Mail Order Minx: Fountain of Love (Brides of Beckham)

by Osbourne, Kirsten

  Connor shook his head, moving onto his knees as well so she would have better access. He watched her with her hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, and was overwhelmed with all he felt for her. Never in his life had he done this with a woman, and here she was, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. He'd been certain he would need to coerce her into making love with him, but he found she was a willing participant. Could he have found a more perfect wife for him?

  She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and came into contact with his bare chest, kissing a slow path across it. Her thumbs found his nipples and she stroked them. She'd never seen a man with no shirt on before, and it felt strange to be touching him this way. Strange, but wonderful.

  He let out a low moan, and she looked up at him, wondering if she'd displease him somehow. The look of bliss on his face startled her. "You like it when I touch you."

  "I love it when you touch me. Your fingers against my bare skin is my idea of what heaven must be."

  She giggled softly. "I like touching you." She knew she probably wasn't supposed to admit that to him, but he was her husband. She wasn't about to hide her feelings from him.

  He kissed her again, sweetly, not trying to force his tongue into her mouth. "Is it okay if I touch you now?" he asked, his fingers plucking against the shoulders of her nightgown.

  She nodded, and while he unbuttoned her nightgown, she caught them hem of it. As soon as he was finished, she pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  He stared at her, a dazed expression on his face. One hand came up to cup her breast, and he stroked his thumb over the tip of it. "You are so beautiful."

  She quickly moved against him so her body would be hidden from his view as it was pressed against his. He stroked his hands over her back and down over her beautifully rounded bottom. He cupped her derriere in his hands, and she looked at him startled. "You're touching me everywhere." Was that allowed?

  He nodded. "I'm supposed to." He could tell she worried that they were doing something wrong, and he wanted to keep her from worrying.

  "You are?" Her mother had said nothing about that to her.

  He nodded evenly. "I'm your husband. I'm supposed to know your body as well as I know my own."

  "Am I supposed to know your body as well as I know mine?" She liked the idea of touching him everywhere. What had come over her that she was interested in touching a man's body this way?

  He nodded, hoping she'd take him at his word. Her hands immediately went to the waistband of his pants, unfastening them and pushing them down over his lean hips. She couldn't make herself look down as she removed them, not wanting to see the man-part of him. Surely it was wrong for her to look at his bare body. She kissed him again, her hands roaming around to his backside and touching him there, cupping him in her hands.

  He took his pants the rest of the way off, and pushed her down to her back, his hands going to her thighs, caressing them softly. He moved his hand between them, his fingers finding her core. Kissing her softly, he caught her cries of surprise as he plunged one finger deep inside her, stroking her softly, trying to ignite the same kind of fire in her that he felt burning inside him.

  *****

  Afterward, he gathered her into his arms and held her close, raining kisses over her face. "That was the most incredible experience of my life," he whispered to her.

  She sighed, snuggling into him with her face buried in his neck. "It's...not what I expected." She was embarrassed by how passionately she'd responded to him. She hadn't expected to like what they did in bed together nearly as much as she had.

  Connor pulled away, looking into her eyes. "What did you expect?"

  Millie shrugged. "The way my mother told it, the pain would be almost unbearable, and it would be just embarrassing. Instead, I barely noticed any pain, and...well...it was a little embarrassing, but not so much that I don't want to do it again tomorrow. And the next day." She blushed as he watched her grinning.

  He laughed, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her again. "That's why you're just the right woman for me."

  *****

  It was still dark when he woke her the next morning, and she groaned, wanting nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. He tore the covers off her and threw them on the floor, before getting out his pants and dressing quickly. She rolled out of bed and pulled her petticoat on. She fixed her hair and dressed, buttoning her shoes with sleepy eyes. "What time is it?" she asked grumpily. She'd never been a morning person, and this morning was no exception.

  "It's five-thirty. We have to start the bread baking for the day, and get a couple of pies made. We open at ten-thirty, and there's a lot of cooking to be done." His voice was positively cheerful making her want to throw something at his head, but she refrained, quietly getting ready for the day instead.

  She grumbled as she followed him out the door to the restaurant, which was connected to the hotel. Walking into the kitchen she looked around with a smile. He had a good set up here, and she couldn't help but be impressed. Of course, she had no idea how to cook, so she would have to learn quickly.

  "What do you want me to do?" she asked, watching as he took down ingredients for bread.

  "Why don't you make us some scrambled eggs, bacon, and a pot of coffee. I can see you need coffee." He smiled at her as he said the words, letting her know that her morning grumpiness didn't bother him at all.

  She smiled as she pulled out a frying pan and found the eggs and bacon in a room filled with ice. She walked out, shivering as she rubbed her arms. "I've never made coffee," she told him. "Would you show me?" She didn't mind asking for the one little thing, because she was certain she could make the eggs. She'd done it over and over with Berta, and she was certain she was an expert now. Of course, she had never done it without leaving eggshells in with the eggs, but she'd be more careful this time.

