9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Brendan rushed up and caught Williams’ arm. “Here, now, what’s this all about?”

  Williams jerked his arm from the other man’s grasp. “The stranger and I were coming to an understanding is all.”

  “Now, Tom, it wouldn’t do to smash the stranger on his wedding day,” Mac cautioned.

  Brendan nodded at Mac, and they stepped to shield Dallas from Williams. Dallas tried to stand erect but had to use the trunk for support.

  Brendan’s voice sounded jovial and friendly, as if nothing out of the order had happened. “Tom, I’ve left a jug o’ me best uisge beatha on your wagon step to thank you for helping with the vows.”

  Williams growled again but turned and stomped off, his two relatives trailing.

  When Mac helped Dallas return to his previous spot by the wagon and he’d sunk back to the ground, his new father-in-law thrust a jug into his hands. “Weel, that bit o’ unpleasantness calls for a swallow. Drink up, lad, and celebrate the future o’ your glorious union.”

  Dallas passed it on to Mac. “Perhaps you’ll drink my share. I never touch the stuff.” At least, never again.

  The two men stared at him as if he’d blasphemed. They looked at him, then at one another, and back again at him.

  “Never?” Brendan asked him, his eyes as wide as if Dallas had just announced he’d descended from heaven on a cloud. “Boyo, sure and you’re making a jest?”

  “No, sir. But I happily donate my share to you. I’ll have a cup of water if you don’t mind.”

  Mac rose and fetched a dipper of water from the barrel near the wheel. Dallas drained it and handed the empty gourd back to his brother-in-law.

  Brendan put his arm gently around Dallas’s shoulder and held the jug aloft with the other hand. “Ah, lad, don’t you know that whiskey in the Gaelic ‘tis uisge beatha, the water o’ life?” He passed the jug to Mac.

  Dallas shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not up to that much life or that kind of water right now.” Not since he’d shot an innocent man. The memory never left him.

  “Sláinte.” Mac tipped the jug and passed it back to his father.

  “Means health and ‘tis a toast. Sláinte,” Brendan explained before he took a swig and handed it back to Mac.

  Dallas said, “I could dang sure use health. Was that a blessing or a toast you said at the wedding?”

  He’d already learned Brendan loved to talk. The man beamed and placed his hand on his heart. “A blessing we always use at wedding celebrations. Lessee, in English it goes, ‘May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.’”

  “Nice.” Dallas nodded. Since meeting this group he’d suffered the opposite, rich in misfortune and poor in blessings.

  Mac nodded. “Da knows as many toasts and blessings as most folk know words.”

  Aoife appeared and shooed her son and husband away. “You’ll not be getting Cenora’s good husband in his cups now. Away with you both. I’ll be sitting with my new son while we enjoy the ceilidh festivities.”

  She sank down beside him and slid her arm through his while her son and husband joined the musicians. Brendan picked up a concertina. From the wagon step where his mother must have rested it, Mac grabbed a violin. Each man took another swig from Brendan’s jug. Then, laughing and tapping their feet, the two joined in the entertainment.

  Aoife gave Dallas’s arm a pat and pointed at her daughter. “Just look at her. Ah, sure and you could search the world over and you’d find no lovelier girl to be your wife, and that’s a fact. And a sweeter lass never lived.”

  Dallas raised his gaze where Aoife directed. Four girls danced, but only one drew his attention. Shoulders straight and feet flying, Cenora met his glance, then broke away from the other dancers to perform only a few yards from him.

  Catcalls sounded nearby. She ignored them but gave a toss of her head. Her hair had come unbound, and her act sent her fiery hair awhirl. Light from the blazing campfire behind her cast an aura-like radiance around her. Lantern glow overhead reflected her eyes sparked with merriment, challenge, and something mysterious he couldn’t name.

  No longer the delicate china doll, her wild beauty called to him, mesmerized him. He visualized her brilliant tresses spread across a pillow, her milky skin bared only for him. His body responded, and savage desire shot through him. Surprised at the depth of his reaction, he wondered if her performance in bed would parallel the unbridled nature of her dance.

