“You best get on your way then. I’ll tie Bunny to your wagon.” John headed for the barn.
“Did you see the San Miguel Times, Mike?” Marcie smiled like a cat in the cream.
“No. I meant to pick one up, but I plumb forgot. Is there something special in it?” he asked.
“There certainly is. Let me get it.” Marcie disappeared into the house and returned with the single sheet newspaper in her hand. “You just made the deadline for this issue.”
Mike perused it with furrowed brow. “Hey. Look at this Megan. Under Arrivals. Megan O’Shanahan arrived on the noon stage Friday, August 7.”
“Keep looking, Mike. There’s more.” Marcie clapped her hands and gave a little hop.
“Well, if this ain’t something. Listen, Megan.” He read aloud. “Megan O’Shanahan Weds Michael Manning. Megan O’Shanahan, recently of Boston, married Michael Manning, owner of the Circle M Ranch, on Friday, the seventh of August. A private ceremony at the home of the groom celebrated the event. The editor of this paper would like to be one of the first to welcome the new Mrs. Manning to our town.”
Mike pulled his wife into a hug. “We’re official, darlin’. It’s been in the news.” He glanced at Marcie over Megan’s head. “Can we keep this?”
“Of course.” She paused. “My sister and her family are coming to town for the dance. It’s the last Saturday of the month. Why don’t you join us for dinner first? Megan can meet Amanda and Tom, and you’ll be closer to town when the fun starts.”
“Thank you, Marcie. That sounds mighty nice.” Mike dropped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ll see you then.”
“They are lovely folk.” Megan sighed.
“Yes, they are.” Mike lifted Megan into the wagon and his long, muscled body followed close behind. He lifted her into his lap, put his arms around her and snapped the reins.
He liked Megan, and he hoped she was starting to like him. But if he had to wait too much longer to claim her, he might split his britches. Lord have mercy.
Chapter 5
Megan
Megan ran her hand over her beautiful, black sewing machine. She had never had so fine a gift. Never. Placing fabric under the needle, she pushed the pedal with her foot and set a lovely rhythm, small stitches appearing as if by magic.
She had finished new curtains for their room and was putting the finishing touches on the new quilt. Lupe had shown her a big chest full of crisp white sheets embroidered with lace, dishes painted with delicate patterns of rose and creeping vines, crocheted doilies and, best of all, beautiful nightgowns in pale shades of pink, lilac and blue. Uncle Ray’s wife had owned these lovely things, and when she died in childbed, he had folded them away. Lupe said Megan should put all of it to good use. And she had. Their room had been transformed into a little oasis of beauty. She asked Michael not to peek until she finished, and he had been as good as his word.
Megan pulled the fabric from the machine and clipped the thread. She carried the new blanket across the hall to their future bedroom and spread it over fresh sheets. Perfect. She slipped over to the window turning her eyes in the direction Michael and the men had ridden in the morning and was rewarded by a small cloud of dust headed her way.
Much as she loved sewing and helping Lupe in the kitchen, her favorite part of the day was about to begin. The part where Michael returned from the range early and taught her to ride and shoot. When he stood close behind her and circled his arms around to help her aim the gun, or pulled her onto the saddle in front of him, her body vibrated with a need she didn’t fully understand. But, she knew he held the answer.
To avoid a scolding, she hurried to her room and pulled on the split skirt and tied a bonnet under her chin. She skimmed down the stairs and took up her position on the swing, waiting for Michael to teach her.
“Hey, darlin’.” Michael pulled his large horse to a stop and swung his long legs to the ground. “I thought we’d walk to the river today. I’ll bring your gun for a little practice, but I’d like to spend some quiet time with you.” He draped his arm over her shoulders. “What do you think?”
“Oh, Michael, that sounds wonderful.” She snuggled into his side.
“I’ll be right back. I need to wash and change my shirt and get Chester taken care of. Wait for me.” He squeezed her arm before heading for the barn.
