by Sharon Ihle
"Oh, well, of course."
The minute Hawke turned his back and started for the door, an enormously relieved Lacey glanced down at her skirt to look for any damage she might have inflicted upon it. The puncture marks from the needle had faded by now, leaving nothing but Hawke's memory—and perhaps his damnable ledger book—to point out her ineptitude as a seamstress. Lacey took it as a lucky sign anyway and lightly tapped the heels of her boots together, jingling her spurs. Then she followed her husband out the door. It didn't matter the manner of chore Hawke had selected for her to do in the barn, she thought with anticipation. Compared to the curse of this silly mending business, anything else he asked of her would be like picking clover.
Once they were outside, instead of going straight to the barn, Hawke directed Lacey to follow him to the hitching post out front where a horse was tied.
"This is Dolly," he said, taking the animal by the halter as he introduced her. "She's part mustang and, I suspect, a little bit of everything else that roamed these hills over the years. I haven't had much time to work with her yet, but I think she might be a good little saddle horse one day. Maybe even for you, if you like her."
"For me?"
He nodded. "What do you think of her?"
Surprised by the offer, but pleased since Lacey took this gift as a definite sign that Hawke had forgiven her outburst in the kitchen, she examined the cute little bay mare. Dolly was dark brown all over with a black mane and tail, a white blaze which ran from her forelock to the tip of her nose, and four white socks, the pair in the rear decorated with black spots which resembled anklets.
Lacey offered her left palm to the animal's muzzle. "She's a beauty, Mr. Winterhawke, a sweet little lass and one I'd be proud to call my own. I thank you kindly."
"Hawke, Lacey," he corrected gently, "just Hawke. And you're welcome. I'm going to clean her up a little now, and I'm not too sure how she's going to feel about having water splashed over her. I'd like you to hold her and make her acquaintance, speaking quietly like you did with Taffy. Just keep her as relaxed as possible. Can you manage?"
"Oh, aye—the lass is already acting like a very good friend of mine." And it was true. Everywhere Lacey touched Dolly, the animal leaned into her, begging for more. "You can go on about your business now. We'll be just fine."
"I'm sure you will." Hawke gave Lacey a long look as he pulled the tails of his shirt out of his trousers, completely unlaced the garment, then slipped it off and hung it over the hitching post. Taking the bucket in one hand and a rag in the other, he began washing the animal, explaining a little more about her as he worked. "Dolly's too small to sell to the cavalry, and because of her size I'd pretty much decided against breeding her, too. Now that she's in season, though, I figured I'd give her one chance to see what she and Phantom can come up with. It might just turn out to be a good match after all."
"You mean the lass is to become a mother?"
"If she catches, she will be in just under a year."
As if agreeing to the plan, Dolly raised her head and uttered a shrill whinny, the effort vibrating her entire body, and then she began to stamp nervously in place. When a resounding whinny echoed from the barn in response to her call, Dolly's tail began to twitch and she sidestepped, swinging her rump up hard against Hawke's backside.
"Easy, girl," he murmured. "It won't be long now. Hold her a little tighter, would you, Lacey?"
"Oh, aye." She renewed her grip, doing a good job of calming the horse, and was listening hard to Hawke's instructions and explanations, but the majority of Lacey's attention—and her gaze—was focused on the fact that he was wearing nothing but his buckskin trousers; pants, now that they were wet, that clung to his muscular thighs and rode down low on his trim hips.
She'd never seen so much of him before, always going out of her way to keep her eyes shut each morning and night as he slipped in and out of bed. Now that she had looked upon her husband's nearly nude body, Lacey couldn't keep her eyes off his nakedness, especially the way the muscles of his back and shoulders rippled and bunched while he worked on bathing the little mare.
Dolly whinnied again, and once more received a return call from the barn. This time, she tossed her head and tried to twist out of Lacey's grasp. "Behave yourself... lass," she said, her voice faltering, a little breathless. "You must obey Hawke and let him finish with you."
