by Daina Palmer
"About the time you went off with Evan," he suggested.
"Well. . . yes."
"I thought so."
"But that was so Evan could tell me about the phone call," she said, puzzled.
He moved into the light from the windows, frowning. "What phone call?"
"There's this lady C.C. used to go around with," she said wearily. "Edie. Evan says she called here looking for C.C. because she thinks I faked the marriage license."
"Sour grapes, I expect," he mused. "Did you tell Connal why you went off with Evan?"
"I haven't had a chance. He seems to be avoiding me. I guessed maybe he was having second thoughts, again. He was sure mad when he found out the marriage was valid," she said, grimacing. "I thought he'd never speak to me again as long as he lived. Then when I agreed to an annulment and started the wheels turning, he showed up again and said he didn't want one." She threw up her, hands. "I don't know what he wants anymore. Maybe he's missing Edie and angry because he's stuck with me."
"Maybe he's jealous," he murmured dryly. "I see that thought hadn't occurred to you," he added when she gaped at him.
"C.C.'s never been jealous of me," she faltered. "My gosh, he never wanted me. Well, not for a wife, I mean. . ." She averted her red face when she remembered who she was talking to.
Harden actually laughed, the sound deep and pleasant in the night air. "He's a man. And it does rather go with marriage."
"I suppose so," she murmured. "But he doesn't have any reason to be jealous of Evan. I always wanted a big brother, you see."
"And Evan is a teddy bear, right?"
"Well, yes. . ."
"That particular teddy bear has some nasty fangs and a temper you're better off not knowing about," he advised. "He likes you, but Marsha wouldn't come near the place because of him. He hated her from head to heels and made no secret of it."
"But he's so nice," she said.
"You're not doing business with him," he chuckled. "Evan's deep. Just don't put too much stock in that boyish charm. I'd hate to have you totally disillusioned when he throws somebody over a fence."
"Evan?" she gasped.
"One of the new men took a short quirt to a filly and drew blood. Evan heaved him over the fence and jumped it himself. The last we saw of the man, he was tearing through the blackberry thicket like a scalded dog trying to outrun Evan."
She was beginning to get a good idea of what the Tre-mayne men were really like. She whistled silently. "My, my, and here I thought you were the terror of the outfit." She grinned.
"Oh, I'm right down the line behind your husband and Evan."
"And Donald, is that his name, the youngest?"
"Donald puts Tabasco Sauce on his biscuits," he replied. "And I have personally seen him skin men at five feet when he's angry."
"I don't know that I want to be related to you savages," she said, tongue in cheek.
"Sure you do," he replied. "Once you get to know us, you'll feel right at home. Any woman who'll take on Connal has to be a hell-raiser in her own right. God knows Jo Ann is, or she'd never have lasted three years with Donald."
She laughed. "I can't wait to meet them."
"They're away for two weeks on business, I'm sorry to say. Another time."
"Yes." She glanced toward the front door. "I suppose I'd better go and try to find my husband."
"That's a step in the right direction. Good night, Penelope."
"Good night, Harden," she replied, smiling as he went down the steps and out to his car. He was nice. Like the rest of C.C.'s family.
She said good night to the others and went upstairs, wondering if she could work up enough nerve to seduce her own husband.
Chapter Twelve
It was barely ten o'clock, but when Penelope got to the room where Connal had taken their suitcases, it was to find him already in bed and apparently asleep.
She hesitated. The lamp by the king-size bed was on, but the bare chest half-covered by the plaid sheet was rising and falling regularly.
"Connal?" she asked softly, but he didn't answer.
With a long sigh, she got out her gown and took it into the bathroom to put it on. This was not the night she'd envisioned, and her courage failed her when she walked back into the bedroom minutes later wearing the long green nylon gown.
She climbed slowly into bed beside him, gave his dark head and his hair-covered muscular chest a long look, and resignedly turned out the light.
