He lifted his head and gazed down over her body, his eyes searing a path. “I spend hours every day wondering what kind of underwear you’ve got on.”
Today she was wearing black lace, a pretty push-up bra that made the most of her insignificant cleavage, and high, French-cut panties, and she was thankful again for her brief sojourn in lingerie sales. Marty loved her underwear—he’d even gotten her a camisole in deep-wine-red during a trip to the mall last weekend, and she’d worn it the very same evening. For a few minutes.
Now she twisted her arm behind her back and unhooked the bra, tossing it aside as he donned protection. Marty looked up and smiled as he caught her watching him, but there was a feral quality to the expression. He caught her by the hips and dragged her against him, burning her flesh with the heat consuming him, guiding her back and forth in a twisting motion that brushed her breasts against his ridged stomach. He was so much larger than she was that sometimes she felt like a doll in his arms. As he bent his head and sought her lips again, he pushed her head back against the muscled power of his arm. As he devoured her, she felt his other hand slip down her belly, sliding beneath the edge of her panties and probing the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, curving down between her legs to the slippery cleft where she pulsed with heat and need.
“Ah,” he crooned against her mouth. “You’re so wet for me. So wet…”
She felt him tugging the leg of her panties aside as he lifted her with his other arm, pressing himself against her, and without even removing the panties, his blunt column of searing man flesh slid securely into the snug channel of her body.
They both groaned. She lifted her legs and linked them around his hips, and he briefly closed his eyes as he growled, “I love it when you do that.”
She wrapped her arms around his strong neck, clinging to him as he began to thrust. Her body quivered beneath his powerful motions, swelling waves of desire pushing her higher and higher for long moments until she hung suspended at the peak for one breathless instant. Then her body began to convulse, drawing her taut in repeated spasms in his arms, and he made a low sound in his throat, holding himself perfectly still as her flesh squeezed his in the ultimate intimacy. When she finally lay limp and panting against his chest, he began to move again, thrusting in and out of her in great surging motions, gripping her hips and sliding her up and down, taking her into a second maelstrom of sexual urgency, firing her response again until she climaxed again at the same instant he did. His teeth were gritted, the cords in his neck stood out in rigid detail, and he locked her to him with steely arms until they both were still.
There was no sound in the kitchen for a long, laden moment. She expected him to set her on her feet, and she was mildly shocked when he simply wrapped a brawny arm beneath her bottom again and began to walk toward the stairs.
“Marty!” She began to protest, but he stopped her words with a hard kiss.
When he lifted his head, she could do nothing more than offer him a dreamy smile. “Whatever you say, O master.”
He grinned. “I say we head for bed.” He rolled his hips against her once, his still-taut length drawing a surprising pulse of response from her.
But as he set a foot on the bottom step, the telephone rang. He stopped. Swore. Retraced his path to the kitchen, still carrying her.
“This better be good,” he muttered as he reached for the phone. “Or I’m going to kill whoever’s on the other end… Lucky Stryke,” he said into the handset.
Juliette couldn’t hear the speaker, but she watched as his brows snapped together and his face grew grim. “She’s not available. Can I take a message?” Apparently, the speaker had plenty to say because he listened silently for a long, tense moment. Finally he spoke again. “Listen, lady, Juliette will not ever give in to your bully behavior. She and Bobby belong here now. If she wants to invite you to visit, that’s her decision and we’ll make you welcome. But if you call here one more time with that attitude, I’m going to be filing harassment charges against you to prohibit you from calling or visiting at all. Is that clear?”
Juliette listened in stunned silence as she realized the caller must be her former mother-in-law, Millicent. Her heart gave a small leap of pleasure when he spoke Bobby’s name. It was the first time since…since ever that she’d heard him call her child anything other than “he” or “the kid.” Her heart warmed even more at the way he defended her, and she wondered if Millicent was smart enough to heed his warning.
