by Megan McCoy
Lyle was seated at the couch with the bowl in his hands, but he had not started eating yet, he had been staring into the fire. When she spoke, he glanced at her, but remained silent.
Not having anything else to say, she went into the kitchen. Once there, she lay her items over the back of a chair and set the soap on the table. She went to the stove and took a moment to fill water and coffee grounds into the coffee pot then set it on the eye. She thought it would be nice to offer Lyle some coffee before he went out into the cold night. She dragged the kettle to the second eye to make herself a cup of tea, hoping it would soothe her frayed nerves, both from what had happened to her tonight and Lyle Joseph’s presence.
When she faced the tub, she took a few deep breaths first before she reached for the shawl and untied it. When she saw the rip, she started to feel nauseous and shaky, her skin was crawling as she remembered their hands on her. She began to strip the items off her body as fast as she could, not wanting them touching her any longer. At twenty-two, she had never been courted, but now her mind was filled with the memory of the two men’s violent mauling, pawing her everywhere. Each piece seemed to hold the horrible scent of the men and she had to shed it. Soon, dress, shift, and ruined bloomers that were practically shreds and had only remained in place because of the cloth ribbons tied at her waist, were in a pile at her feet. She reached for the soap, then got into the water. She sat with her back to the opening of the kitchen and told herself not to think of the man in the other room as she began to scrub firmly at her skin.
Her skin would squeaky clean by the time she got out.
Chapter 4
Lyle had eaten the delicious stew and fluffy roll as slowly as he possibly could. It wasn’t because it was so good and he wanted to savor each bite, he did, but it was because he needed something to occupy himself so that his mind was not conjuring up the images of Rachel’s bare body in the bath. He could hear the splash of the water and thought about how her wet body would glisten in the lamp light. He told himself he was a pathetic cad to think of her that way, after all she had been through that night. He’d never disrespect her by going into the kitchen and peering in on her, so he just left the dishes on the table. However, the pictures in his mind could not be stopped. He thought about if she were his, his wife, he’d place her before the fire and dry her off, slowly. Not with the towel, but his mouth, sipping and licking every droplet.
Shit. Those thoughts weren’t doing anything to cool his blood and reduce his erection. The beast he was, he’d been semi-erect since he’d pulled her up before him on Domino. The only thing that had kept his dick from being full mast was the cold wind blowing over his face and down the collar of his coat. Now, he could smell the scent of some flower he couldn’t name and coffee. The rich brew should have saturated the house and taken away the floral scent, but his entire body was so tuned to Rachel, that he could still distinguish her scent through anything.
“You’re a horny ass, Lyle Joseph,” he groaned, then shot to his feet. He walked to the fireplace and set his hands against the mantel as he stared down into the flames. He attempted to decipher the colors in the fire to focus on something other than the naked nymph in the other room.
“Is everything all right?”
Concentrating so hard on not thinking about her had worked for a moment, since he hadn’t heard her enter. Turning to face her, he saw her standing at the end of the couch, with a steaming cup in her hands.
“I brought you coffee. I figured it would finish warming you up.” She gave him a tentative smile.
He crossed the distance, unable to keep away from her. He slipped his hand under the mug to keep from touching her. Once it was balanced on the center of his palm, he nodded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He took steps backward to create distance between them again; the sight of her was doing things to him. Made him want what he couldn’t have, not now. Lifting the coffee, he took a deep drink, it was hot, but not so blazing that he scalded his tongue. A testament to Rachel’s job, only an exceptional housekeeper and cook would serve people hot beverages at the correct temperature. A person could lose their jobs for scalding an employer. The upkeep even of this small home and the wonderful stew she’d served him, completed the declaration of her skills.
“The stew was some of the best I’ve ever had.” He took another drink and felt the heat fill his mouth, then continued down his throat and compete with the heat already in his gut for Rachel.
“I’m glad you liked it.” She shrugged, her shoulder sort of making a half circle as she swiped her hair over one shoulder.
She was backlit by the oil lamp still in the kitchen somewhere, running her fingers through her wet, dark hair trying to work out the tangles. Such hair. He’d never seen her hair loose. When she was younger and he’d first seen her, it had been in a thick braid over one of her shoulders. Since then, it had always been up, in a bun at the back of her head. Now, he saw how lovely it was, not too long beyond her shoulders, but, wet now, it was full of big waves. He itched to run his fingers through it the way she was doing now. His gaze moved lower. The fresh dress she wore now was simple, modest, a faded yellow that clung to the slight curves of her body caused by her damp hair. His eyes caressed her from her head to her bare toes that peeked out below the hem. He’d taken note of the swell of her small breast that pushed against the material.
Don’t think about the size or pear shape of her breasts. Don’t wonder what her nipples making impressions in the fabric were like. Color. Size. Don’t— Shit. It was too late; his mind still toyed with all those things and more.
She’d asked him if everything was all right. He could have easily told her that no, everything was not fine. He was lusting after a woman who’d had a horrible night.