But she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, remembering so vividly the ardor she'd shared with C.C. only hours before. Her body had never ached so when she'd been unawakened. Now she knew what desire was, and she felt it so acutely that it was almost pain.
"Can't you sleep?" he asked, his voice deep and clear, not muffled with drowsiness.
"Not very well," she said. She lay on her side, looking toward the dark shape that was his head. Dim light from the safety lights by the barn shone in through the curtains. "I guess it's because I'm not used to sleeping with anyone," she added.
"Neither am I, just lately." He reached out and drew her slowly against him. Her hand came in contact with his bare hip and she realized belatedly that he wasn't wearing pajamas.
He felt her stiffen unexpectedly and chuckled under his breath. "You saw me nude just this morning," he reminded her. "And I saw you. Is it still such a shock? Or is it just that I'm the wrong man?" he added sarcastically.
"The wrong man?" she echoed.
"You've been hanging on Evan all day," he said. His hands smoothed up her body, his thumbs edging out to rub against her sensitive nipples. "Are your marriage vows uncomfortable all of a sudden?"
"C.C, that's not true," she said quietly. "I like Evan very much, but I haven't been hanging on him."
His fingers bit into her sides. "I wouldn't really expect you to admit it. Maybe I can't even blame you. One way or another, I got us into this mess."
A mess. He was admitting that it was that, in his eyes. Her heart plummeted. "I thought you were making a phone call. I went looking for you," she said, making a clean breast of it.
"I made it up here," he said.
"I had to call Edie."
Her heart stopped beating. She wanted to hit him. So Evan's warning had been right on the money, had it? That woman wasn't going to give up, and if C.C. had no qualms about calling her from his family home, then he must have misgivings about breaking off with her in the first place.
Connal felt her go rigid and his heart jumped. That was the first hopeful sign he'd ever had that she might care a little for him. God, if only it were true!
"Nothing to say?" he chided.
She ground her teeth together. "I think I can sleep now," she said through them.
"Can you?" He moved the covers away and while she was dealing with that unexpected action, his lips came down squarely over her breast, taking the nipple and the fabric that covered it into the hot darkness of his open mouth.
The cry that tore out of her throat was music to his ears. He shifted and while his mouth made intimate love to hers, he stripped the gown down her trembling body and his hands relearned its soft, sweet contours with a lazy thoroughness that had her moaning in his arms.
"Can I have you without hurting you?" he whispered at her ear, his breath as hot as the body threatening hers.
"Yes," she whimpered. Her nails bit into his shoulders, tugging at them, her legs already parting to admit him, her body lifting to meet the fierce, heated descent of his. "Connal. . .!"
"Take me," he ground out against her mouth as his hips thrust down in one long, invasive movement.
She whimpered under the sharp pleasure, clinging to him as his body enforced its possession with increasing urgency. "Don't stop, Connal, don't. . .stop. . .!"
His mouth bit at hers. "You're noisy," he breathed huskily. "I like it. I like the way you feel, the way you taste. Tell me you want me."
"I. . .want. . .you!" She could barely get the words
out. He was killing her. The pleasure was too sweet to bear and she was going to die of it.
She said so, her voice breaking as he fulfilled her with savage urgency, finding his own shuddering release seconds later.
She couldn't stop trembling. She clung to his damp body, frightened by the force of the satisfaction he'd given her.
He felt tears against his cheek and lifted his head. His heartbeat was still shaking him, his arms trembling as they supported him above her. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel the convulsive shudders of her body, feel how disturbed she was from the grip of her hands.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "We went very high this time. Give yourself time to come down again. It's all right." His fingers smoothed back her damp hair and he kissed her eyes closed, kissed her cheeks, her trembling mouth in a warm, soft silence that gradually took the fear away.
"You said. . . I was noisy," she whispered.
"Didn't I say that I liked it?" he murmured. He bit her lower lip gently. "Touch me."
He guided her hand to him, and smiled when she hesitated shyly.
