Hell's Belle

by Shannah Biondine

  "That's right, Twila. Damned right. Now we're going to roll over here," he grunted, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning their locked bodies until she was on top. She opened her eyes, looking down at him in surprise and wonder. "It's up to you now, Twilagleam. Dig your knees into the mattress. We got a distance, going to take a jump."

  He wasn't even able to form words any longer. Every pant now was just to feed his muscles as he began thrusting in earnest. And Twila? She had those knees dug in like he'd told her. Had her arms wrapped around his neck. She clung to him like she was riding bareback for her life, being chased by a whole tribe of Indians. He grabbed hold of her bottom with both hands and reached for the ceiling. Thrusting, pushing, crazed beyond anything he'd felt before, her moans keeping time with his panting and grunting until—

  He couldn't get his breath. Neither could she. For several minutes, there was nothing but sweat and hard breathing…and then he felt them, warm, trickling along his neck and shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey." He was afraid she'd want to pull away, hide from him and the shame of what they'd done…because by now he knew Twila well enough to sense she hadn't really understood what it was between a man and woman. And especially a gal's first time, there was mess and discomfort. It wasn't pretty. But he wouldn't let her go.

  Couldn't stomach the thought of her slinking off or looking at him like he was some monster. He tightened his arms around her waist. Not in a commanding, forceful way. Just slid them easy, going for warm reassurance. "I guess it wasn't what you thought," he whispered. He flexed himself, deep inside her. "But you got to admit, that was pretty remarkable and we fit damned good together. You're going to make an even better wife than I could have asked for, Twila."

  She cut loose a sob and clung to him, crying her heart out. Finally he'd gone flaccid enough to pull out, pour some water into the wash basin and find a towel. She let out a horrified little shriek when she saw what he intended and buried her face in the pillows…but she let him gently clean her up.

  And more importantly, she let him pull a quilt over both of them and draw her back into his arms. He gently ran his index finger around a nipple. "I hope it wasn't too awful for you. Gal's first time is usually a little rough. But—"

  She shut him up with an open-mouthed kiss, even as she wriggled, placing his full palm over her breast. The kiss was long and slow and hotter than hell. When it was over, he found her eyes open and searching his. "So you're not mad at me?" he asked solemnly. The time for games and hints of amusement was long past. Twila looked deadly earnest, a little confused, and he wasn't feeling all that jocular himself.

  "I didn't know…I—I…"

  "You need to rest. So do I. Never got much sleep last night. But remember what I told you? It's all natural and blessed. It's all right to tell me what you like and don't. It's all right to ask me for something…you know, if there's…" He felt like an idiot. Settled for rubbing her breast with his palm, teasing its nipple just a bit. And judging by how quickly it puckered right up, he knew what she was having trouble saying.

  "Twila? Do you need to talk about things? I told you just to hush before, and things went pretty…God, I can't dress it up for you. You're a fine fuck, lady. I've never had better. And if you're wondering how I feel or what I think, I think you'll play hell ever getting me to leave you be." He swallowed. "You were made for this, honey."

  The most bizarre thing happened. Twila broke into the widest smile he'd ever seen her give him. "So I'm not cursed?"

  "Cursed? We've been all over that. Your cousin just used people's superstitions to build up a whole big fat lie. There's never been—"

  "No, I mean because it was so…I like it, very much. You touching me. It hurt at first like you said, but then it…I felt like…almost like the 'bombs bursting in air' part of the song, Del!"

  He guffawed. One belly laugh followed the other. He was half afraid he'd offended her, but she cheerfully erupted in glee herself. To think he'd been so worried, thinking she'd be all wounded, or maybe offended. Del laughed until he cried, until his gut was sore and Twila seemed all chuckled out herself.

  And then he silently reached for her, and she snuggled close. Moments later he could tell she'd fallen asleep, wrapped in his arms, so soft and precious. He had no laughter left. He was physically and emotionally spent. Felt like he'd been dragged by a horse across fifty miles of desert. But he grinned as he snuggled against his bride.