When he slapped the handset back on its cradle, her mind was still reeling. But Marty acted as if nothing had happened. “Now,” he said. “I believe we were heading for the bedroom…?”
The other flaw in the growing perfection of her life was Marty’s continued avoidance of her son. Throughout the early weeks of the new year and her new marriage, he had studiously steered clear of any chance that he might have to come face-to-face with Bobby.
He’d defended her son against Millicent’s aggressive tactics, though Juliette feared his outspoken attitude might lead to costly legal repercussions. Since that day, she’d hoped even more strongly that Marty would accept her son, but he didn’t appear to be any closer to doing so than he had been the day they’d arrived.
But one night toward the end of February, something happened to give her hope again. She was bathing Cheyenne when Marty came in from the barn.
She heard him come in, earlier than usual, and she called out, “Hi. We’re almost done up here. There’s a plate in the oven for you.”
She finished bathing Cheyenne quickly, as anxious as the little girl to see Marty, but as she was toweling dry Cheyenne’s hair, she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Before she knew it, he was in the bathroom with them, kissing her hello and kneeling to hug his daughter. Then he froze.
Bobby was in his little seat where he usually stayed during Cheyenne’s bath. He was fed and dry and happy as a fat little lamb, kicking his tiny feet and waving his arms in a vain and uncoordinated effort to touch one of the toys hanging from the crossbar above him.
Marty’s position put him almost directly in front of the baby. He couldn’t fail to see him, and Juliette froze, as well. She expected him to bolt from the room but he didn’t.
Cheyenne giggled and pointed to her stepbrother. “Look, Daddy, Bobby’s trying to grab that.”
Slowly Marty nodded. He looked at the infant. “I see.” Then he reached out and touched a tentative finger to Bobby’s small, stockinged foot. “It’s hard to believe you were ever that small,” he said to Cheyenne.
Juliette’s heart skipped a beat. She had to stop herself from reaching out to hug him. Instead, as he rose to his feet and casually took his daughter’s hand, she forced herself to act normally, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She lifted Bobby and carried him down with her, making his bottle and feeding him before putting him down for the night, just as she always did. But her heart was singing.
The lingering tension in the house began to ease even more in the last week of the month. Marty stopped on his way through the kitchen one day and lifted the infant seat from the counter, positioning it facing the room instead of the wall. “He must be getting tired of that wallpaper,” was all he said, but she took it as a sign that the sight of the baby no longer hurt his heart as it once had.
And her heart swelled with hope.
One morning Marty brought in an ice-covered early calf found shivering beside its mother, who’d calved out on a hillside. It wasn’t moving much at all. It had been only twenty degrees this morning and who know how long the poor little thing had been lying out there? Marty brought the baby into the utility room and set it in a tub of warm water in the utility room.
The baby, a little bull, recovered quickly as he warmed up and by the time Juliette and Cheyenne had him dried off, they both were soaked. When Marty came back to check him later, the calf was charging around the utility room bawling for mama and Juliette was laughing herself silly as Cheyenne sat on top of the dryer and w
atched her try to calm the little bull.
The phone rang, and she absently walked into the kitchen. “Hello?”
“My water broke. We’re on our way to the hospital!” It was Silver. Her due date had come and gone, and she’d been planning to go to stay in Rapid City tomorrow until the baby was born, because another storm was predicted.
Juliette jumped up and down. “Oh, good luck!” Then she remembered what labor and delivery was like, and she chuckled. “You’re going to need it.”
“Thanks.” Silver’s voice was wry. “My contractions are still pretty mild and not frequent at all, but Deck isn’t taking any chances. I figure he’ll get me there in plenty of time to pace around for hours and hours.”
When she hung up the phone, she turned to Marty, excitement dancing a fast jig in her stomach. “Silver’s in labor. With a little luck, things’ll go fast and you’ll have a new niece or nephew tonight.” She smiled at Marty, but her smile died half-born as she caught sight of the look on his face.
