“Cruz,” Brian answered. “Cruz, Mateo, and their slitherin’ friends came upon us in the west orchard. But we gave them cause to think twice before tryin’ to thwart the McLeans again, eh brother Brevan?”
Brevan nodded and continued to squeeze his wrist. Genieva rushed to where the two men stood. Brevan’s shirt was soaked with blood at the right shoulder and stomach.
“What’s this?” she asked as she quickly tore open the shirt to reveal a heinous, horizontal laceration across Brevan’s belly.
“Ya’re gonna send me to debtor’s prison over replacin’ the button’s on me shirts, lass,” Brevan growled, glaring down at her. “It’s not as bad as it looks, that one,” he assured her, looking down at his stomach. Genieva gently pulled the cloth from Brevan’s shoulder to reveal yet another cut. “Nor that one, neither,” Brevan grumbled as he continued to give his wrist his attention.
“It must’ve been planned, Brian. For Juan Miguel was here only moments ago,” Brenna confessed then.
“What?” Brevan shouted. “In me own house? Ya let him enter me own house?”
“He forced his entrance,” Genieva corrected as she dabbed at his stomach wound with her apron. She wasn’t as convinced of its insignificance as was Brevan. “I sent him away.”
“What did he want?” Brian asked.
“He said he wanted to see Lita and the baby,” Brenna answered. “But I think he meant us all harm.”
Brian and Brevan shared an understanding look, and Brevan said, “It’s comin’ to a peak now, it is.” Brian nodded. “We’ll all have to be more careful and watchful than ever before,” Brevan added. Reaching down and tugging brutally at Genieva’s apron strings, he untied the apron, pulled it from her waist, and wrapped it haphazardly about his wrist. “Ya take Lita to Brenna and Travis’s, Brian. She can’t be left alone, and I think they mean the least harm to them. Take her now, for I’m sure they’re no longer about at this moment. But they soon may be.”
“Ya’re right. I’ll take her now. Help me, Brenna. We need to make her comfortable,” Brian ordered as he left and went to the back of the house.
“Ya should go as well,” Brevan said to Genieva—looking down at his buttonless shirt—trying to figure a way to hold it together. “’Tis safer the more of ya that are together, it is.”
“Absolutely not!” Genieva retorted. “I’m staying here! I’ll not leave when…”
“You’ll go! I said ya will, so ya will!” Brevan shouted, taking her shoulders firmly between his hands.
Genieva wriggled free of his grasp and argued, “I won’t go. You can drag me there, but I’ll only come back. My place is here.”
Brevan sighed with irritation. Putting his fists squarely on his hips, he let his head drop forward as he said, “Fine. Ya’re right. Ya’re a wee little rat, and ya’ll have yar way about it. I know that well enough.”
“What are we going to do, Brevan?” Genieva asked then. “What? They’re too devious, and we have too much work to do here to be constantly watchful and inside.”
Brevan raised his head and looked at her. He seemed defeated somehow, and his arms dropped to his sides.
“We go on about it, Genieva. We go on about it. When it peaks, we’ll be ready, and we’ll prevail.” He paused when she looked unconvinced. “We’ll prevail because we’re right, and they’re wrong, lass. Good is on our side.”
“Good doesn’t always conquer,” she reminded him.
“It will here. I promise ya that.”
After Brian had taken Lita and Brenna home, the remaining daylight hours seemed long, lonely, and anxious. Brevan insisted Genieva have the rest of the day to do as she pleased. Yet she was too insecure to venture too far from the house—and far too worried about Brevan being out alone on the farm to occupy her mind with anything else. She tried to busy herself by straightening the spare room and washing the bedding used the day before during Lita’s childbirth. Still, she felt nervous when she was out hanging the sheets on the line. She found herself constantly glancing over her shoulder—expecting to see one of the Archuletas or their vaqueros there.
As the sun began to set and Brevan had still not returned home for dinner, Genieva’s worst fears began to heighten. She paced the floor anxiously, wringing her apron and trying to calm herself.