  And just before he fell asleep, he hummed a few bars. Bombs bursting, huh? He'd had some wild women, some crazy times. But this was the first time any gal had ever compared his lovemaking to mortar rocket fire.

  * * *

  Twila thought she'd forever look back on her second afternoon as a married woman with genuine wonder and bemusement. They'd done such very astonishing things the afternoon before, and later in the middle of the night. The second time Del had made love to her, she was grateful for the deep darkness of the ranch house bedroom, grateful he couldn't see her face as she put into words thoughts no decent woman should entertain.

  Sex with one's husband was indelicate, to say the least. After polishing off the tray of victuals Biscuit had left out on the front porch early that morning, they'd napped briefly. Then Twila awakened and had asked Del if she could take a bath. Del put on his work pants and left the house—instructing her not to dare leave the bed. He was back a short time later with a big tin tub. A knock came at the door and he hollered to just leave the buckets.

  Del's crusty old ranch cook surely must know why they wanted so much hot water, Twila had observed. Del had only laughed. "Honey, they know you're not about to take a cold bath down in the Truckee. Some of the hands do it, during warmer months. But I always make Biscuit boil hot water for me. He'll just be boiling it more often now." This last came with a devilish quirk to one eyebrow, and Twila wasn't surprised when he quickly divested himself of his pants and started filling the tin tub with the hot water, settling in himself before he beckoned for her to join him.

  "Oh, I don't know," she demurred, feeling her face burn. "I'm a little sore to…you know."

  Del guffawed almost as hard as he had the previous day. She offered a rueful smile. He kinked his index finger at her again. "I know, honey. Just settle here in front of me and I'll wash your back."

  She climbed into the hot water and immediately decided this pleasure might even surpass conjugal acrobatics…might, though she had to admit, she'd been truly amazed at how wonderful the other had felt. "Umm." She squirmed as his warm, wet hands reached around to cover her breasts.

  "Are your nipples sore?" came a rumble behind her ear.

  "A little, but—oh!" She might have known Del would know the secret of hot water and soap lather. "Uh…oh. Del." His name had come out on a long groan.

  "Just put your head on my shoulder and rest your weight against my chest. Yeah, like that. I can work any soreness right out. Just close your eyes and relax, Twila."

  His big fingers worked her flesh, rolling, massaging, tweaking, pulling. Pinching, then rubbing and rolling again. "Del, I…" Her words dissolved into a moan.

  "I know, sweetheart. Just let go. Trust me. It's not going to hurt a bit, Twila. Remember how I promised to look after you. Let me make things better now."

  But they didn't get better. Twila went from loose and relaxed to tight and needy, squirming, unable to sit still atop his thighs. "Del, it's not…I need to…I feel like I'm going to just—oh!"

  He pinched one nipple at the same moment she felt two of his fingers slide up and into her. Then his thumb—then Twila shuddered and gasped and came. And came. And came, until she was helplessly moaning. He began lathering her breasts and belly again, then pressed her forward so her hair dangled into the hot water as her chin dropped to her chest. "Better?"

  She couldn't answer him. Thank God he couldn't see her face. Had she really? Had he really just…they were bathing, for pity's sake! But then she recalled her own assessment of him. She'd credited him with being able to q
uickly get right to the root of a matter and deal with it directly. She shouldn't have expected anything less when it came to the female anatomy. He hadn't exactly been a choirboy.

  "Del?" she peeped.

  "Mmm?" He was lathering her hair now.

  "Did you do these things with Betsy or that other girl who came to the emporium that day? Or with the girl you originally intended to marry?"

  He began using a pot to rinse her hair. A few sloshes and he told her to get out of the tub. She was done. She grabbed a towel and stepped back, half afraid to look at him. He did indeed look angry. "Can I ask you a question, too?" he asked harshly.

  "Yes, but you know I haven't been with any other men." She began using a second towel to dry her hair as he began soaping himself.