He needed to get going. Her bath was complete, he should simply say night, then head to the door for his things and ride his horse out of here before he found himself in anymore trouble then he was already in. He didn’t move.
It was something in her face as she drew nearer to him and the fire. He could see it was washed clean, there was a pinkish tone to the normally creamy skin of her face and neck. In the firelight, as her hands still moved through her hair, more of a nervous action, he noticed, than working at anything, as they continued to sift through the same spot, her hands were reddened too. He wondered how hard she’d scrubbed at her skin in the bath.
“How are you, Rachel?”
When she glanced up at him, now a couple feet away as she stood by the warmth of the fire, she saw him looking from her face to her hands. They stilled, then she lowered them to her side.
“I’m fine.” She brought up a shoulder, then lowered it. Her hands flexed into small fists she attempted to hide in the folds of the dress’ skirt.
“Don’t lie to me, Rachel.” He shifted his body, so he was facing her straight on as he held her gaze.
For a moment they stood there, allowing him to stare into her beautiful hazel eyes and watch the light of the fire dance along the golden flecks in them. They seemed to be filled more with questions and doubts, than the fear of before. He was glad the fear was gone. He didn’t like knowing that those men’s actions could have locked her into a box that made her afraid of her own shadow. Rachel had always been a fighter, it had been evident in the way she’d been struggling against her attackers, never giving up. He may have shot the one called Stimmy, but she had laid Mint low.
She glanced away as she folded her arms over her middle. She was agitated about something. “You have been kind enough tonight. I don’t need to burden you with the silly concerns of a woman.”
“I wouldn’t have asked, if I didn’t want to know, darlin’.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t smile. She stood silent. As the seconds passed, he thought she wouldn’t say anything. The wind howled outside and shook the windowpane in the front room.
She looked toward the window and shivered, even though she c
ould not have possibly been cold so close to the fire.
“What’s on your mind, Rachel? Tell me.” He’d made his voice low, commanding her to share her inner turmoil.
“I figure something’s wrong with me.”
He frowned as he watched her run a hand through her hair from the scalp this time as she turned away. They were both boxed in by the rocker and chair. She created distance between them as she faced the wall displaying a painting of the Tucker family, that he was sure Sophia Reynolds had most likely created. Everyone in Grover knew she was an accomplished artist.
“What makes you believe something so fool-hearted as that?” he growled. There was nothing wrong with the sweet, pretty woman.
She let out a dry laugh as she shook her head, still giving him her back. “You probably don’t know this, but I’ve never been kissed. Never even been taken out on a ride on Sunday or asked to dance more than just a perfunctory request at a barn dance because an additional partner was needed for a Virginia Reel.” There was the dry laugh again.
A part of him was glad that no man had ever kissed her, he’d always wanted every kiss to be his. He also knew that he’d been the man to ask her to dance at last year’s Harvest Dance. It hadn’t been out of a sense of duty, but because she had looked so beautiful in her pale dress. He couldn’t keep himself away, when he should have. The reel had been the most decent thing he could do with her and not pull her into his arms and give her one of those kisses she said she’d never had. After the energetic line dance, he’d had to leave, because his heart had been pounding wildly in his chest and he’d had to fight his urge to declare for her right then and there. However, he hadn’t been ready. He had nowhere to take a new bride, when he was still crammed in a bunkhouse with other farmhands, and no clue of what direction his job was going. Yes, there’d been murmurs, even then, about what Rand was going to do, but nothing guaranteed.
“There’s plenty of reason why those things haven’t happened for you. It don’t mean somethin’s wrong with you.” He stepped closer to her, then took hold of her shoulders and turned her around.
It shocked him to see there were tears streaming down her face.
In his stunned silence, she stepped away again; not turning her back, but she began to rant. “Everything is wrong with my life. Don’t you see?” She began to pace as she went on. “I know I’m no great beauty, but I’m twenty-two already and no man in Grover has even cast a single glance in my direction. Now, the only interest I’ve had in my life, is two men who believed it was their right to take things from me.” Her laugh was more of a cackle this time, as she shoved her hands through her hair that had begun to dry in a wild halo around her head that made her appear slightly deranged in the two warring lights. “That’s probably the closest to affection I’ll ever experience.”
He didn’t think, he just reacted, as he reached out and took hold of her. Lyle didn’t consider whether it was right or wrong, his place or not, he just knew he had to get her under control. It was apparent that the events of the evening had finally caught up to her and was warping her mind into farfetched beliefs that weren’t true. He could have perhaps, if he were a gentleman, taken her by the shoulders, sat her down beside him on the couch and tried to reason with her. However, he was a country boy, a man raised to work hard from dawn to dusk, and that didn’t leave much time for teachin’ gentilities of ways, no sir. He’d learned to be a man of quick action, one had to be when dealing with livestock that could weigh at least a thousand pounds, you had to live by your gut. In a delay, someone could get trampled on or killed.
Moving on pure instinct and adrenaline of what the situation called for and what Rachel needed, he wrapped his fingers around her slim arm and pulled her with him as he took the steps to the chair he’d sat in earlier.
