Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One

by Phelps, Victoria

  Megan cried and cried. Her shoulders heaved and shattering sobs filled the room with their choking distress. The weight of Michael’s hands resting on her shoulders brought a new torrent of tears.

  “What’s all this fuss about? It’s a spanking. I’m not going to kill you.” He turned her to face him. “Tell me,” he commanded.

  Oh, she wanted to. She did. She wanted the blessed relief that would come with laying her troubles at his feet. She yearned to tell him of the night she fled and about that man. Michael was a kind man, and an honest one and a fair one. But justice flowed through his veins like water flowed in a river, relentless and without doubt. If he knew, he would call the sheriff. There would be no other choice. He would not live under such a cloud. When the truth came out, she might go to jail or worse. She wailed. She wept. She threw herself against his chest. Bigger than her fear of jail was her fear of losing him. She couldn’t bear it.

  “Tell me,” he repeated the command. His terse voice matched his rigid posture.

  Megan gulped for air before venturing to speak. “I feel… feel so guilty.” She clung to his shirt with her small hands.

  “Guilty about not having your gun?”

  “Yes.” She burrowed her head into his chest.

  “Well, this seems like a lot of tears for that. I don’t understand it.” He paused. “Is there something else bothering you? Tell me. No blarney.”

  He threw her a lifeline. She could grab on and let him pull her in if she weren’t so afraid of what waited on the shore. “No.” She shook her head against the wall of his chest. “Nothing else.”

  He patted her back and waited. “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”’

  He sat on the bed and pulled her between his knees. “I don’t much like spanking you. There are more pleasant things to do with your cute behind. But you have to learn, Megan. I don’t give orders without reason. I’ll explain if you don’t understand, but you must do as I say.” He took a deep breath before repeating, “Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Her voice was weak from tears already shed.

  Mike pulled gently on her arm and she tipped over his leg. He lifted her torso and placed it on the bed before securing her legs between his long, muscular ones. His gaze burned her bottom like a brand. She held her breath and waited.

  His hand lifted and came down on her bottom with a slap that echoed around the room. She lifted her upper body from the bed and squirmed, but Michael held her tight, secure. There would be no wiggling away, no chance to break free. “Oh Michael. Michael. Stop. It hurts.”

  “I know.” His tense voice and a barrage of spanks arrived simultaneously. She tried to kick and jerk herself free, but there would be no reprieve until Michael granted it. His hand continued. Right, left, left, down to her thighs, under the swell of her bottom, right, right, left. He set no consistent pattern or speed. She threw her hand back to shield her poor bottom, but Michael simply held it at the small of her back.

  His message seeped into her distressed brain. She must accept his authority. Submit.

  Megan collapsed. The spanking would end when Michael decided to end it.

  The sound of hand on flesh ended well before Megan realized the spanking had stopped. She relaxed into the soothing rub of his hand.

  “This is the second time this week I’ve had to spank you, Megan.” Michael’s voice sounded weary and sad. “Both times for willful disobedience: clearly choosing to ignore instructions meant to keep you from harm.” His hand continued rubbing circles of relief into her scorched flesh. “Last time you got five with the brush. This time it’s ten. Keep that in mind, darlin’. I mean to keep you safe.”

  “No, no, Michael. Don’t, please.”

  “Hush.” He brought the brush down and left it on her skin, heavy with meaning.

  She twisted and screeched, rediscovering she was well and truly trapped.

  He had been quick with the brush last time. Now he waited between each stroke and counted them in a calm, steely voice. “Nine.” She heard the numbers through her confusion of pain. “Ten.”

  The brush dropped to the floor, and Michal scooped her into his arms. “It’s over now. It’s over.” He patted her back and rubbed his hand up and down her thighs. Pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket, he mopped her tear ravaged face. He held her close until her breathing slowed, and her body relaxed.

  “I’m putting you to bed now. I need to check on the brothers in the barn and my injured hands in the bunkhouse. You sleep. I’ll be back.”