  "Is the answer going to help you somehow? Will you like me touching you more? Or will you maybe like it less, because now it's not just you and me, but some other people getting between us, when they don't have anything to do with this house and this bedroom?"

  Twila heard censure. Nothing new, she'd heard it for years from her uncle. But she also detected a little hurt, and she immediately regretted that she'd opened her mouth. "I'm sorry. That violated our sanctity. Forget I asked."

  She saw his eyebrows shoot up at the pivotal word. But then they lowered into a scowl, and as he began rinsing off his body, he said, "Well, since we're washing away the last of whatever we'd covered up from each other, let's set a rinse cup to this. Why don't you tell me why you act so funny every time I say anything about the church or Preacher Phillips? I used to think it was cause folks had shunned you when you went there, but my own wranglers are a little leery and it shows. You stand up to that all right. So what is it about the church?"

  "It's not the church," she muttered.

  "The reverend? Spit it out, Twila."

  "The day you'd knocked at the door of the emporium and found it locked…The same day I said I'd wandered along the river and ended up here at your spread?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I hadn't been walking by the river and the emporium wasn't empty. Reverend Phillips had stopped by unannounced. He said my uncle wanted him to talk with me, but we couldn't be disturbed by customers coming in, so I should lock the door. We needed to go upstairs, to pray."

  "Upstairs." Del came out of the tub and seized a towel. He rubbed himself furiously. So furiously Twila was afraid he was going to rub off part of his skin.

  "He quoted biblical references and said things about how I must have sinned against God and that's why I'd become like Jonah."

  "The preacher actually called you that?" Del all but hissed the question through clenched teeth. "What else did he say?"

  "I can't remember it all, but he stressed about how I had to bare myself to him. He used the word 'naked', saying I should bare everything to him and be cleansed. I didn't like the way he looked at me, and he said he would be coming back another day. The thought made me ill. I know I probably shouldn't have taken it the way I did, but—Del?"

  While she'd been rambling on, he'd gone to dress himself and now was loading his rifle. "Del, what—"

  "That bastard isn't going to get away with this. I wished you'd told me from the first why you had such an aversion to the church here in town That son of a bitch—"

  "Del, don't. Please don't make an issue out of this. I don't have to see him again alone now."

  "I wish I'd known before. We didn't have to ride all the way to Reno. If you'd said something, I—"

  "I didn't even know you, Del. It was never the church building, though I thought maybe it was better that it not be the same church…You know, where the other woman had hurt you. I wanted you to see I'd never fail you the way she did."

  He set the gun down and turned to stare at her. "You married me out of pity, Twila?" Before she could deny it, he laughed harshly. "Funny, that's what everybody thinks is why I married you."

  Yes, it was. How could she have forgotten? No matter that she'd experienced sexual bliss with this man—and it might well be temporary. Why hadn't she stopped to think that Fletcher and Lucius must hate her all the more now, would be saying even worse things about her? At the top of the list that she'd somehow "bewitched" one of the town's eligible bachelors into marrying her. It couldn't have been because he wanted to, unless he felt sorry for her.

  "Why did you, Del?" she asked quietly, even as tears formed and began to wet her cheeks.

  His entire demeanor and face changed. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "I didn't mean there was anything to it, Twila. You know it's not true. I've never believed rumors about you being some daughter of Satan. You're not cursed. Christ, you're really…" He pulled back and Twila nearly died.

  There were unshed tears in his eyes.

  "You're fine, honey. And I'm glad you told me the truth about Phillips. Shows you're beginning to trust me. I won't go make a scene over there. Already made one at the emporium, and it's not going to help you any if people say your new husband's going all over town half-cocked, acting like some circus baboon."

  "No," she whispered. "It wouldn't help."

  He released her and stepped away. "I should probably check on the men."

  "Should I…Is it all right if I dress now, too?"

  "Do whatever you want. If you're tired and you want to crawl back into bed, that's fine. Nobody will pester you. If you feel up to it, we could maybe take a walk. I won't be long."