Without a word he wheeled and left the house, and she watched through the window as he strode along the shoveled path to the barn and disappeared inside.
Her heart, always tender and easily bruised where he was concerned, felt as thought it might shatter and fall right out of her chest. Though he still avoided Bobby, he didn’t completely ignore the infant, and he hadn’t seemed as tense and upset recently. A fragile hope had begun to take root within her, a hope that eventually he’d be able to accept her son.
But seeing his reaction to the news of his own brother’s child’s imminent arrival, she was forced to acknowledge that she’d been deluding herself, donning rose-colored glasses and refusing to see the grimmer, darker shades of his inability to open himself up to a baby again.
The knowledge was doubly troubling. She’d been silently eyeing her calendar for almost two weeks now. She’d missed her period in the middle of February, but she’d ignored it, telling herself it was just the strain of her new life. Right. It did have something to do with her new life, but she was afraid it wasn’t just strain. It was one big virile hunk named Marty Stryker.
She knew when it had happened, too, and every time she walked into the pantry she shivered with pleasure at the memory of that wild, hot lovemaking. The time Marty had made love to her in the little room replayed itself again and again in her mind. Only now the delight she’d taken in the memory was tinged with distress. If she was pregnant, Marty would never be able to deal with it. What would she do?
He couldn’t shake the terrible fear that gripped him as the hours crept by. It was—he glanced at the clock on the wall of the barn—almost four o’clock, and Silver had been in labor for half a day now. He wasn’t normally a praying man, but he prayed now. Prayed that nothing would happen to her, that she’d survive this ordeal. Deck needed her so badly.
And the whole time, he fought images of Lora, soaking the seat of his truck with her blood as he frantically drove toward Rapid City.
He knew he should go into the house, knew he wasn’t being fair, that Juliette was probably worried sick about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Finally, when the light faded from the winter sky, he forced himself to leave the sanctuary of the barn.
He steeled himself as he opened the back door, a frightening feeling of helplessness crashing over him. Lora had needed help that he couldn’t give, and she’d died. Childbearing was a risky business, as he knew from the work he did every day. If something happened to Silver, his brother might not survive it.
Juliette was in the kitchen. She didn’t look up or speak, and the dread in his chest congealed into a hard knot of fear. “Have…have you heard anything?” he croaked.
She looked up. Smiled. “You have a niece,” she said. “At two-twenty this afternoon.”
He could barely get the question out. “And… Silver?”
“Smug.” Juliette laughed. “Labor was a breeze and she’d do it again tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes. “My labor with Bobby was short but my memory is vivid. No way would I volunteer to do that again right away—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m going to the hospital tonight. Lyn’s coming over to take care of the children.”
Relief so intense it actually hurt was sweeping through him, and he sat down at the kitchen table before his legs gave out. “Thank God,” he muttered. Then, as it really began to hit him that Silver was all right, he smiled back at Juliette. “Think I’ll go with you,” he said.
They drove to the hospital after a quick dinner, leaving the kids in Lyn’s capable hands.
Parking in the lot outside the hospital, Marty was struck by a wave of memories, but he shoved them back. Things had gone right, for once, and he wasn’t about to miss a chance to visit a hospital for a happy occasion.
They took the elevator to the birthing unit and found Silver’s room. Marty took a deep breath. He could do this. He could. He saw the edge of the rolling bassinet around the corner of the partially drawn curtain, and just then he felt Juliette slide her small hand into his and squeeze.
He turned his head and looked down into her wide blue eyes, saw the compassion there and lifted her fingers to his lips. “Thank you.”
And then the edge of the curtain was lifted aside, and Deck was grinning at them. “Hey! Hi! Come on in and meet the newest member of the family.” His eyes telegraphed a concern that was at odds with his exuberant tone, but when Marty smiled at him, the tension in his face eased.
“So where’s this beautiful girl?” Marty asked.