  Megan’s bleary eyes came half open as Michael left the room. She tried to call out, but exhaustion swept over her in paralyzing waves. Her voice was a whimper. “I love you, Michael.” The door closed with a click.

  Megan lay on her stomach, bottom burning, and floated into uneasy sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Megan

  Megan’s foot pumped up and down on the treadle, and the needle hummed its way through the green flowered fabric. Ma always said green was the color for redheads, and ma had always been right. She sighed. A sudden well of missing her ma rose in her throat in a painful lump. She had a sudden longing to tell all and receive the blessing of a confidence shared.

  In her heart, Megan knew what Ma’s advice would be. Tell your husband the truth. Share the burden. Face it together.

  She held the dress up for inspection. It needed buttons and a bit of lace at the collar, but it was beautiful, and she loved it. Michael’s voice floated through her window. She folded the dress, laid it on her work table, and removed the pillow from her sewing chair. Michael said no pillow at dinner, and she felt a faint guilt to use one while she sewed.

  She looked out the window and watched her handsome husband cross the yard.

  Her bottom was still sore from the spanking three days ago and oval bruises from the hairbrush decorated her skin in shades of purple and green.

  His boots clomped up the stairs. “Megan. Where are you?”

  “I’m here,” she called, “in the sewing room.”

  His broad shoulders filled the door before he emerged into the room. “What are you making?”

  “A dress for the dance tomorrow. I hope you’ll like it.” Her skin blushed a light pink.

  “If you’re in it, I’ll love it.” He took her in his arms and lowered his lips to hers. He brushed her lips gently, encouraging her to let him in. Megan groaned and opened her mouth to his tongue and his heat. One arm encircled her waist and pulled her close to his body while his other hand roamed over her back and down her buttocks. His kiss sent a lightning strike between her thighs. He paused and gave a light pat. “How is your bottom, darlin’?”

  “Oh, Michael, what a question.” Embarrassment deepened her pink to rosy red.

  “You’re my wife. It’s my right to worry about your bottom.”

  Her chin lifted.

  He laughed and gave her buttock a squeeze. “Keep your chin down, darlin’. I’ll check your bottom tonight.” Her shoulders twisted in his arms, and she gave an unhappy groan. “Hush, now. I want to be sure I wasn’t too rough. I’ve been a might worried.”

  He took her hand and pulled her from the room. “Lupe is putting supper on the table. She sent me to fetch you.”

  “Oh, I was carried away with my dress. I should have helped her.” Megan scooted down the stairs. Her shoes tip-tapped a quick rhythm on the wood. “I’m sorry, Lupe. I lost track of time,” she said, as she dashed into the kitchen, picked up a serving dish and carried it to the table.

  “If I needed your help, I would have called you down. I wanted you to finish your dress, and thank you for the skirt you made for me. We’ll be the belles of the ball.” She gave a throaty laugh.

  Steak, baked potato, carrots fresh from the garden—supper was a feast. Lupe served apple pie for dessert. Megan rose from the table her hands clutched across her stomach. “I am too full.”

  “You only ate half of what was on your plate, darlin’. I’m aimin
g to fatten you up.”

  Michael pinched her upper arm between his fingers. “Just what I thought. Not enough meat on these bones. Come sit on the porch.” His eyes sparkled invitation.

  “I will. Let me help Lupe clean up first.” Taking a pile of dishes, she left her husband gazing wistfully at her departing derriere.

  Dishes done, Lupe and Megan joined their men on the porch and slipped in close.

  “The brothers are doing fine, jefe,” Manuel said. “I wasn’t sure it would work, but the men understand. Those boys made a big mistake, but they are young and a little stupid.” He reached into his pocket for his tobacco. “They’re nice youngsters. It’s like having a house full of big puppies.” He struck a match on his thigh and held it to the bowl of his pipe. “The hands remember those days. They are willing to give them a second chance.”

  “That’s mighty nice considering they shot two of them, but I was hoping they’d see it that way.” Michael rubbed Megan’s back. “Who’s going into town for the dance tomorrow besides the four of us?”