  He raised an eyebrow at that but showed her how to measure the coffee into the tin pot. "There. Now just set it on the stove and it'll cook." He watched her as she did as he told her, hoping that she was better in the kitchen than it looked like she was. What kind of woman didn't know how to make coffee? From what he could tell, every American had coffee with their breakfast every day of the week.

  He'd started a fire in the coal stove for her while she was getting the eggs and bacon and watched her as she laid the bacon in the still cold frying pan. He could see she hadn't done as much cooking as she'd let on. "The bacon will turn out better if you warm the pan up first," he said. He gave her the advice calmly as if he didn't mind at all that she had no clue what she was doing, but he could see that she knew nothing about cooking. Why hadn't she simply told him the truth?

  "Oh, all right." She took the bacon back out and set the pan on the stove, waiting for it to warm. While it was warming, she cracked several eggs into a bowl, having to keep fishing out egg shells.

  "Millie?" Connor's voice was soft, but demanding as he said her name.

  She nodded, afraid to look at him.

  "You said you cooked."

  "I didn't say I did it well." She bit her lip, looking down at the eggs that she'd already mangled beyond recognition.

  He sighed. "I'll teach you." He had never been so disappointed in his life. She'd seemed so perfect to him, and now he could see where her flaws lay. She couldn't cook. At all. He'd asked for a wife who was an experienced cook, because it's what he needed. How was he going to be able to make this work? "While I'm teaching you, I'm going to need for you to spend most of your time waiting tables. Do you mind taking orders from people and taking them their food?" There was no going back now. They were married, and he truly didn't think he'd not marry her if he'd known, but he did wish she'd have told him.

  She dashed a tear from her eye as she nodded. "I'm sorry! I was going to tell you, but I just couldn't. I was afraid you'd send me back home." She sniffled loudly as she admitted why she hadn't told him the truth.

  "I may have," he said. "We'll make it work, though.
" He continued mixing the bread, picking up the pace a little. They'd slept later than they would have if he'd known he'd be doing the majority of the cooking alone. He'd have to work harder to have everything ready by the time the restaurant opened.

  He finished mixing the bread and went over to stand beside her, carefully dumping the eggs into a slop bowl. "We give all of our scraps to one of the pig farmers outside of town, and he feeds his pigs with them. In return, he gives us a reduced price for the slaughtered pig when the time comes."

  She nodded. "I'm sorry I'm messed up the eggs." She looked down, unable to meet his gaze, because she knew she'd see disappointment in it. He didn't know yet how good she was with people.

  "It's fine." He turned to the stove. "The pan is hot enough now, so let's start the bacon." He laid the bacon across the pan and she heard the sizzle. Then he turned back to the bowl she'd used to mix the eggs. After checking that there were no pieces of shell left, he cracked six eggs into it, using just one hand. She watched carefully, knowing she wanted to be able to do it herself the next day. She should have paid better attention when Berta was trying to teach her.

  "I want you to mix this together." He handed her a fork. "Hold the bowl against your belly with your arm and mix it fast with the fork." He watched her for a moment, before he nodded and walked to the stove to turn the bacon. "Always cook the bacon first, because then you can use the grease to cook the eggs. If you're not making bacon or sausage with your eggs, use butter or a little lard to grease the pan."

  She nodded, listening to every word. She needed to get into the mindset that she could cook, and she needed to learn from him as quickly as she could. He hadn't yelled at her or berated her for lying to him, but he should have. She hated that she'd let him down in something so important. Why hadn't she listened to Berta?

  He took the bowl from her. "I'm going to add just a little bit of salt and pepper now, and we'll be ready to cook the eggs. I'm going to let you cook them. The important thing when you scramble eggs is not to let any on part of the egg stick to the pan for too long. You need to keep mixing the eggs around while they cook. All right?" He used a tone of voice that he would use with a child he was teaching. He tried not to let his upset show in his tone of voice, because she was obviously already humiliated.

  She nodded. "I can do that." At least she hoped she could. She'd do her very best.

  He took the bacon out of the pan while she took a spoon and carefully stirred the eggs, just as he'd said. He watched her a bit, but seemed satisfied that she was doing it right. While she cooked the eggs, he mixed up a crust for a pie later. "Do you know how to peel and core apples?" he asked. He hoped there were some things she could do in the kitchen, because he needed her to help him even if it was just the little things.

  "I've done that before." She preferred to eat apples peeled and cored, and her mother hadn't let the cook do it for her, insisting that if she wouldn't eat the fruit in its natural state, then she should have to do it herself.

  "All right. I'll have you do that after breakfast." He nodded to the eggs. "They're done now. Use your apron to shield your hand and move them off the stove onto that towel there." He pointed to the towel he'd set down for her to use. "That's perfect." He handed her two plates. "Divide the bacon between the plates and put half the eggs on each. Pour us each a cup of coffee and set everything on the table there. We'll eat." He was pleased with her first lesson. She'd done very well.

  She noticed for the first time a small table for two in the corner of the kitchen. "Is that where we'll eat all of our meals?" she asked. She was used to eating in a formal dining room with the family's cook serving them, but she could get used to eating at the small table. It felt intimate to her, and she liked the idea of being so close to her new husband.