"We're married," he said. He opened her fingers and spread them, pressing them slowly against him. "You won't hurt me, if that's why you're so tense," he whispered. He kissed her gently and in between kisses, he guided and coaxed and in soft whispers, explained to her everything she needed to know about a man's body.
The lesson was sweet and lazy and slow, and as her eyelids began to fall drowsily, he joined her body tenderly, intimately, to his and pulled her over him to cradle her softness on his strength. Incredibly, she slept.
They went home the next day. Connal was less rigid, and seemed perfectly happy all the way back to the ranch. But he was preoccupied again by the end of the day, and he didn't mention sharing her bed that night.
It became a routine for several days. He was friendly enough, even affectionate, but he didn't touch her or kiss her. He did watch her, with brooding, narrow eyes as if he couldn't decide what to do.
She was still worried about the phone call he said he'd made to Edie, and if his desire for her had waned because of the other woman.
"What's going on between you and my new son-in-law?" Ben Mathews finally demanded one morning in the kitchen after breakfast.
"What do you mean?" she hedged. She had her hair in a ponytail and she was wearing a sweater and jeans and scuffs, less than elegant attire. C.C. hadn't even come in for breakfast for the second time in as many days.
"I mean, you and Connal are married, but you don't act like it," he said bluntly. "And ever since you came home from his family's ranch, you've both gone broody. Why?"
"He called Edie," she said quietly. "I don't know if he's looking for a way out or trying to make me get a divorce. He hasn't said. But he's not happy, I know that." She glanced at him, hoping to forestall any more personal questions. "Don't you have to be in El Paso at eleven for a meeting?" she asked.
"Yes, I do, and I'm going any minute. Why not an annulment?"
She blushed and put her hands back in the warm, soapy dishwater. "For the obvious reason," she said demurely.
"Then if that's the case, why aren't you living together? There's a furnished house going spare, if that's the problem."
She felt tears stinging her eyes. "It's more than that."
"What?"
She dropped a pan and in the ensuing noise, nobody heard C.C. come in the front door and down the hall. He was standing right outside the door, about to make his presence known, when he heard Pepi's choked voice.
"I'll tell you what," she wept. "He doesn't love me. He never did, and I didn't expect it, you know. But I had hoped. . ."
Ben pulled her gently into his arms and held her while she cried. "You poor kid," he sighed, patting her back comfortingly. "I don't guess you ever told him you were dying for love of him?"
Connal felt his body go rigid with the shock. He couldn't have moved if his life had depended on it.
"No, I never told him," Pepi sobbed. "Three years. Three long, awful years. And we got married by accident, and I knew he wouldn't want somebody plain and tomboyish like me, but oh, God, Papa, I love him so much! What am I going to do?"
Connal moved into the room, white-faced, his dark eyes blazing. "You might try telling him," he said harshly.
Ben let her go and moved away, a smug grin on his face that he quickly hid from them. "I'm late. Better be off. See you kids after lunch."
They didn't even hear him leave. Connal was still staring at her with an expression she could barely see through her tears.
"Oh, mother!" she wailed. "Why did you have to stand out there and listen!"
"Why not?" He moved closer, catching her arms and jerking her close, his bat-wing chaps hard and cold even through her jeans, like the tan checked Western shirt her hands rested against. "Say it to my face. Tell me you love me," he dared, his taut expression a challenge in itself, giving nothing away of his own feelings.
"All right. I love you!" she burst out. "There, are you satisfied?" she raged, red-faced.
"Not yet," he murmured in a low, sexy tone. "But I think I can take care of that little problem right here. . ."
His mouth settled on hers in slow, arousing movements. It had been so long. Days of polite conversation, tormented lonely nights aching for what had been. She went wild in his arms, pressing close against him, welcoming the intimate touch of his hands on her breasts, their pressure at her thighs as he moved her urgently against his hips.
"Just a minute," he whispered gruffly, as he locked the door.