From behind the curtain, Silver’s voice said, “Right here.” Then she laughed. “Oh, you don’t mean me!”
They entered the cubicle as Deck stepped to his wife’s side and leaned over to place a tender kiss on her lips. If Marty hadn’t been such a tough guy, the sight just might have made him bawl a little. It was so good to see Deck smile, to see joy replace the dark ache in his eyes that had mirrored his soul’s sorrow for so many years after his twin had died.
Deck straightened from the kiss, still looking at his wife. “You’ll always be beautiful to me,” he said.
The open love in his tone made Marty a little uncomfortable. Again he was reminded of how his life had changed since Cheyenne’s birth, when he’d stood in this hospital with the woman he loved.
Now he stood here with another wife beside him. One he’d married for far more practical reasons than love, one he desired so strongly that he could no longer imagine his life without her.
“And this,” Deck said, indicating the bundle cuddled in the curve of Silver’s arm, “is the other beauty in our family. Erica Silver Stryker, meet your aunt and uncle.”
Juliette stepped forward, blocking Marty’s view of the infant as Silver slipped the blanket back. “Well, hello, you little doll,” she said inspecting the baby. She straightened and there were tears in her eyes. “She’s perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”
Curious, Marty stepped around her for a better view. The baby was tiny. Erica made Bobby seem enormous and full-grown, though there was actually less than half a year between their birthdates. She had a fuzzy cap of dark curls, and when she opened her eyes and looked around with the peculiar myopic stare that newborns possessed, he could see a distinctive ring of silver in each of the dark-blue irises.
“You’re going to be as gorgeous as your mama,” he told his new niece. “And it’s a good thing, since your daddy’s as homely as a cow chip.”
He stroked a finger along her downy cheek and laughed when her little mouth automatically began rooting around, thinking a meal was on the way. “You’re really something, little gal.”
He straightened up, still grinning. Deck and Juliette were both staring at him with identical incredulous expressions.
“What?” he asked.
“Ah, nothing,” said Deck hastily. “Nothing.”
But he knew. They’d been waiting for his reaction. It struck him suddenly that the reason Juliette had stepped in front of him was to spare him having to look at
the baby.
He put an arm around her shoulders and caressed her neck with his thumb, silently telling her how much he appreciated her. “I guess you’re going to want all the details now,” was all he said to her.
“You bet.” She held out her arms to Silver. “And I want to get my hands on that baby.”
They left the women to talk baby stuff for a few minutes and walked out into the hallway. Marty playfully punched Deck in the arm. “You’re doing good, little bro.”
The brothers’ eyes met.
“It still makes me sad,” Deck said, “but I’ve finally moved on. Have you?”
Marty knew he wasn’t referring to the death of their sister, but of his wife and son, and he knew he couldn’t confront the images that waited. He’d conquered a lot of things, but… Carefully, he shrugged his shoulders. “More or less.”
Deck’s eyes narrowed. “Less.” He slung an arm around Marty’s shoulders as they walked back down the hall toward Silver’s room. “I’m here if you need me.”
The simple words clogged Marty’s throat, and for a moment he couldn’t answer. “Thanks,” he finally managed. “But I’m okay.”
Seven
On the first of March, a foot of snow fell. Highways and businesses were closed, but Marty and Deck still had to go out to feed the cattle they’d brought to the corral yesterday. All the cows ran into the corral to eat as the men pitched out the hay, and in the melee several calves got separated from their mothers and left behind.
Juliette had taken Cheyenne out to build a snowman while Bobby took his morning nap, and they watched as Marty and his brother chased down the group of calves that took off toward the creek. One, alone and panicked, ran the other way.
Juliette called out, then realized that the men wouldn’t be able to hear her and certainly wouldn’t be able to leave the calves they were collecting. She looked at Cheyenne. “I have to get that calf, honey. Can you go back in the house and take off your wet things? I’ll be in as soon as I catch him.”
Tall, Dark & Western Page 11