  "Most of them anyway." He watched as she did as she was told and walked over to sit across from her. He took her hand in his as he prayed for them both, and then picked up his fork, taking a small amount of the egg and tasting it. "That's good!"

  She smiled, thankful she'd at least done that right. She squeezed his hand before picking up her fork. "Thank you for not getting angry with me." She knew she didn't deserve his understanding, but she was thankful to have it. Eventually, she'd help the whole town out, and he'd see that her lack of cooking skill was a minor flaw.

  He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over it. "I'm disappointed. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. It really hurts me that you'd lie to me, but there's not much either of us can do about it now other than make the best out of the situation." His words came out harsher than he'd intended them to, and he immediately felt badly.

  When she looked down at her plate, he knew he had hurt her feelings, but she needed to know he wouldn't put up with lies. "I care for you, and we're going to make things work out between us. In a few weeks you won't be lying when you say you can cook. In the mean time, you're going to have to do the little jobs around the restaurant that don't involve a great deal of cooking." He shrugged. "We'll make it work." He would make certain of it.

  She nodded, still not able to meet his eyes. She took a bite of the eggs and looked up in surprise. "They are good. I made eggs!" She said the words as if she'd climbed a mountain or finished painting a masterpiece.

  He smiled, enjoying her enthusiasm. If she wanted to be able to cook as much as she seemed to, she'd be good at it in no time. "I told you they were." He was thrilled to see her so pleased with herself.

  After breakfast, she washed the dishes, while he prepped food for the day. When she was finished with the dishes, he gave her a huge basket of apples to peel and core. "We also need them sliced, but I'll show you how I want that done when you're finished." He preferred thin slices of apple, almost as thin as a sheet of paper, because he felt it helped the other seasonings flavor the apples better.

  They worked together mostly in silence as they prepped for their day. He would have her watch when there was something he wanted her to be able to do. When she finished with the apples, he walked around behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You're doing a great job," he said encouragingly. He showed her how thin he wanted the apples sliced, and she went to work on that.

  He showed her how to put the apples into the crust and the right amount of sugar and spices to add. "There, now you can mostly make an apple pie." He added the top crust and popped the first of the pies into the oven.

  They worked well together, and he realized that she was more than capable of doing most of what he needed done in the restaurant as long as he was willing to keep cooking. Of course, he had wanted her to take over all the cooking, so he could concentrate on baking and open a bakery as part of the restaurant, but that could be put off while she learned to cook.

  By the time the restaurant opened, she already had a few tendrils of hair escaping from her bun, and he loved it. He caught her face in his hands and kissed her quickly before walking to the front of the restaurant to flip the sign from closed to open and unlock the door. This would be the real test for her. Would she be able to keep up with the customers if she couldn't keep up with the cooking? He usually did both, because the restaurant was small. They'd see.

  Chapter Five

  From the time they opened at half past ten to they closed again at two, they were swamped with customers. Millie was in and out of the kitchen taking plates to people, but she never got an order wrong. She introduced herself sweetly to every person who walked in, and offered them all apple pie at the end of their meal. "I made it myself," she told them all, stretching the truth a little.

  Most of the customers were ranchers or their hands coming into town to get something or someone from the train. Connor had been right about that. Several times she was asked if she had a husband, so she finally started introducing herself as Millie O'Reilly. The name sounded strange even to her. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to the new name.

  Just before they closed at two, she walked up to a table, taking her pencil from b
ehind her ear where she'd tucked it. "Hi, I'm Millie O'Reilly. I'll be your waitress. What can I get you today?" She smiled, asking the question sweetly. She'd been surprised at the tips she was receiving from the customers.

  The man looked her up and down as if she wore nothing, and she wanted to hide behind something. "You marry Connor?"

  Millie nodded. "Just yesterday." She was pleased to be able to say she was married, because the man made her feel very uncomfortable. He obviously needed a wife, but it couldn't be her.

  "You don't need him. Run away with me."

  Millie couldn't believe he'd even suggested it. "I believe in the sanctity of marriage." She stared at him as if he were a rodent. "What can I get you today?" She refused to think about anything else.

  He looked up at the chalk board where she had written the menu for the day. "I'll take the roast and a glass of iced tea."

  "I'll get it for you." She walked into the kitchen and happily shut the door behind her. "There's a man out there, that's looking at me like he wants to eat me for lunch," she told Connor, shuddering.

  Connor walked over to the door to the dining area, and looked out. "That's John Bennett. He's a rancher just outside of town; he's okay once you get to know him. For now anytime he comes in here, you let me know, and I'll serve him."

  She nodded, thankful for his answer. "He wants the roast and iced tea."

  "You plate it, and I'll take it out to him." He'd been working with her on the correct way to plate meals for the customers throughout the morning. At first, he'd done it for her, but gradually, he'd made her start doing it all herself.

  She carefully put two pieces of meat, the amount of mashed potatoes he'd shown her, and a spoonful of carrots onto a plate, added two slices of the fresh bread, and poured a glass of iced tea. She handed both to Connor. "Thank you for taking care of him."