  Good Lord, could this glorious woman truly be his wife? And, if so, heaven help him, what on earth was he to do with her?

  ****

  Well past midnight, Dallas’s new brothers-in-law helped him back to the wagon. He had tried to stand, but by this time weariness and his injuries conquered him. Mac and Finn lugged him like a sack of grain back to the wagon he’d used for his recovery.

  Apparently Mac had freely imbibed the water of life. He stumbled and wove in a gait that jerked Dallas with every step. When his new relatives released him, Dallas fell onto the bed, grateful for the thin mattress in spite of its deficient length. Mac tugged at one boot and Finn the other.

  Finn said, “We might as well get you out of those clothes, for I don’t think you’ll be needing ‘em for the night’s activities.” He and Mac laughed at his jest until Mac almost fell across the bed and Finn had to steady him.

  Quickly as Finn had spoken, he and Mac shucked Dallas out of his clothes and dropped the blanket over him. Most of the work fell to Finn while Mac leaned against the wall. By this time, too weary to protest their invasive aid, Dallas let them fumble off his garments.

  He looked around to see if his new wife watched. Apparently Cenora had stepped away, for he didn’t see her. Good.

  Mac leaned in and down, with breath strong enough to intoxicate a lesser man than Dallas. “You’d bes’ heed me warnin’ ‘bout bein’ good to our sis’er.”

  Dallas doubted Mac could even focus his eyes let alone remember his threat. On the other hand, Finn appeared sober.

  Finn nodded. “Aye, we’d not take kindly to anyone mistreating the lass.”

  Dallas fanned a hand in front of his face to diffuse the fumes from Mac’s breath. “Mac’s drunk as a skunk.”

  “Am not,” Mac protested. “Da says an Irishman’s never drunk if he can hold on to one blade of grass and not fall off the face of the earth.” He laughed until he fell against the wall.

  Finn grabbed Mac’s arm. “Come on, boyo, off with you afore you break yourself or something else.”

  Soon the sway of the wagon let Dallas know they were on the move. Cenora appeared beside the bed and braced a hand on the cupboards around the bunk.

  At his puzzled frown, she said, “They’re moving us a short way into the trees for a wee bit o’ privacy.” Apparently used to the vehicle’s motion, she fussed with the blanket and tucked it over him before she disappeared from view.

  Good, perhaps another sleeping area sat forward, and she’d gone there. He wanted nothing more than unhindered sleep for days until his pain left. By then surely his kin would arrive.

  The wagon’s rocking motion stopped after only a minute or two. Soon he heard Mac and Finn call good night, laughing and talking as they left. Dallas closed his eyes and wriggled until he’d found a tolerable position. He exhaled a grateful breath. Peace at last.

  The covers moved, and Cenora slid in beside him. A lantern hung from the ceiling and cast a soft glow across his trembling bride. He met her gaze. Her wide eyes held uncertainty, fear, and worry. What did she expect of him or know of joining with a man? Did her trepidation represent innocence or fear he’d discover her sham?

  Since everything went to hell, this was the first time it had been quiet enough for him to think and plan, but now he wasn’t alone. He had her.

  Forever.

  Or did he? He wondered again if she’d pulled this same trick before with other men. H
ad she staged a series of mock weddings to line her family’s pockets? Was she virgin or jezebel?

  At any other time, he’d welcome losing himself inside her to learn the answer. Even though her beauty lured him, his battered body cried out for respite. Surely she realized his injuries meant he needed rest. What the hell should he say or do now?

  She smelled like the roses of her middle name, and her skin looked soft as a flower petal. He wondered where a poor lass acquired scented soap and how often she bothered to use it. She pulled the blanket to her chin and appeared to wait expectantly. If she wasn’t a virgin, she put on a good show.

  “Ma told me what to expect,” her voice quavered. “So, I’m willing to do me duty by you.”

  Do her duty by him? Like hell. As if he’d asked her to share his bed—or to be his wife. As if he sought any part of this farce.

  What did she expect of him? He was the one wronged here, forced to wed a woman he didn’t want after saving her from misuse. Once they consummated the ridiculous marriage, he figured there’d be no going back. Though he’d sure as hell like to get out of this union, as a man of honor he didn’t see how he could once they’d sealed the bargain. Not unless he found out he’d been duped, then she and her kin could go to hell and back for all he cared.