She glanced at him then, aware he'd turned his gaze on her, and found herself trapped as usual. Yet, something in the way he was looking at her today was different, ominous even. It gave her a little flutter down low in her tummy, but then Hawke's curious expression vanished, and in its place, he flashed the dazzling smile that always turned her insides to jam. A sudden tremor racked Lacey's body, and her knees went weak.
She tried to draw a breath of air, but gasped instead. "Lord," she said, fanning herself, "isn't it a hot one outside today?"
The wind that always seemed to be blowing through Centennial Valley felt cool against Hawke's skin, almost chilly, but he smiled as he said, "Just a touch." Then he picked up the long white strip of cloth he'd rolled into a ball, and began to wrap Dolly's tail with it.
Still having trouble holding the mare in place, not to mention keeping her own body under control, Lacey asked, "Why are you putting a bandage on the lass's tail? Has she hurt herself?"
"No, she's fine." He spoke to his wife in his best gentling voice, the tone low and husky. "Horsehair is very strong, almost like wire. The bandage is just a precaution to make sure Phantom doesn't get cut."
"Phantom? What does he have to do with her tail?"
"As I said earlier, I've decided I'd like to see what they can produce together." Hawke glanced at Lacey and winked. "Are you ready to go to the barn? Dolly's getting really impatient."
The horse was dancing in place by now, but Lacey barely took notice of the animal as the implications of what Hawke was suggesting sank in. Surely he didn't mean he expected her to help in the actual mating of the horses.
She took a breath, which again was more of a gasp, and said, "You intend to... to breed Dolly with Phantom, then?"
"That's the way it's usually done." Hawke circled the mare's hindquarters, then moved up to the hitching post to untie her. "She's getting awfully skittish. It might be best if I walk her to the barn. You can take over again in there."
"B-But..." Hurrying along behind Hawke and Dolly, Lacey couldn't help but notice that he hadn't bothered to put his shirt back on. And somehow he'd managed to get water all over the seat of his buckskins; now they clung to his backside, making that area look as if he wore nothing at all. Allowing herself a little more of the visual luxury, Lacey's gaze traveled up and down the length of her husband's body as she asked, "But can't you just turn Phantom loose in his corral, or in with the mares to accomplish the, ah, deed?"
He answered her from over his shoulder. "No, Irish. A million things can go wrong when you let horses breed in the pasture. I've seen everything from stallions who've been kicked in very, er, sensitive places, damaging them badly enough to ruin them as studs, to broken legs, which ruins them period. Phantom is too valuable to me to be taking any chances with him." He paused then, turned, and gave Lacey a piercing look. "This is one day, Irish miss, when I'm not about to let anything go wrong. Come along now."
With that, Hawke and the mare passed through the wide double doors, and in a second were swallowed up inside the barn. Lacey, who stood just outside, gulped and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her heart was pounding crazily, her mind a flurry of wild thoughts. Part of her, a very wicked part, she thought, was enormously excited by the idea of observing this ritual; an act, like birth, she'd never witnessed before in any creature. And yet to watch such an intimacy in the company of a man, never mind that he was her husband, seemed terribly—
"Lacey," Hawke called from the bowels of the barn. "I need your help in here, and I need it now." As if to punctuate the statement further, both Dolly and Phantom cut loose with shrill whinnies,
startling her to action.
"Coming," she cried, rushing inside the huge building. As her eyes adjusted to the darker lighting, she saw Hawke standing in front of the sturdily built hitching rail he'd erected in the center of the barn. There he did everything from trimming hooves to doctoring sick animals, and apparently... breeding them, too.
Out of breath for more reasons than one now, Lacey stopped just short of Dolly. The horses were continually calling to each other by now, their shrill cries filling the inside of the barn with a deafening clamor. She shouted over the din. "What do you want me to do?"
"Stand right where you are. I'm going to run Dolly by Phantom a time or two. She's never been bred before and might be a little afraid." Hawke turned away from the mare and focused on his wife. "It's all right, though. Phantom will know how to relax her and make her want him as much as he wants her. It's his job. Just be ready to take her if I call on you."
