Bringing Trouble Home (Lost and Found in Thorndale Book 1)

by Amelia Smarts

He turned toward the door. “Don’t expect me to disagree with that,” Heath replied tersely.

  “Heath,” Willow said, standing from the bed. “Please don’t leave. I— I couldn’t bear it if you left now.”

  “You won’t like it if I stay. You want me to comfort you, but I only want to punish you.”

  “I deserve punishment,” she said, rushing to him and throwing herself against his chest, which felt as hard and immoveable as a brick wall. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, “Punish me severely, Heath. Only please, please forgive me. Tell me you still love me.”

  “I still love you, and I will forgive you in time,” he said, extricating her arms from around him and gently shoving her back. “Go to bed. We’ll talk more later.”

  “No!” she cried, reaching out to cling to his shirt. “I can tell I’ve hurt you, and I want to make up for it.”

  He reached up and wrapped the hair above her nape into his fist. He pulled her head back with a strong tug and glared at her. “First you want me to leave, and now you want me to stay. I’m not inclined to put much stock in what you want today.

  “Please,” she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked into his flashing eyes. “Let me prove I’ll never doubt you again. Let me do something, anything. Let me…” An idea came to her. “Let me kiss you, here.” She cupped his manhood.

  His eyebrows lifted, and he let out a cough. “What?”

  She licked her lips and tried to look down, but his grip on her hair was too firm. “You tasted me. I want to taste you.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled hard. When he looked at her again, she could see that the anger had drained from his face and his eyes were glinting with lust.

  He tugged on her hair, pushing her down. “On your knees then, Trouble,” he growled.

  She dropped to the rug, putting her at eye level with the bulge in his trousers. He unbuttoned, freeing his cock. Half-hard, it already looked thick and long. A dot of his essence appeared at the head.

  Her mouth watered, thinking about gliding her tongue along his length. She was eager to show him how sorry she was. She wanted nothing more to cause him pleasure after she’d so badly hurt him, so she reached up to stroke him.

  “Hands behind your back,” he barked, causing her arms to freeze mid-air.

  His voice was similar in tone to when he’d taken her over his knee in the barn and spanked her. It wasn’t angry, but it was stern, and it carried her to that submissive state of mind where she was fully accepting of whatever he had in store for her.

  She clasped her hands behind her and stared down at the ground, waiting for further instructions. From the corner of her eye, she could see him take himself into his hand.

  “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

  She obeyed. The sudden darkness set her on edge. When he slapped his cock across her cheek, the sting caused her eyes to fly open, but she quickly shut them again. She welcomed the humiliation. It was like a salve to her ache over having doubted him.

  He seemed to understand. He slapped her other cheek with his cock. “Is this what you want, darlin’?”

  Her eyes still closed, she said, “Yes, Heath.”

  He ran his thumb across her eyelid, down her cheek, and over her lips, pausing after folding her bottom lip down. The touch was tender, and Willow could feel forgiveness in it. She had hurt him, but he knew her and understood why she had felt so untrusting.

  “I want to fuck this pretty mouth of yours,” he said, sliding his thumb across the damp underside of her lower lip. “You won’t be able to say any more nonsense to me if your mouth is full of cock.”

  She whimpered, both shocked and aroused by his words. It still surprised her to hear Heath using such rough language, when his usual mode was gentlemanly and polite.

  “Look at me,” he said, moving his hand to cup her chin.

  She opened her eyes and met his. There was love and forgiveness in his gaze. Nothing was more wonderful than being understood and loved despite her flaws.

  “This is what I meant about you being surprising,” he said. “Asking to suck my cock like a naughty little vixen. I love this about you. I love everything about you.”

  “I know. I’ll never doubt it again, Heath.”

  “I hope not.” He released her chin and guided his cock to her lips. Tentatively, she flicked her tongue across the head, tasting him for the first time.

  “May I… touch you?” she asked.