  He was all set to tell her she could go right off to sleep and not worry about her so-called duty. Then she snuggled closer and laid her hand on his bare chest.

  Aw, damn.

  Her fingers smoothed across him in a gentle gesture that zinged lightning from his aching head to his cramped toes and then back up where it settled in his groin. Heat surged through him, and his manhood grew hard as a fence post. He moved to slide his arm under her and cushion her head on his good shoulder. She sighed and molded herself to him as she had this morning in sleep.

  Good Lord Almighty, was it only this morning?

  “I can’t do right by you injured as I am. Perhaps we should wait to seal our marriage until I’m fit.” Unless he escaped before then.

  She rolled to her side and raised over him. Her gorgeous auburn hair fell like a waterfall across his bare chest. How much could any man—even one stove up as he was—take?

  Tears gathered in her luminous eyes. “But...but we must. You have to, um, make me your wife. Ma and the other women will come in the morn to inspect the bedding. They’ll have to hang it outside the wagon to display.”

  “They’ll what?” He frowned, thinking he must have misunderstood. Surely that sort of inspection wasn’t done in this day and age.

  “Don’t you see? Ma and others will be here early on the morrow to check for proof o’ me maiden’s blood on the sheet. If there’s no mark, ‘tis shamed I’ll be, for they’ll think I was ruined before we wed.”

  Well, dang, he hadn’t misunderstood.

  Leaning over him in the small bunk, she hovered inches above him. Lamplight set her glorious hair aflame where it spread across his chest. The scent of her filled him and set his imagination on a wild course. He pushed a curl from her face and tucked it behind her dainty ear. Her exotic sensuality fascinated him. Before he knew what he was about, he cupped her jaw in his hand and pulled her to him.

  She kept her lips pressed in a firm line like the virgin she pretended. Not that he was all that experienced either, but he sure as hell knew enough to guide her. Under his coaxing, she relaxed and her mouth softened. She tasted sweet as Aunt Kathryn’s cinnamon buns or the candy Grandpa kept in a jar on his desk.

  Dallas slid his tongue between her lips. She gasped and bit down.

  Instantly, he winced and pulled away. “Ow! Why’d you do that? Aren’t I in enough pain without you chomping on me?”

  He touched a finger to his tongue. “Dang, you drew blood.” Maybe she was untried. He’d know soon enough.

  Her eyes widened, frightened as a colt in a storm. “Oh, mercy, ‘tis that sorry I am. You surprised me is all. It—it seemed indecent, putting your tongue inside me mouth like you did.”

  He stopped and exhaled his frustration. Reining in his raging lust, he gathered his patience. “That’s the way married people kiss.” And lots of others, he thought, but kept that to himself lest he startle her more.

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you storying to me? You think because I’m a raw Irish lass you can make fun o’ me?”

  He groaned. Maybe it would be easier to slit his finger and bleed on the sheet. “And why would I lie?”

  She stared at him as if she mentally cataloged reasons. There seemed to be a lot.

  He exhaled again and fought for patience. “It’s the truth, I swear. Shall we try again? This time, no biting. Follow my lead.” Maybe she really was a virgin. Either way, he figured he had to seduce her.

  She nodded, but her nervous giggle bubbled up to annoy him. He forgot his ire when her velvet lips touched his. This time she opened her mouth for him, a little slit at first. As his probing renewed, she tentatively tapped her tongue to his and settled against him.

  Dang, once she set her mind to it, she learned quickly and set his blood boiling so he almost forgot his injuries. Almost, but not quite. An anvil in his head already pounded, and he’d be sure to bust open his stitches. He no longer cared. No way could he go about this as he’d like, but he vowed to give it his best effort.

  He broke away to shower kisses across her satin face and down her ivory throat. For a rough living girl, she sure had soft skin. She arched her neck to expose herself to him.

  “That’s a lovely nightdress, but let’s get rid of it.”

  She looked shocked, hesitant. “But Ma said I’d only need to raise it for you.”