Megan closed her eyes and focused on the rush of heat between her thighs. Soon, she would show him the room, and then learn the answer to this wet heat between her legs.
His footsteps ended her reverie. “Let’s go. Lupe packed us a snack, and I have your gun. It’s never safe to leave the house without a gun, Megan. When you are better with your gun, and I allow you to go farther than the yard, remember that. Never go without a gun.” He pierced her with his gaze.
“All right. Never go without a gun,” Megan repeated.
He took her hand and helped her from the swing. “This way. There’s a path that leads from the house to the river. Skip and I wore it down to dirt as boys. It’s a little faint now.” He led her to the back of the house and pointed at the ground. She might have missed it on her own, but now that she looked, the grass had not completely concealed the trail of dirt. He walked beside her in the grass, allowing her the trampled course.
He was such a good man. Kind. Generous. Honest. Her heart clenched. Honest. She should tell him about Boston. She should tell him about that man. But, she didn’t want to break the chain of comfort they were building one link at a time. She wanted to add a link or two, not subtract them. If he knew the whole truth, he might send her away, and she couldn’t bear it. At the very least he would be angry, for certain sure. He had said there must be no blarney, and there was blarney a plenty.
“Careful. Watch your step.” Michael pulled her hand up as she stumbled over an exposed root. “What are you thinking about? You looked a million miles away.”
“Nothing.” She groaned. More blarney. “Just enjoying the day.”
“Watch carefully. The path turns to the left here. If we miss it, we’ll wander onto the range.” Michael stopped until she looked at her feet. “Do you see it?”
“I do.” She nodded.
Hand in hand, they continued for another mile when the sparkling blue of the water appeared on the horizon.
“Skip and I used to swim here whenever we had the chance. Uncle Ray would have tanned us good if he had known. There’s cottonmouth snakes in the river. They’re dangerous, Megan.” He gave her hand a shake that felt like a warning. “If you see one, back away if you can and shoot if you can’t.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Can’t imagine how we managed not to get bit.”
Megan stood still. The soft gurgle of the water, the rush of the wind across her face, the feel of his hand held such beauty. She swallowed emotions, thick and pungent.
“I know.” Michael said. “I love this spot, too. It’s where I always come to think and be alone. It felt right to share it with you. Megan, I…” He stopped and turned her body to face him. He cupped her face with his hands and ran his thumbs over the freckles that dusted her cheeks. Dropping his hands to her waist, he pulled her close.
Megan ran her hands up his chest and over the muscles of his abdomen. His masculinity called to her, enticed her, beckoned her closer, closer. His hands went under her bottom and he lifted her up and up until she felt his hardness. She instinctively opened her legs and encircled his waist. He growled and lowered his head until his lips met hers. The kiss was not a demand. It was a request, and she eagerly agreed.
Their tongues took up a dance. She didn’t remember learning the steps, but they came to her unbidden and complete. As the thrusting tongue tempo became harder, deeper, more insistent, his hands kneaded the same rhythm into her bottom. She heard more groans, growls, gasps, but this time she thought they might be hers.
Breaking the kiss, he lowered her to the ground. He held her head at his chest while she listened to his galloping heart.
“I won’t
take you for the first time on the ground, Megan. You deserve better. We deserve better, but by all that’s holy, I hope that room is finished.” He gave a strangled laugh that sounded a bit like a cry.
“’Tis.” She relaxed and inhaled the scent of horse, soap and man that was Michael.
“Will you meet me there tonight?”
Her heart seized. He could simply take her. It was his right to do so, and yet he asked. That man and his grasping, pulling, tearing hands came unbidden to mind. She froze. She should tell him. He should know what his wife had done.
“If you’re not ready, I can wait. Lord knows I don’t want to, but I can. Your choice, darlin’.” He rubbed a gentle pattern on her back.
“No, I want you, Michael. The room is ready. I’m ready. Tonight.” She sealed the promise with a kiss placed where the opening of his shirt offered her a triangle of sweet, naked flesh.