What a barrage of emotions Genieva experienced during the past two days. As she ventured out onto the front porch, watching the sun setting over the west orchard before her, she thought of the varied and extreme feelings that had churned within her recently. So many of them were odd and uncomfortable combinations—anger accompanied elation—envy shared joy—fear coupled with delight. Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes for a moment, reflecting on how fatiguing, how absolutely fatiguing it had all been. Her body was tired—her arms ached—her mind was dizzy—her legs were weak. She wondered if she could endure such fatigue for the many years and years to come.
When, at last, she opened her eyes, she gasped at what they beheld. Just in the brief moments since she had been reflecting with them closed, the skies had changed. Instead of the familiar shade of blue, white clouds drifting here and there, the sky blazed pink—the clouds boasting shades of purple the like she had never seen! The pink was a pink of such brilliance she could not compare it to anything immediately! The purples were the softest yet brightest lavenders and violets, rivaling the flowers of springtime.
“’Tis truly one of heaven’s miracles, it is,” Brevan’s voice said.
Genieva tore her gaze from the nature’s painting before her to see him standing off to one side of the porch. She’d been so enthralled by the spectacle in the heavens, she hadn’t even heard his approach.
“I know that ya miss it often for the sake of gettin’ me dinner on the table in a timely way,” he admitted, walking to stand directly next to her before returning his attention to the skies. “I’ve wronged ya there, I have.”
“It’s no fault of yours,” she defended him. “I’ve chosen to do that…to prepare dinner at that time. But I’m sad if I’ve been missing this all along.”
“It’s not always this perfect. But there are times when it takes yar breath away and helps ya to forget all else in the world,” he noted.
Within minutes, the sun had dropped just enough to fade the colors, and darkness began to replace them.
“You’d miss it if you blinked,” Genieva whispered. The fragrance of ripened apples floated on the soft breezes, and she inhaled deeply—their sweet perfume bathing her senses. She was reminded of another coveted scent, and she looked quickly to Brevan. His attention was still captured by the scene being played out in the heavens. She was glad, for it gave her several moments of freedom to stare at him without worry of being caught at it. She thought back on her dreams of the night before. What a wonderful dream it had been. She remembered vividly the scent of his skin as she had lain in his arms. If only the security and bliss she had experienced in those dreams could be real. If only.
“Did ya enjoy yar day of…normality?” he asked, without looking to her.
“Yes. Yes and no. This morning was wonderful! Such a fun time spent visiting with Lita and Brenna. But after Juan Miguel and…” Genieva’s voice was lost as another thought entered her mind. Surely he did not mean to bring up in conversation their argument of the previous night—their argument ending in his threatening to…
“We mustn’t let the unpleasant events of today ruin our remainin’ evenin’ hours together,” Brevan mumbled.
Brevan struggled to keep an amused smile from spreading across his face. Genieva’s eyes, though wide with understanding and apprehension, were quickly turning from their docile hazel color to the soft amethyst color he preferred. He thought for a moment that perhaps the purples of sunset’s clouds had sifted themselves into her lovely eyes. He was determined to play this out. It was time he put Genieva where she belonged—really belonged.
“Let’s to supper then, lass,” Brevan said, motioning for
Genieva to precede him in reentering the house.
All through supper Genieva’s senses whirled. Her mind fought to devise ways of removing herself from the situation at hand. Silently, she tried to convince herself Brevan meant nothing by his remarks on the porch. She, being so terribly attracted to him and so hopelessly lost in her love for him, had simply misinterpreted his meaning. But as he looked up from his soup, winking at her, her nerves scattered to every venue but that of calm. Genieva looked away—tried to ignore the thrill washing over her at his flirtatious gesture. Quickly, she finished her meal and washed her own dishes and utensils. As she was putting her bowl in the cupboard, Brevan approached, placing his own dishes in the sink.
“Well, I’ll…I’ll um…get these done and turn in. Back to life as usual tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be all the further behind because of these past two days and…” Genieva babbled nervously. But when Brevan took her hands in his own, a knowing smile on his handsome face, she knew she was undone. She knew that no matter what his intention, whether he was teasing her or whether he was serious in his inference, she knew she had no power to resist him.