Lacey nodded, but she had the strangest feeling that Hawke was talking more about her than the horses. Mesmerized as the drama between the equines unfolded, she dismissed the thought and watched as Hawke brought Dolly lengthwise against the stallion's stall. The mare squealed and kicked out at the wooden door separating her from the stud. Phantom arched his neck and reached out to her from over the top of the door, and she quieted in an instant. Nickering low but continually, he nuzzled her withers, then moved slowly down her spine, nuzzling and lightly nipping at her as he went along. When he reached her croup just short of her wrapped tail, the nickering grew louder, the nips more passionate. Dolly, responding to the stud, flipped her tail to one side and sprayed the stall door. Phantom raised his head high, stretching his magnificent silvery neck to its full length, and curled his upper lip to better enjoy Dolly's scent. Then he cut loose with a savage scream.
"That's it for now, friend," said Hawke as he forcefully led the excited mare away from the stall. Moving quickly now, he tied Dolly firmly to the hitching rail, then turned to Lacey. Things were going just as he'd planned with both the animals and his wife, if the look in Lacey's eyes meant what he hoped it did. Not only did she appear to be fascinated by the horses, but he thought he glimpsed more than a passing interest in her husband there, too.
"Come here, Irish," he said in hushed tones. She immediately moved over to where he stood, away from the animals, but in clear view of them. "I'm going to get Phantom now, and if all goes well, just the sight of you nearby will keep Dolly calm enough for her to behave. If I need you, I'll tell you exactly what to do. Got it?"
"Aye," is what she said, but it came out as more of a sigh. Flashing that dazzling smile her way one more time, Hawke turned and started for the stallion, his back and the wide expanse of muscle there glistening in the semidarkness. Lacey caught her breath, then took another as Hawke released the latch and led the sleek stallion out of the enclosure toward the mare. The horses were calling to one another again, but Lacey paid no mind to the racket they caused. She was listening to her husband as he spoke to the animals, concentrating on the calm, firm manner in which he guided the powerful stud. There was no doubt to her or the beasts as to who was in control of the situation here.
"Easy, Phantom," Hawke said in that low dark voice. "Remember your manners, and speak softly to the lady. She's not going anywhere."
The stallion tossed his head impatiently, but didn't make a move that wasn't orchestrated by his master. When Hawke guided Phantom around to Dolly's haunches, Lacey saw that the stud was erect and so huge, she could hardly believe it. She gasped involuntarily, then quickly averted her gaze.
"Don't worry, Irish," came Hawke's soothing voice. "Remember they're made for each other, a perfect fit. Watch, you'll see."
His voice as captivating as his gaze by now, Lacey slowly turned in time to see Hawke lead the stallion up close to the mare. Then he gave Phantom the signal to mount Dolly. The stud rose majestically above the little bay, but lowered himself onto her back with a surprising gentleness, a lightness which didn't seem possible of this thousand-pound beast.
In spite of Phantom's gentle manner and his strict adherence to the rules set down by Hawke, Lacey cringed as the steed joined with Dolly. She started to look away, but then realized that the mare did not seem to be in any pain. In fact, not only was she pain-free, but the little bay had turned her neck around as far as she could get it, and was rubbing her nose against the stallion's muzzle as if kissing him. After a few powerful lunges, the mating was over. Now it was Dolly who nickered, Dolly who appeared the more aggressive of the two animals.
After guiding Phantom through a mannerly dismount, Hawke moved the stallion a safe distance away from the mare. Then he glanced at Lacey from over the exhausted stud's back, locking her in his gaze.
She wondered if he could see that she was trembling, short of breath, and completely consumed by what she'd witnessed here—consumed by that and the sudden image of Hawke joining with her, their steaming bodies entwined as one. At the thought, Lacey grew hot all over, filled with strange and wonderful urges, most of them the needy kind. Very, very needy. But in spite of all that, she was sure she could get control of herself. At least, she had been sure until it occurred to her that Hawke might be thinking of the two of them together as well. She studied his dark expression, looking deeply into his eyes, and thought that maybe he was.