“Let’s see what Lupe sent.” Michael pulled a small blanket from the basket. He looked around before spreading it on the ground. “Always check for snakes before you sit down. They are most often in the water, but they like to curl up on the banks too.” When he was satisfied, he helped her to the ground before joining her himself. They shared the apples, cheese, and hard boiled eggs and washed it down with cool water from the river.
Megan snuggled into her man and rested her head on his shoulder. The promise of the night stretched before her. She was a bit frightened, but she knew the general way of things, and she trusted Michael to know more than the general way. He would fill in the details. He would solve the mystery of the aching emptiness riding in her womb.
Chapter 6
Mike
Mike placed a forkful of food in his mouth and looked in surprise at his empty plate. Lupe’s dinners were always delicious, but he had not tasted a single bite. Two more hours stretched before him before he could decently take his bride to bed. He’d take her in broad daylight, and he would later when he had the chance, but tonight she deserved a little formality, a proper bedtime. He sighed.
Megan rose from the table and helped Lupe gather dishes and carry them to the kitchen. “Dinner was wonderful, Lupe. Before you go, you must teach me these recipes.” Her voice faded as the door swung shut. She would help with the dishes before joining him on the porch. It was one of the things he loved about her. Her desire to help, to be useful. Love. The word floated about in his mind looking for a place to anchor.
Did he love her? She breathed new life into the house with her gentle Irish brogue and sweet, earnest ways. Chairs moved to more comfortable positions, feminine details now decorated the rooms and her laugh shot like an arrow through his body and pierced his manhood. He was on his way toward love, anyway. He pulled air into his lungs and held it before expelling it with a whoosh. One more hour.
Mike carried his coffee to the porch and lowered himself into the swing. He hoped she would join him. Lord have mercy, they were going to bed early tonight. He could barely sit still the urge to claim her pulsed so urgently. He sipped his coffee, tapped his hand against his thigh, and adjusted his pants.
Megan drifted from the house and settled next to him on the swing. He lifted her onto his lap and pulled her close. He rubbed his hand up and down her bony spine and over her sharp shoulder blades. The delicacy of her bones sent a shiver racing through his body. She needed more meat on her bones. He was going to see to it.
He wanted her to be more solid, more sturdy. This fragile skeleton couldn’t possibly keep her from injury, protect her from harm. Their hands lay side by side – his darker, and more than twice the size of hers. Her tiny wrist disappeared into her sleeve but the bone protruded sharp and angular. He enfolded her more tightly into his embrace. He would keep her safe. It was a husband’s duty, after all, and one he was pledged to.
“Have you moved your things into our new room?” He placed a kiss behind her ear.
“I have.”
“Go get ready for bed, darlin’. I’ll be up in ten minutes.” Another hour be damned. He added a kiss to her jaw and one to her neck for good measure. Lifting her from his lap, he set her gently on her feet and gave her bottom a soft swat. “Go.”
Pulling his shirt over his head, he strode to the pump in the yard. He would wash the range off his body. He removed his pants before pouring buckets of water over his head. Satisfied, he shoved first one leg and then the other back into his pants and headed for the house. If ten minutes hadn’t passed, he didn’t care. Time was up.
He paused at the door. Should he knock? Reaching a compromise with himself, he tapped once with the back of his knuckle before pushing the door open. Megan sat at the dressing table trying to brush the riot of her hair into order.
“Here. Let me.” Mike lifted the brush from her hand.
“Oh, this hair is the tragedy of my life. I usually just comb it with my fingers, but I thought tonight I’d try a regular comb out.” Megan watched in the mirror as he tried to pull the bristles through the corkscrew waves.
“I see what you mean.” He laid the brush on the table and ran his fingers through her hair pausing to gently detangle as he went. “This brush is useless for your hair, but I might find another purpose for it sometime.” His eyes met hers in the mirror, and he raised his eyebrows in question.