His hand then went to the chaps. He stripped them off and threw them on the floor, his hands going to her blouse and then her jeans. Somehow he managed to get them off along with the scuffs she'd been wearing instead of boots. He sat down in the chair at the kitchen table and pulled her over him.
There was a metallic sound as his belt hit the floor and the rasp of a zipper. He pulled her down on him, watching her eyes as she absorbed him easily, quickly.
"Forgive me," he whispered jerkily. "I can't wait."
"Neither can I," she whispered back, meeting his lips halfway. "I love you, Connal," she whimpered as he moved under her.
"I love you," he said huskily. "Oh, God, I love you more than my own life. . .!" He heard her shocked gasp and said it again and again, his hands insistent, demanding as he rocked her, lifted and pushed her in a rhythm that eventually shook the floor and the heavens.
She trembled uncontrollably. So did he. The explosion they'd kindled had all but landed them on the floor. He laughed huskily, lifting his head to meet her wickedly amused eyes.
"So much for new techniques borne of desperation," he murmured. "Now let's go upstairs and do it properly."
Hours later she nestled her cheek against his damp chest and opened her eyes. "We really ought to get dressed. Dad will be home eventually."
He kissed her forehead lazily. "I locked the door, remember?"
"So you did." She sighed, loving the new closeness they were sharing. "Harden said you were jealous of Evan."
"I was. Blind jealous, of him, of Hale, of any man who came near you. All these years together, and I didn't know that I loved you. Evan knew it instantly. And when I realized it, it was almost too late to stop you from getting an annulment." He shook her gently. "God, you've led me a merry chase! Even our first time, I was convinced that you were just curious about sex. I didn't think you gave a damn about me except physically."
"I've loved you since the first time I saw you," she whispered. "You became my world."
His arm tightened around her. "You were mine, too. It just took a while for me to realize it. Until that happened, I said some pretty harsh things to you. I hope in time you'll be able to forget them. I was running as fast as I could. It's taken me a long time to get over Marsha, but I think I have. I had to be whole again before I had anything to offer you. I had to stop being afraid of commitment, and it wasn't easy."
"Dad said that. I wasn't so optimistic. I thought you hated me."
"Wanted you, not hated you. And resented it like hell. Eventually you stayed on my mind so much that I burned from morning till night wanting you. It's becoming an obsession."
"Wanting isn't loving."
He chuckled. "I know that, too, but you have to admit, it's a big part of it." He kissed her closed eyelids. "I'd die for you, Penelope," he whispered huskily. "Will that do?"
"Oh, yes." She nuzzled her head against his chin. "Why did you call Edie?"
"I thought we'd come to that," he said, and grinned. "Evan told me what she was up to, so I phoned and told her that my marriage was perfectly legitimate and furthermore, I was desperately in love with my wife. I don't think we'll hear any more from her."
She lifted up, searching his face while he made a meal of her breasts with his eyes. "That's why Evan took me riding, to warn me that she'd called, looking for you!"
"Well, I'll be!" he burst out, diverted. "And he never said a word."
"Harden said you were jealous," she murmured dryly. "That gave me the first hope I'd had."
"How do you think I felt that night we spent together when you grumbled about Edie?" he laughed softly. "God, I'll never forget the way we made love then!" he whispered at her temple.
"Neither will I." She looked down into his eyes, her own fever kindling as she stared at him, her body tautening visibly. "Connal. . ." she whispered, her voice shaking.
His jaw tautened. He caught her waist and lifted her over him, pulling her down on his hips. "Yes," he whispered. "I need you, too. Again, little one.'
"I don't think I can, this way. . ." she hesitated.
"Yes, you can," he said huskily. "I'll teach you. Like this, Pepi. . ."
She was shocked to discover that she could, indeed, and it was a long time before she was able to get up and dress afterward.
"Shy little country girl, hmmm?" he mused as they sat in the dining room sipping coffee and eating apple pie. "What an about-face!"