“We had an agreement, we did,” he said, lowering his voice as he gazed into her eyes. “Ya’ve had yar day. I’ll have me night, Genieva.”
Reaching over his shoulders, he grasped the back of his shirt, stripping it from his body and over his head, as was his predictable habit each evening. Yet this time, instead of tossing it haphazardly into the basket at the foot of his bed, he simply laid it on the counter next to the sink. Taking Genieva’s hands once more, he placed her palms on the warm flesh of his chest.
“I-I had better check those cuts you got today, Brevan. They might…they might…” Her words were lost as he bent and placed a soft kiss on her left cheek.
“Me wounds are fine, lass,” he whispered.
“Brevan,” she said, swallowing the lump of anxiety forming in her throat. “You don’t really mean to…to…”
“To what, Genieva?” he asked. His quiet chuckle revealed he knew full well what she meant. Abruptly, she pulled her hands from his body, turned, and walked quickly toward her room.
“I’ll be up all the earlier, Brevan. You’ve made your point, and I’ll not ask for another day off any time soon,” she called over her shoulder. Once inside her room, she shut her door, only to have him open it immediately, enter, and close it slowly behind himself. There was no light save that of the moon shining through her open windows, for she had not yet turned up the lantern at her bedside. The lace curtains adorning the window blew softly in the apple-scented breeze that wafted through the room. Reaching down, Brevan turned up the lamp sitting on the table next to the head of Genieva’s bed.
“So ya’re runnin’ from me then?” he asked, grinning with delicious mischief. “You’ll not pay the debt ya owe me for lettin’ ya have yar day of rest?”
“Y-you don’t really want me to anyway, Brevan,” Genieva said. “And anyway…I spent half the day waiting on Lita and the baby and the other half worrying about the Archuletas showing up at any moment.”
“Did ya milk the cows this mornin’, lass?” he asked as he slowly approached. Genieva’s legs were already braced against the side of her bed. There was no escaping him short of bolting out the open window.
“Well, no, but…” she began.
“Did ya pick the ripe vegetables in the garden today, Genieva?”
“No. I…”
“Did ya feed the chickens or mend me shirts—the ones ya’ve been poppin’ the buttons off—or brush down me horses or water the stock or…”
“No!” she exclaimed. “No. You know I didn’t.”
“Then ya’ve had yar day, lass. And the sun has set. The night is upon ya now,” breathtaking Brevan McLean mumbled in a low, alluring voice. Reaching out, he gathered Genieva into his arms, pulling her body flush with his own as his mouth took hers in a scalding, commanding kiss. At the first touch of his lips to hers, Genieva melted against him—like butter in a hot cast-iron skillet. The scent of his skin filled her mind—the feel of it beneath her palms causing goose bumps to ripple over her body, as she let her hands slide up over his shoulders to return his embrace.
He was like a necessary nourishment to her—a nectar—like tasting the beauty the sunset had painted across the evening skies! Brevan was the wonderment of her existence—her own allotment of heaven! And there was more. As his kiss intensified—as it favored her cheeks, neck, and mouth once more—she sensed he yet held himself in careful resistance. His threat had been just that, a threat. Somehow the sudden thought saddened Genieva, and she pushed herself from him, sitting down solidly on her bed.
“Let’s stop this foolishness,” she mumbled, restraining tears of hurt—for in those blessed brief moments, she had thought that he really did love her somehow. Or at least found her attractive—attractive enough to deem her worthy of his true affections.
Brevan sighed. Hunkering down before her, he took her hands in his. When she tried to pull them from his grasp, he tightened his grip.
“I can’t fool ya for long, lass…can I?” he said. Chuckling, he continued, “Ya know me well enough, ya do. Well enough to know I’d never force ya to do anythin’ ya didn’t want to do of yar own free will and decision. No matter what me own desires might be.”
Genieva looked to him quickly and asked, “What?”