  He nodded. Now fully hard, his cock looked angry, with engorged purple veins. She unclasped her hands from around her back and reached out to the base, wrapping her fingers around his heat and hardness, causing him to emit a groan. His erection pulsed in her hand.

  She touched every bit of him with her fingers, exploring the instrument of pleasure with interest and care. The skin over the iron hardness was surprisingly soft. When she skimmed her thumb over the head, his entire cock flexed and he sucked in a breath.

  Holding his cock in her hands, she opened her mouth and guided her lips around him, swirling her tongue as she did, marveling over the taste of sex. She felt so wicked, accepting his manhood into her mouth. His scent brought memories of the intimacies they’d shared that Sunday afternoon in the meadow.

  She removed her hands from around his cock so that she could take more of him into her mouth. She braced herself by holding on to him around the back of his knees, feeling the bristled hair around his muscled thighs.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, lacing his fingers through her hair. He pulled her toward him and held her in place.

  For one panicked moment she couldn’t breathe. The tip of his cock touched the back of her throat, and she gagged. He let up the pressure on her head and she pulled back enough to stop the feeling of choking. Then she leaned in again carefully, accepting the discomfort of her throat being tickled.

  Her effort didn’t escape his notice. “My good girl,” he said, petting her hair. “You want to please me, don’t you?”

  She attempted to say yes with a mouth full of cock, but it came out sounding like “othsh”. It was best to demonstrate, so she slid her lips along his manhood, back and forth, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She wanted nothing more than to please him for the rest of her life, and she wanted to show him in every way she could. When she vibrated her tongue along the ridge under the head, his knees buckled briefly and his hold on her hair tightened. He growled an oath.

  For the first time since coming to work for Heath, she felt a strange new power. All along, she had felt at his mercy. In every way, he was her better. In age, he was older. In strength, he was more powerful. In wealth, he was richer. But in that moment, on her knees with his cock in her mouth, she realized that in love, none of that mattered. They were two people on fair footing, each with equal ability to please and hurt the other.

  Heath’s knees began to tremble, and she felt the muscles of his thighs flex. She sped up her movements, knowing he was on the cusp, and continued to suck and lick, trying with everything in her to bring him to that place of ultimate pleasure. Her saliva gathered around the corners of her mouth, and his short grunts of pleasure caused primal heat to flush her body and fill her mind.

  While continuing to suck, she glanced up at him. His eyes met hers and fixed her with a stare of both lust and adoration. He belonged to her, and she to him.

  His hips thrust forward, and with a sharp exhale he pulled her from his cock, replacing her mouth with his hand. “Close your eyes, baby,” he grunted.

  The moment after she obeyed, his hot seed spurt across her forehead and cheeks. She kept her eyes closed as the sensation of the thick essence coating her face dripped down into the corners of her mouth. She slid her tongue out and lapped at the wetness, tasting the result of his pleasure.

  She remained on her knees with her eyes closed, basking in the knowledge that she was a woman who could provide the man she loved with gratification. In that humble pose, she felt like the mos
t beautiful, powerful woman in the world.

  She could hear Heath pulling on his trousers and buckling his belt. Shortly after, a damp cloth pressed against her cheek. With thorough strokes, Heath washed her face. He took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close to his chest.

  “You forgive me?” she murmured.

  “I told you I would.”

  “But I sped up the process a little, didn’t I?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, you might have.”

  She looked up at him. “I won’t doubt you again, Heath.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, darlin’.” He ran his hand over her hair. “You spent some time on your knees. Now it’s my turn.”

  Surprised, she said, “No, Heath, I don’t need the pleasure returned. I wanted to—”

  “Hush,” he said, holding a finger over her lips. “You have only one thing on your mind, don’t you?” He laughed again as he lowered himself to one knee.

  It dawned on her then what he intended to do. She gasped and covered her mouth as he squeezed her other hand.