  “Joe volunteered to stay and keep an eye on the ranch. He can’t dance on an injured leg anyway. I think Moses might stay, too. His arm is plenty sore,” Manuel told them.

  “That’s good. I’d like to have two men here. I don’t anticipate any trouble, but we can’t leave the ranch unattended.” His hands dropped to her lower back and inched toward her behind. “Let’s turn in, darlin’.”

  Megan took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. They climbed the stairs arm-in-arm. She clung to his side. He was a rock of a man. He was her rock.

  Once in their room, Michael lit a lantern. The yellow glow threw a wide circle of light, leaving the rest of the room in wavy shadows.

  “Do we need a lantern, Michael? Usually a candle will do.” Her pink bow of a mouth took a slight downturn.

  “I told you I wanted a look at your bottom.” He lifted his wide shoulders in a shrug. “Did you forget?”

  “No, but I thought you were teasing. My bottom is fine.” Megan turned away from her big husband and unbuttoned her dress.

  “I don’t tease. Get your nightgown on and come here.” He lowered his body to the bed.

  “Michael.” Her chin rose to fighting levels.

  “Nope. Don’t Michael me. Put your chin down and do as you’re told.” His eyes sparkled. “Don’t make me spank that little bottom again. I don’t want to, but I will.”

  Under her husband’s watchful eye, Megan disrobed, letting her nightgown float over her head and touch the ground.

  She inched towards the bed. “No spanking.” It was question and statement in one.

  “No spanking. Pull your nightgown up and lie over my legs, darlin’.” He tipped her over his lap and rubbed his hand over her colorful flesh. “That brush leaves its mark.” He gave a low whistle. His hand rubbed and patted, patted and rubbed, drifting down her thighs and over her bottom. “Tell you what. Tomorrow when we take the buggy to town, you may sit on a pillow.” He hastened to add, “Don’t get spoiled, girl. It’s just this one time.” He parted her thighs and his fingers found moist heat. He lifted her from his lap and stood her between his knees. “How would you like to go for a ride?”

  “A ride? Where would we go in the dark?” Her pale blue eyes clouded in confusion. Her body throbbed with desire not fulfilled.

  Michael had shed his clothes and lay on the bed. “Come up here.”

  Megan climbed onto the bed and admired her husband’s body. Slabs of muscle defined his chest and stomach. His legs, used to hours in the saddle, were large and lean at the same time. He let her look her fill.

  “Arms up.” He lifted the gown over her head and tossed it to the floor.

  She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Stop that.” He pushed her arms away. “In our bedroom, we can do what we like. Now, what I’d like is for you to straddle me.” Michael helped her over before lifting her and settling her on his manhood. He lay still. She gasped.

  “Oh, oh, Michael,” she whispered and sighed.

  “Rock, Megan. Ride me.” He took her hips and pulled her forward while he impaled her from below. Megan put her hands on his chest and gave a roll of her own.

  “That’s it, baby. That’s my fast learner.” He groaned.

  She leaned back and rested her hands on his thighs before taking control of the ride. Her head thrown back, she took them on a wild journey. They ended up where they started, still in bed, still in each other’s arms, still in love. A long, strong arm pulled Megan into a possessive cuddle and they slept entwined.

  A streak of sunlight laid a band of heat across her eyes. Megan’s hand patted the other side of the bed only to feel empty space. Michael was up and probably finished with half a day’s work. She sighed. It was sweet of him to let her sleep, but she had work of her own.

  Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, stretched, and bent to pick up her discarded clothes. Memories of last night rushed into her head. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, just the thought of his hands on her body sent damp heat pulsing between her thighs.

  She finished dressing and pulled her riot of hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. The dance was tonight. She needed to finish her dress, but first she’d check to see if Lupe needed help.

  “Lupe.” Megan’s feet tapped down the stairs. “Lupe, I’m sorry. I overslept.” She rushed to the kitchen.

  Lupe laughed. “Jefe said to let you sleep.” A wink of female understanding sent a blush to Megan’s cheeks. “Oh, don’t fuss, Megan. We’re all so happy for Mike. He’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” She paused. “Well, that’s why I posted the ad for a bride, after all, but it’s worked out better than I dreamed it could.”