“No, you wouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Only if you were very naughty, darlin’.” He continued his attentions. “I love your hair. The first time I saw you, when you arrived with the sheriff and the preacher, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I imagined it spread out on my pillow even then—on that first day.” He spread the flaming curls over her shoulders and down her back.
Placing one arm under her knees and other the behind her back, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and took his time arranging the hair to his satisfaction. He stood back to admire his handiwork but shook his head.
“Something isn’t right.” His eyes drifted down her body draped completely in a pale blue gown. “That is a mighty pretty nightgown, but when I imagined all that red hair on my pillow, you were naked. Yes, that’s the problem. Sit up, and I’ll help you.”
Megan giggled, but did as commanded. She lifted her arms over her head, and the offending garment was whisked over her head.
He helped her lie back once more and arranged her hair around her face. This time he wound some around his fist and branded her with a kiss, hot and hard. His free hand rubbed one breast and then the other, pinching and pulling at her nipples until they rose hard against his palm. He released her hair and pulled one nipple into his mouth while massaging the other.
Megan arched her back, small whimpers escaped her lips as she pressed her head into the pillow. He took the opportunity to kiss her neck and give her earlobe a gentle bite. His hands moved over her stomach, across her abdomen and down her legs. He stroked her thighs, and Megan squirmed with need.
“Michael,” she begged.
He placed his hand on her abdomen. “Shhh. Not yet. Lie still.”
He wanted her wild with need, mindless. Then he would give her what she craved and not before. He picked up one foot and bending her leg at the knee, set it close to her bottom. He did the same with the other.
Pausing, he moved to the end of the bed. He would see, then touch, then taste. She would be a feast.
Keeping his eyes fixed on her, he pulled his pants off and tossed them aside. Her eyes widened as his manhood sprang free, and she dropped her knees together.
“Now, none of that, darlin’.” He set himself in front of her bent legs. “Nothing that happens in this room is wrong. We’re married. We are free to enjoy and share our bodies.” He pressed her knees toward the bed and gazed at her luscious pink parts.
“But I think you’re too big.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth, a sign of anxiety and distress he had come to understand.
“I thank you for the compliment, darlin’. Do you trust me?” He traced the outline of her femininity with one long finger.
>
“I do.” She shivered.
“Then relax and let me lead.” He sent her a half-smile, crooked and compelling.
He slipped that long finger into the moist cave of her body and stroked in, out, in, out. Megan twisted and pushed her body toward him. Mike placed his thumb on her little nub and pressed, moving his thumb in a circle. Her body rose off the bed in a jerk. Keeping the motion of his thumb steady, he added a second finger and increased the speed of his invasion. She was wet with need. Hot with desire. Begging for attention.
He removed his hand and Megan groaned in dismay. Pushing her legs farther apart, he dropped his head to her center and let his tongue taste.
“Oh, Megan, darlin’, you taste so good. I could stay right here and never starve. Lord have mercy.” He returned to his work, licking and paying close attention to her special spot. When his tongue explored her channel, Megan sank her fingers into his hair and held on tight.
She was almost there. Another time he would watch her fall to her completion from his hands alone, but tonight he wanted her to go over with him inside her.
He laid over the length of her, keeping her legs spread wide with his body. She stilled at the feel of him at her entrance and tried to wiggle away.
“It’s all right. Stay still,” he whispered into her ear, then waited until her body relaxed.
He penetrated and waited again, letting her become accustomed to his invasion. He moved farther and came to the barrier of her virginity. Pulling back, he drove forward in one hard thrust, swallowing her cry in his kiss. He was fully seated now and waiting for his bride to accept him, accommodate him, want him.
He began a rhythm, slow and gentle. Her pelvis returned his demands, and her hands roamed his back and pulled on his buttocks. At this signal, Mike began the serious work of making love, hard and sweet. Over and over again, he pulled himself to her entrance and drove himself to the end of her cavern. He battered against her womb until her head thrashed on her pillow and her hands fisted over her head.
Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One Page 4