think it makes you feel a little frisky.”
“Will,” she whispered. “Hush.” There was no one around, but she still felt mortified.
A shout from the mare’s barn made them stop in their tracks. The door burst open and two men tumbled out. The bigger one grabbed the other by the shirt collar and punched him square in the face. The shorter man spat blood and pulled a knife.
Charlotte watched in horror, a scream frozen in her throat. Will moved quickly, crossing the yard as he called over his shoulder. “Get inside, Charlotte.”
Silas appeared at her side, followed by Mary.
“Come, Mrs. Travis. Let the menfolk handle this. A fight is no place for a lady.”
Mary pulled her arm, coaxing her back to the house. Charlotte watched Will approach the men. She couldn’t hear his words, just his firm tone. Usually the men jumped the moment he said a word, but the two men fighting were too rage-filled to hear anything. Charlotte couldn’t look away and it took Mary’s persistence to get her inside the house.
Once inside, Charlotte began shaking. Mary went to Will’s study and returned with two small glasses of spirits. Charlotte took her glass, her hand trembling so much she was sure she’d spill the contents.
“Mrs. Travis, don’t you worry about a thing. Mr. Travis will handle things lickety-split. Some of those cowboys are hotheads. This isn’t the first time he’s had to break up a fight.”
Charlotte drained the glass in one draught. “One of them had a kn-knife.”
“It will be fine. Don’t you worry none.”
“I saw the blade. He waved it in the air and the blade glinted in the sunlight. He was saying terrible things. What if he goes after Will? Will doesn’t have a knife. I don’t think.”
Mary waved a dismissive hand. “He’s got better than a knife. Mr. Travis has a gun.”
Charlotte let out a whimper. She swayed on her feet and Mary gently led her to a chair.
“How about another belt, Mrs. Travis? Might be just what you need.” She hurried back to the study, returning a moment later with two fresh glasses. “Drink this and we’ll get you into a bath.”
“I don’t want a bath. I want to wait for Will.”
“That’s fine too. We’ll just sit together. How would that be? Did you have a nice ride today? That’s a lovely mare you have. Such a pretty grey. You look mighty pretty too. Quite the lady. Even though you wear trousers… quite the lady, indeed.”
Charlotte didn’t hear what Mary prattled on about. She sat and waited and wondered. What if he got hurt? They were so far from town. Caroline came to the door and asked about dinner.
“Best hold off on dinner,” Mary said. “Mr. Travis has a little trouble at the barn. He’ll be along soon though. Won’t be long at all. You might put a fresh bottle of bourbon in his study though.”
When the front door opened, and Will’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, Charlotte felt as though she might faint. His footfalls were even and measured and she knew he was safe. He came to her and kissed her.
“S’okay, Charlotte.”
She kept her gaze down and drew a trembling breath as her eyes filled with tears.
He crouched beside her and cupped her chin. “Everything’s fine. No one got hurt.”
Mary said a few words excusing herself. Will bid her good night. He tugged Charlotte to her feet and led her upstairs. He took her to the washroom and lit the lantern. While the tub filled, he tended to her, helping her out of her shirt and trousers, soothing her with whispered words.
When she was undressed, he helped her get into the tub.
“It was a fight, sweetheart. They threw a few punches and stopped. I had to ask them a few times, but they stopped.”
He helped her wash and when he was done, he helped her get out and dry off.
“That happens sometimes around here. I wish I could say it didn’t but some of my men get to fighting. Especially about women.” His tone was gently teasing. “Women have no idea how many problems they cause.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
He put the gown on over her head, and after she put her arms in the sleeves, he tugged it down. “You don’t want to wait for what?”
“I don’t want to wait the thirty days.”
He froze and waited. When she didn’t go on, he cupped her shoulders. “What do you mean? We’ve got a couple more days to go.”
“I kept thinking, what if he dies? I could lose Will and never have been a wife to him.”
He smiled and drew her close. “Well, that would be a hell of a way to go.”
“I want you to make love to me, Will. Right now.”
Stroking her head, he spoke quietly. “I would like nothing better than to make love to you right now, but I’m not going to.”
“Please, Will,” she breathed.
“Not tonight. For two reasons. I gave you my word and you’re shaking like a leaf. The first time I make love to you, I don’t want you to be upset or frightened or desperate.”