  “Do you need help?” Megan asked.

  “No, I’m fine. I left some breakfast to warm. I know you have a little work to do on your dress.” Lupe waved in the direction of the large black stovetop.

  Megan used a towel guard for her hand as she fetched her breakfast and carried it to the table. “Hmm. Thank you.” A few bites of egg, a slice of a bacon and half a muffin later, Megan rose from the table and carried her dish to the sink. “Shall I give the rest to Caesar?” The large dog lay on the porch, head resting between his paws. Eyes focused on the yard.

  “No, jefe left him to guard. He’s busy.” She observed the large dog for a moment. “He used to take him to the range, but since the brothers waltzed in like they owned the place, he leaves him to guard the house.”

  “I still feel a little guilty, but I’m glad I didn’t shoot one of them. Michael was disappointed in me. I’m supposed to have my gun with me at all times.” Absently, she reached back and rubbed her still bruised bottom.

  Lupe laughed. “I was too, and I suspect we both paid the price.” Lupe looked at the breakfast left on Megan’s plate. “Jefe wants you to eat more. He won’t be happy you left more than you ate.”

  “I’m excited for tonight, and I need to finish my dress.” Megan headed for the stairs. “Please don’t tell him.” Her pale eyes pleaded with Lupe to keep her secret.

  “If he doesn’t ask, I won’t say anything. But, I won’t lie.” She snorted. “Blarney lands a lady in hot water, Megan, mighty hot water.” They shared a look of painful understanding.

  As she sewed the buttons to the front of her new dress, Megan contemplated the lie, the blarney, she had not shared with her husband. She needed to tell Michael about the night she fled her uncle’s house. Surely, he would understand. Her tears threatened to tumble, but she blinked them back. He would understand, she was sure of it. He would be angry that she left blarney between them. He would brook no blarney. Tomorrow. She would tell him tomorrow. No sense in spoiling the dance.

  The familiar sound of her husband’s boots on the stairs catapulted her back to the present. “Megan,” he called.

  “In here, Michael.” She draped her dress over the chair.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  “I am, but
no peeking.” She shielded her dress from his view.

  “Lupe said to tell you dinner is ready.” He whisked her into his arms. “And the Waynes sent a message. We are to be at their house at four for supper at five, and then on to the dance.” He planted vigorous kisses on her cheeks, her eyebrows, her neck. “We need to leave here at three. I won’t go back out after we eat. I aim to take a bath and get a fresh shave. I want to look good enough to deserve that new dress and the angel wearing it.” He patted her bottom and leaned her over his arm until he had complete access to her throat.

  Megan moaned at the pleasure of his arms. He lifted her upright. “Come on. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  A lunch of cold sandwiches and salads awaited them, and Michael, true to his word, appeared to be starving. He finally paused for breath. “Manuel, give the men the afternoon off. They must want to clean up for the dance.”

  “They will be happy, jefe.” Manuel nodded at his boss. “Thank you.”

  “Tell one of the brothers to have my wagon ready to go at three. Megan and I are having supper with the Waynes before the dance.” He rose from the table. “Be ready at three, darlin’.” He dropped a lazy wink in his wife’s direction. “I’m going to clean up.” Megan watched him cross the yard to where his horse stood waiting. He swung into the saddle in one easy motion and disappeared around the barn.

  “Where’s he going?” Megan’s face showed her confusion.

  “To the river. To clean up,” Manuel explained. “He wouldn’t go to the trouble of heating water in the summer. The river water will feel good on a hot day. But if you want hot water, we’ll heat it on the stove.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll bring a few buckets from the pump for a bath. You’re right. Cool water will be a wonder.” Megan looked from one friend to the other.

  “I’ll have some of the men fill the tub for you. Jefe wouldn’t want you hauling water across the yard when we have a bunk house full of men to do it.” Manuel rose from the table. He looked at his wife. “Make an early supper. We’ll leave for the dance at five. The men will fill a tub for you, too, mi corazon.”