  “Oh, and what else did she say?”

  Her lip trembled. “T-To do as you say.” With a sigh she pulled away, and one of her hands went to the ribbons at her neck. “I’ve forgotten to turn out the lamp, so I’ll just be doing that now.” She slid out of bed.

  He tugged at the tail of her nightdress. “No, leave it. I want to see you.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she met his gaze. “S-see me? You mean, without me clothes?” She toyed with one ribbon.

  He nodded, ready to explode with urgency. “Yes, without a stitch on.”

  Unconvinced, she shook her head. “It—it doesn’t sound decent, I mean, even if you are me husband. Mayhap you think I’m not a good woman, just because me family’s with the tinkers.”

  He evaded a denial. “You’re my wife now. Husbands and wives see one another with no clothes on. It’s a part of marriage.” He wanted to undress her himself, but the throbbing of his shoulder warned him to conserve his strength for the most important part of this exercise.

  She frowned. “No clothes atall?” Her fingers toyed with the ribbons, but she hadn’t untied them yet. Did she know how she teased?

  “None.” Oh, he knew some couples didn’t share such openness, but since he had been forced into this union, he intended none of the Puritan secrecy he’d heard some women and a few men insisted upon. He met her gaze. “Please, you know my wounds hamper me from helping you.”

  Her eyes sparked anger. “Now don’t go after playing on me sympathies, Dallas McClintock. ‘Tis well aware I am o’ how you came to be injured.”

  She sighed and pulled the ribbons of her gown loose. “All right, if you say ‘tis so, then so be it.” Her gown dropped to the floor, but before he had a chance to linger over her perfect form, she slid under the blanket and jerked it up under her chin.

  Her body touched his, skin to skin, and each of them jumped at the new sensation. His arousal as hard as a wagon tongue, he snuggled her close. She stiffened, and he knew he had moved too fast.

  “Relax, wife.” He wanted to remind her this was all right. “Let me pleasure you to ease the way.”

  “P-Pleasure me? I thought all this was for a man’s enjoyment.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “Y-You intend to pleasure me?

  “Reckon so, then I’ll show you how to return the favor.” He cupped her breast in his han
d and inched down in the bunk intent on pressing his mouth to her nipple.

  The movement cost him plenty in pain and doubled his legs until he lay in a squat with his feet and rear pressed against the wall at the foot of the bed. In doing so, he pushed her so near the edge of their narrow mattress that she grasped his arms to save herself from a fall.

  “This is no good,” he said. “Get up.”

  Her lip trembled, but she stood and pulled the blanket around her. “What did I do wrong? Are you going to beat me?” She crept from the bed and pulled the blanket with her, skittish as an unbroken filly.

  Anger shot through him at the injustice of her question. “Dang, how can you ask such a question? Are you so accustomed to rough treatment you think me capable of abusing you? Have I done or said anything since we met to make you think I would hit a woman?”

  “N-No. I meant no insult. ‘Tis only I feared, because this was forced on you and I knew you were angry. And when you said it was no good and stopped your wooing, I—”

  “I’m plenty angry, that’s true, but not so much at you.” Realizing he’d snapped at her, he calmed his voice to the soothing tone he used when training a new horse. “We’re just moving a bit, but I’ll need your help. This bed’s too short for me and too narrow for us to share properly, especially with me stove up as I am.”

  Waves of pain and dizziness assaulted him. Though he hadn’t meant to have her, now the promise of her sweet reward drove him. He raised himself on the edge of the bed and swung his feet to the floor.

  Cenora gasped at his nakedness and turned her face away. He saw her covertly assess him as he tried to stand in the passageway beside the bed.

  “Help me slide the mattress to the floor.” Balancing against the frame of the berth with his weak arm, he tugged the mattress until it slid to his feet. He edged away until the bedding lay flat.

  Immediately she straightened the sheet over their nest and plumped the pillows on the floor at the end to give him more room. He tried to sink slowly but fell more than kneeled, then lay down. Ah, how soothing to lie with his legs straight, even if they stuck several inches beyond the mattress. His wife sat beside him and arranged the blanket over his feet while keeping herself covered as well, no small task.