  “I worried that I was making a big mistake by bringing you home,” Heath said, “but it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

  “Oh, Heath,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “I was going to propose later in the week, but I want to make sure you have no more doubt of my intentions, even for a minute. Say you’ll marry me, Willow McAllister.”

  “I will. Of course I will!”

  He stood and gathered her face in his hands. He kissed her deeply, giving and drawing from the abundance of love they had for each other. When their lips unlocked, he said, “I consider myself lucky that you’ve given me your trust. I know you don’t give it to many people.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s true.”

  “And now that you’ve agreed to marry me, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

  “I’m the lucky one, Heath.”

  He winked at her. “Don’t forget it, Trouble.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Heath sat in his armchair with Bitty on his lap. Jack lay sprawled on the sofa, one foot over the arm of the couch, the other one touching the floor. Willow sat in the chair opposite Heath. She had placed her right hand over her left, effectively hiding the band on her left ring finger until they gave the news to the children.

  Heath marveled over how different this meeting was compared to the first family meeting with Willow. He no longer had the anxiety over how she and the children would get along. Now she was every bit a part of the family.

  Bitty tapped him on the head. “Your hair’s sticking up, Pa.”

  “Hey!” he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “Don’t hit my top-notcher.”

  Bitty grinned. “That’s not a top-notcher. That’s your head.”

  Heath frowned at her and touched his head. “This is my top-notcher.” He touched his nose. “This is my smell sniffer.” He touched his mustache. “And this is my soup strainer.”

  Bitty dissolved into giggles and shook her head. “No! That’s your nose and mustache. I know what they’re called!”

  Heath shook his head, in mock dismay. “I don’t know what they’re teaching you in that school.”

  Still giggling, Bitty pointed at his mouth. “What’s that, then?”

  “That’s my food grinder, of course.”

  Jack and Willow grinned at them, as Bitty continued to laugh. “And what’s this?” she asked, pointing at his elbow.

  Heath jabbed her in the ribs. “That’s my poker.”

  Willow cleared her throat. “That’s not the body part I would call your poker.”

  Knowing her reference, Heath choked back a laugh. The children laughed as well, though he was certain they didn’t understand the joke.

  “What’s his poker?” Bitty asked.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Jack chimed in.

  Heath raised an eyebrow at Willow, wondering how she would explain herself to the children.

  “Hmm,” she said. Leaning over, she poked Bitty in the tummy. “His finger, of course. It’s a much better poker than an elbow.”

  “She’s right,” Jack said, satisfied in her answer. “Hey, you’re wearing jewelry, Miss Willow. You never wear jewelry.”

  Willow pulled back her hand quickly and looked as though she would try to hide her hand again. Instead, she held it out for the children to see. “Do you like my new ring?”

  “Sure,” Jack said.

  Bitty climbed down from Heath’s lap and leaned toward Willow to take a closer look. “It’s shiny.”

  “That’s a wedding band,” Heath said. “Miss Willow and I are getting married.”

  Bitty gasped and then clapped her hands. “You’re going to live here always, Miss Willow?”

  Willow smiled serenely. Heath had noticed how much calmer her smiles were since he’d proposed. In general, she was more relaxed, was sitting up straighter, and her old nervous habit of chewing tobacco had been abandoned completely.

  Willow pulled Bitty into a hug. “I’ll stay forever, as long as you and Jack want me to.”

  Bitty squeezed her tight. “Yes, please!”

  “Jack, what do you say?” Heath asked. “You like the idea of me and Willow getting hitched?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. He stood and held out his hand. “Congratulations, Pa.”

  Heath shook it, then pulled him into a bear hug. “Thank you, son.”

  Though Heath knew his children loved Willow and would be glad that they were marrying, it was still a relief to give them the news and hear their happiness spoken out loud. He drew a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the pine logs crackling in the fire. It smelled like home, like love and comfort, and he silently thanked the heavens he’d brought Willow to the ranch in spite of his initial reservations.