After that, Lacey was lost. As much under Hawke's control as the horses had been. She would do whatever he asked of her. Strangest and most surprising of all, the idea didn't trouble her in the least. She just stood there, basking in the heat of her husband's intense gaze, and waited for him to make the next move.
Encouraged by what he saw in his wife's eyes, Hawke quickly put Phantom back into the stall, then walked Dolly directly to an enclosure several doors away. He did this without taking the usual precaution of walking the mare around a while, something he usually did to ensure retention of the stallion's seed. But today, Hawke wasn't particularly interested in breeding horses. Today, he was interested only in his wife. And if he hadn't completely misread her expression, she was fiercely aroused. Ready, at last, to give herself to him.
Swiftly crossing over to where Lacey stood, Hawke swept her into his arms. Muttering low under his breath, the sound not so unlike one of Phantom's nickers, he said, "Did you see anything ghastly between those two, Irish?"
She shook her head, unable to find words.
Hawke grinned, then slipped his hand down Lacey's spine and tugged her up tight against his hips. "Do you understand now that lovemaking, and all that goes with it, is nature's way and nothing to be afraid of?"
Blushing violently, her breath coming more rapidly than before, again she nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak.
"Good. Then maybe now you'll understand the need I was talking about before. I want you, Lacey." His voice dropped even lower, became guttural. "I want you badly." Hawke reached down to take her hand, then carefully placed her palm against his groin. His eyes closed, and a husky growl escaped his lips.
Lacey tried to pull away from him at first, but Hawke held her hand fast, insisting that she touch him and learn the depth of his terrible need. She allowed herself this, feeling the hardness of him through damp buckskin and the moist heat radiating through his trousers. Then, a surge of reckless desire driving her on, she allowed more, giving her fingers the freedom to travel along the entire length of that hardness. When she finally reached the tip, Lacey gasped and stepped out of Hawke's embrace.
"Oh, goodness, and by all that's holy. I don't think that I can accommodate you, sir." Lacey snuck a quick peek at what she'd felt, then rolled her eyes.
Chuckling softly, Hawke said, "We're made for each other, remember? A perfect fit."
"Aye, I remember what you said about the horses, but I think there must be something wrong with me, for I cannot imagine that I have the part you'd be needing to, to... " She waved her fingers in the general direction of his crotch. "To make this fit."
Laughing out loud now, Hawke took Lac
ey's hand in his. "Why don't we give it a try anyway, Mrs. Winterhawke? You might be pleasantly surprised."
'Tis on her own account the cat purrs.
—A common Irish saying
Chapter 13
The question he'd asked Lacey was purely rhetorical.
Hawke didn't even pretend to wait for his wife's reply. In spite of her insistence that their pairing could never work, he just swept her off her feet and carried her to a stall he'd filled with fresh bedding straw not more than an hour ago. He hadn't really planned on staying in the barn, but since a few doubts had already crept into Lacey's mind, Hawke was afraid she'd cool off by the time they made it to the house. As for those doubts, he suspected her protests were not protests at all, but pleas for him to reassure her that all would be fine.
Dropping to his knees, Hawke gently laid his wife down in the straw. He flipped his head, sending the long dark strands of his hair over his left shoulder, then lowered himself to her side. Lacey stiffened as he reached for her. "Relax, Irish," he whispered. "It's all right to be afraid of the unknown; that's nature's way of protecting you from harm, but please don't be afraid of me."
"I—I am trying to be brave, husband, but I honestly cannot see how this will work." It struck her that impossible as it seemed, she really did want this to work. She wanted Hawke.
"Tell you what," he murmured, scattering kisses across her cheeks and lips. "If I do anything you don't like, you tell me and I'll stop." At least, he was reasonably sure he could. "Fair enough?"
"Aye, 'tis more than fair." As she realized that she'd given him more than her trust—permission to proceed—the fire smoldering in Lacey's body flared, turning her cheeks bright enough to rival her hair. When Hawke reached for the buttons at the throat of her blouse and began to release them, she made no move to stop him, but squeezed her eyes shut.