  He left and she let herself be overcome with despair. It was worse than when she'd gotten the news that her parents had been lost. This wasn't some unfortunate accident, a random tragedy. She'd sold herself into this bargain, taken a wild chance on a man she didn't even know. He'd been a handsome stranger who made her heart race. Now he was her husband, her lynch pin. Everything depended on this new relationship.

  Yet he was still a stranger.

  And he had married her at least partly out of sympathy for her awkward situation. She'd taken the abuse from her uncle, the cruel jokes and pranks from her cousin, the disdain of this stupid town and its small-minded people. But this was harder to bear. Pity from Del Mitchell, the man who'd captured a little piece of her heart.

  CHAPTER 10

  Del watched his bride begin to unfurl and blossom under his care. The change came gradually, along with the change of seasons from summer to autumn. Leaves were turning and dropping. Twila fit the landscape, brought vibrancy to his daily life, felt like another breath of fresh mountain air.

  It wasn't that she was a raving beauty, or said or did anything to draw attention to herself. That wasn't and would likely never be her way. But Twila Bell, now Twila Mitchell, made the everything feel more alive just by being there on his ranch. Amazing how the presence of one little woman amongst so many men and horses could make such a difference.

  In the weeks since their abrupt marriage, Del couldn't count the number of times he'd come back to the ranch house in the middle of the day just to make sure she was truly in it. The times he'd lain awake, watching her sleep. A few of those times he hadn't been able to content himself with just quietly looking at her. He'd untied her nightgown, begun caressing her, kissing various parts of her, until she roused and began to stretch and purr like a little cat. She'd never once complained. They'd pleasure each other, curl up, and drift off to sleep. The best sleep he'd ever known.

  Naturally, there'd been a very bad scene with her relatives across town. Her uncle sneered and scoffed, until Del made it very clear that either the Bell menfolk treated Twila with respect, or they could take their new business elsewhere. Del Mitchell had been born and raised in Wadsworth. Everyone in town knew him, and most had heard the tale of how the local rowdy bachelor had up and married himself to the gal nobody wanted. Eloped with her to Reno, then installed her as his cattle queen.

  He'd seen folks in town gawking, craning their necks to get a good look the first time he took her with him in the buggy. A few kisses and cuddles within plain view of those prying eyes had the
intended result. The rumors stopped insisting Del had only married her on a reckless dare. The tales of bewitchment either ceased or altered, to where Del's perceived "enchantment" was the decidedly pleasant sort. The kind men would give their eye teeth for.

  Only Del knew different. If there was something magical at work, it didn't necessarily affect them equally. Even as he grew more intrigued and obsessed with his little bride with every passing day, Twila appeared to have settled into something he'd categorize as amiable contentment.

  "Can you believe it, Sandy?" he snorted now. "Me, the man the local fallen angels scrambled after, married…to the woman no other fella in town would have. I can't stop itching to be around her. It's like hives or something. Wherease she's damned close to indifferent."

  He and Sandy were in a small watering hole in Reno, a place where the walls didn't have ears. Jordy was across the street in a different establishment. So Del could finally get some advice from the older foreman. A man whose judgment Del trusted.

  "Indifferent? You mean…at those times, when it matters most?" Sandy's voice dropped to a bare whisper. "You saying you're stuck with a wife who's frigid?"

  Del flushed. Twila was as far from frigid as a man could want. "No, she warms up real nice come bedtime. She's downright greedy for it. Adventurous, even." He squirmed in his seat, questioning whether he really should have launched into this topic.

  "But you've seen her during the days out at the spread. It's like I'm just another bronco buster or some fellow come to beat the front-room rug. She's pleasant and all, but I can't seem to get anything more than that out of her."

  "Hmm." Sandy thought for a moment. "You ever stop to think that maybe she doesn't know what you expect?"

  Del ran his finger around the rim of his whiskey tumbler. "I told her. Before we got hitched. I told her I wanted her to be faithful and to trust me. That I'd never let anyone hurt her or insult her again, the way her kin had done."