“Lyle?” she murmured, as she sniffed away the tears she still shed, as evident in her clogged nose.
No more Mr. Joseph; he figured a part of her was understanding he meant business. Once he was at the seat, he wasted no time sitting and dragging her across his lap in one motion.
“Lyle?” her voice rose. “What… what are you doing?”
She tried to rise, but he put a hand at the small of her back and held her in place. “Knockin’ those crazy thoughts out of your head.”
“What? How?” She tried to turn to see his face, but he kept her in the position he needed her. “This is insane. Let me up.”
“No. Only a child goes about spouting foolishness, and there is only one way to deal with a child that is acting beside themselves. A good hide tanning.”
She started to squirm with more vigor at his words, as she attempted to cover up her backside. “Wait. I’m not a child.”
“It’s the way you’re acting. Now I understand you have had a damn hell of a night, but you showed more gumption and sense out in the snow slamming a blade into an asshole’s thigh than you’ve done in here was me. So, since you no longer seem to be able to demonstrate your own self-control, I’ll have to do it for you.” Grasping both of her hands, he moved them to her lower back and held them both in his much bigger one. “If twenty licks don’t get it for you, twenty more will.”
“No, no, no, wait.”
“No worries, it will be done over your drawers so it’s all decent-like.”
Lyle reached down, grabbed a fistful of her skirt and flipped it back until her bottom was bared to him. Bare it was.
He froze as he stared down at the round, smooth curves of her naked backside. In his haste to rein her tantrum in, he hadn’t considered that when she’d dressed after her bath that she wouldn’t have put on shift or pantalettes beneath her dress. However, now that he’d seen all her splendor, he couldn’t go backwards.
He’d lied, neither of them was decent in this situation, she was bare from the waist down and he was hard. The best thing for both was to get the spanking over with. He’d spanked a woman before - all whores, to be honest – so, he was no novice, and normally, he’d have taken a moment to warm her backside; caressing and tapping her backside until it showed just a tinge of pink before he began with a firmer hand. With Rachel, who truly wasn’t his in any way, a woman he’d lusted after for more than a handful of years, he couldn’t let himself touch her longer than was necessary.
So, without preamble, he lit into her. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.
The first four came in secession right on the center of her right cheek, he enjoyed the bounce of her firm flesh beneath his palm.
“Ow. No. Please. I won’t be foolish anymore.”
“This will ensure it.” Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The next set went to the left side.
“Ouch. Owwww…” Rachel kicked and shifted on his lap, trying to slide away.
He held fast. She was blushing red on both of her globes now as he went for the underside of her bottom, right first. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.
Then left. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.
She’d fallen silent, but he could hear her sniffles and moans.
The last set he added more pepper behind it as he went from left to right and added a bit more punch to them to make sure she felt the tenderness the next day when she sat, and days to come when her mind started down the same gopher hole of nonsense.
Whack. Whack.
Whack. Whack.
He stared down at her glorious apple-red bottom and allowed himself the barest of grazes with his knuckles along her backside. Her flesh was perfectly hot to the touch. She smelled of flowers and sweet feminine musk. It was the second scent that made him pull away before he gave into his desire to slip his fingers down the dark cleft at the apex of her thighs and see if the act had excited her, turned her on as it did him. That knowledge would have snapped the tether he had on his tenuous restraint where Rachel was concerned. If he found her wet, he’d find himself crossing more than the line of discipline with Rachel. He could at least convince himself that even though he wasn’t her husband and should not have taken the liberty of spanking her,
he knew that with her father being long dead and her having no male relatives in Grover Town, some man had to show her that he cared for her well-being, that she wasn’t alone.
He’d gladly take up that job, if only because he knew soon that he’d make good on his promise to himself that once he had something to offer a woman, he’d offer for Rachel. Those days were numbered now that he was foreman.
Releasing her hands first, he then lowered the hem of her dress next, before he pulled her up into his lap.
She let out a shuddered breath as a single tear ran along her red damp cheek.
Lifting his hand, he swiped at the moisture on her face. “Are you better now? Calm?”
Her gaze was on the buttons of his shirt, as she nodded.
“Look, Rachel. I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down ever again.” He tipped her chin up so that she was meeting his gaze.
“I won’t.” Her hazel eyes were liquid pools as she stared back at him. “But that doesn’t mean that what I said wasn’t true.”
He stroked his thumb over her chin enjoying the silky feeling of her skin, before he lowered his hand to her waist, the safest place to touch her while she was still on his lap. “You’re sweet, pretty, and kind, that’s the truth.”
“Then why is it that no man ever tried to kiss me?”
It stunned him to witness her lowering her gaze to his mouth as she spoke. As a grown man, he knew when a woman wanted his lips on her. The fact Rachel’s eyes had darkened to a forest green in the fire light, when she looked back up, assured him of what she wanted. What she was quietly asking for, proof. The beautiful woman settled on his lap, wanted validation that she was desirable.