Standing, he plopped himself abruptly down on the bed next to her. Lying back, he tucked his hands behind his head and explained, “I’ve wronged ya, Genieva, and I’m admittin’ it to ya here and now. It’s wrong I’ve been, to work ya like a jenny, expectin’ ya to do the chorin’ that Brian and me used to split when he was here.” He sat up and looked at her. His expression changed—softened with humility. “But I’m repentin’, and things are goin’ to be of a difference now.”
“What?” Genieva asked again. Her mind was still buzzing from his previous remarks. She wasn’t sure what his implications now were.
“I’m tellin’ ya that yar duties are changin’, lass…for the better. I do need help with certain things on the farm. It’s hard for me to get out and milk the cows mornin’ and evenin’ with everythin’ else tuggin’ at me. And the chickens…if ya could still see yar way to tendin’ them and gatherin’ the eggs. And I won’t lie to ya about the orchards…when the pears and apples need pickin’, it’ll take both of us and then some hired boys from town to get the job done. But ya’re me wife, not me slave, and the terrible pace ya’ve been keepin’ up needs to slow down. I realized it for sure and for certain last night when ya snapped at me so.”
“I’m sorry about that. I was just…”
“Very, very tired,” he finished for her. “I know that. And it’s me own fault, it is. I…I…” he stammered, looking away. “I don’t fear much in this world, but I do fear distraction, Genieva. It’s a life’s load of work on this farm that I have, and I admit to ya here and now…ya distract me. I think I worked ya so hard on purpose to make certain the both of us were so tired and testy at night that there would be no liveliness left for…any other…activities.”
Genieva’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at what he had just confessed to her. She turned to stare at him. Brevan looked back to her, having sensed her staring, and said, “Well, it’s a man I be, Genieva McLean! As regular a man as any other, and ya are a great deal better lookin’ than I had expected. It’s only natural that I should find ya…distractin’.”
“It’s why you wanted an older wife. You wanted a plump, perhaps unattractive woman that wouldn’t tempt your…” she began, but Brevan’s hand covered her mouth quickly, and he shook his head.
“Don’t speak of it. ’Twas a shallow and selfish thing to do, and I would like to put it as far behind me as I can,” he explained.
“…masculine needs,” Genieva finished, pushing his hand from her mouth.
“Needs have nothin’ to do with it, lass,” he corrected. “A man needs to work, to succeed at somethin’. If he c
an keep busy doin’ such things, the other needs can be put aside. But put the cute lass before him and in his path every day, and it’s distractin’ to him. And no amount of hard work keeps his mind and body from thinkin’ on the feel of her form in his arms and the taste of her mouth to his.”
“But…it’s only me you have here, Brevan. Surely I don’t cause…”
“I’ve confessed all I mean to confess to ya this night, Genieva,” Brevan interrupted, standing and looking down at her. “I’ve done a great wrong to ya, and I ask yar forgiveness with a promise to change me ways about it. Ya’ll still have to do the work of a farmer’s wife…the work Brenna and Lita do…but no more. From now on, I hope ya won’t be so tired that ya fly at me as ya did last night. At least, not as often.”
Genieva giggled, and when he looked at her—puzzled—she explained, “You were just battling with me last night then. You had me fooled, Brevan. I truly thought you intended…that just moments ago you were thinking of…”
The serious expression on his face caused her to pause.
“When I said it to ya last evenin’, I did mean it, Genieva. I meant to have ya here and now. But me mind has settled durin’ the day, and I realized the error of me ways in workin’ ya so hard. So I’ve let ya escape me…this time.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him, only to return a moment later, walk to her open window, and slam it firmly shut, securing the latch. “Ya’ll sleep with that window closed from now on, ya will. We can’t ignore the danger any longer.” He did leave then—for good.
Genieva lay awake for a long time. Her mind and emotions were whirling with activity as they reviewed over and over the things he had said to her. Could it be true? Could he really find her attractive? Enough so that he’d felt the need to find ways of occupying himself, and her, in order to avoid giving in to his desires? And would she really be able to live the life of a wife where chores were concerned, instead of that of a hired hand? At last, she fell into a deep slumber, remembering the taste of his mouth when he’d kissed her and the wondrous feel of his arms about her body.
The Heavenly Surrender Page 24