  Willow held out her hand to Jack. “I have to say congratulations to you too, Jack.”

  Confused, he wrinkled his brow, but he took her proffered hand. “What for?”

  “For getting your room back, of course,” Willow said. “I’ll be moving into your pa’s room as soon as we’re married.”

  Jack’s face split into a bigger smile. “That’s good news.”

  “Agreed,” Heath said. “And the sooner, the better.”

  ***

  Later that week, Willow donned one of her new dresses. It was a blue gingham gown stitched together with navy thread. Pearl buttons dotted the back along her spine. She fashioned her hair into an elaborate braided bun and tied it off with ribbons that matched the pearls.

  Heath met her by the buggy and helped her to the seat. “Do me a favor while you’re in town, Trouble. Pick up the Sunday paper for me.”

  Willow gathered the reins into her hands. It was a cool autumn morning, and she was in jovial spirits. The trips to town were proving a great break from the daily labor of housework, and she especially looked forward to this visit. “Sure, Heath. Anything else you want while I’m there?”

  “Only that you don’t take too much satisfaction in ordering a wedding dress from Victoria Davis.”

  “I can’t promise you that,” Willow said. “I must admit there are few tasks I’ve been more excited about.”

  He shook his head and grumbled, “I hope you’re as excited to marry me as you are to rub it in Victoria’s face.”

  “Marrying you is a close second, darling, don’t worry.”

  Heath laughed, and Willow joined in with him. Then she clucked to the horse and set out. She looked back when she was a ways down the path.

  Heath stood in the distance by the cabin, still watching her retreat. He lifted his hand, and she waved back, happiness filling her heart. She had the urge to shout from the rooftops. She wanted every person in town who had ever looked down on her to know that the cream of Thorndale’s crop loved her.

  But there would be no such grand announcement. Heath had suggested they have a simple ceremony at the
chapel in a few weeks’ time. Jack and Bitty would be in attendance, and perhaps the marshal and his family. Willow didn’t tell Heath she would prefer a large wedding with as many people there as could fit inside the church. She knew it was vanity to wish such a thing, so she dismissed it from her mind. Plus, she reckoned that telling Victoria she was engaged to Heath would be satisfaction enough.

  When she arrived at the seamstress’s shop, she could barely measure her steps, having the ridiculous impulse to skip through the door and sing the news. The pleasant scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted her as she walked in.

  Victoria looked up from where she was hemming a pair of wool trousers by the window. She set them aside and stood. Addressing Willow coolly without a trace of even faux friendliness, she said, “What can I do for you?”

  Willow tilted her head and examined Victoria’s face. Her cheeks were slowly turning a bright crimson, as though she already knew what Willow was going to announce. But how could she? Willow hadn’t been to town since Heath proposed to her, and Heath would have mentioned to Willow if he’d shared the news with Victoria.

  “I’m here to request that you sew me a wedding dress,” Willow said, reciting the words she’d practiced and relished a hundred times in anticipation of this moment. “Heath and I are getting married.”

  Victoria didn’t look surprised. “Fine. Come with me.”

  Confused and a bit let down by the seamstress’s bland reaction, Willow followed her to the back of the shop. A newspaper and a catalog were on the counter, along with various bits of fabric and a pot of coffee Victoria likely offered to other people who stopped by. To Willow, Victoria shoved the catalog. “Pick out the design you want and I’ll sew it for you.”

  Willow thumbed through the pages advertising wedding dresses designed in New York. She found it curious that the catalog was out on the counter. It added to what Willow sensed—that Victoria had known Willow was coming and had guessed what she would request.

  Soon Willow became engrossed in her task. It didn’t take long to find a dress she liked. Made of satin and silk, it was a sheath design that would skim her body and fall straight to the floor below her hips. It looked comfortable, and it seemed like it would require less fabric than some of the other designs.