He looked down at her and lifted her chin. “Two days, Mrs. Travis.”
She nodded and leaned her forehead against his chest. He picked her up and carried her to bed.
“I’m going to get a plate from Caroline and feed you dinner myself. Right in bed.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room. When he returned, she let him feed her a few bites, but she had no appetite. He grumbled, but didn’t press the issue. She listened as he undressed and washed up. She dozed until he came to bed and sighed contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her next to him. He kissed her neck and growled softly.
“You best keep your hands off my privates, Mrs. Travis. I have ways of punishing my sweet little wife for teasing her husband.”
She nodded, sank into his arms and welcomed the warmth of his embrace. “No promises, Mr. Travis.”
Chapter Ten
Will
Storms threatened for the next two days. Distant rumbling rolled across the hills, but the rains never seemed to arrive. The thunderheads soared and billowed. The animals were skittish and Silas claimed to have killed two rattlers.
“We’re due for a rain,” he told Will as dusk fell. “You can smell it coming.”
They worked together, feeding the broodmares, one by one. As they worked their way through the barn, they checked the mares for a sign their time was near. All of them munched their hay contentedly.
“We decide on a name?” Silas asked when they got to Mandy’s stall.
Will sighed. He knew his answer would earn him some ribbing from the cowboys. “Maple Cinnamon.”
Silas stared. “No, really. What’s the filly’s name?”
“It’s Maple Cinnamon,” Will said gruffly. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing at all, it’s just that…”
“What?”
“It sounds like a type of cookie or a biscuit.”
“Mrs. Travis picked the name,” Will snapped, taking the barrow back to the feed room.
He returned to the stall and frowned at Silas. The foal came to the door and nudged Will’s hand. He smiled and stroked her velvety nose. “She’s a pretty little thing.”
“She sure is,” Silas agreed. “Sweet-natured just like her dam.”
Will bid Silas good night and returned to the house, a smile curving his lips as he ascended the steps. Coming home in the evenings was the best part of his day.
Inside, the house was quiet. Even the kitchen was empty. A plate of sandwiches, covered with a tea towel, sat in the middle of Caroline’s work table. He ate two, washing them down with a glass of lemonade, then headed upstairs.
His awareness of Charlotte heightened with each step. The other night she’d offered herself to him and he’d told her no. He had taken her to bed and held her as she fell asleep. All he wanted was to claim her, to make her his, but he wouldn’t touch her when she was so shaken. But in the last few days, she’d calmed
. She’d returned to her teasing and sassing ways.
The thirty days were up tomorrow. Sunday. He’d already instructed Silas that he wouldn’t be available. He and Mrs. Travis were spending the day together. He didn’t add anything to that, and Silas wouldn’t ever ask about another man’s personal business.
He pushed the door open. Charlotte sat in bed, reading by lamplight. She glanced up and smiled.
“I let Caroline have the night off.”
He nodded. “I’m going to wash up and come to bed.”
He filled the tub with hot water and bathed. The idea of lingering usually appealed to him, but not tonight. After he dried, he wrapped the towel around his hips and returned to the bedroom.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
She sat with her book. The blankets had fallen and light flickered, casting shadows over Charlotte’s nightgown. The gown was nothing like what she usually wore. Far from it. The material was so sheer he could see the curve of her breasts.
He swallowed hard. “Charlotte.”
She swung her legs out of bed and stood before him. “I made this for you.”
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“The thirty days are over.”
He dragged his gaze back up to hers. “No, they’re not. Tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow. In Boston.”
He narrowed his eyes and watched the way her lips curved into a smile. She tugged the ribbon at her throat and let the gown fall to her feet. Light danced across her breasts, and down the length of her body.
“Charlotte,” he whispered. He lowered to kiss her, walking her back to the bed. Lifting her, he set her down in the middle and prowled over her.
She laughed softly and tugged the towel from his hips. “You’re not going to deny me, are you, Mr. Travis?”
He kissed her neck and nipped her for her sass. “You’re impossible, Charlotte. But perfect too.”
Cupping her, he groaned, a deep shuddering response from the feel of her breast. Her breast filled his hand. Her nipple, taut and pebbled, sent a thrill of desire from his palm to his cock. His cock pulsed. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, but he needed something else.