Tanners' Angel

by Jenny Penn

  The barn might have been beyond big in his mind, but it was already packed to the brim. He just hoped they had enough stockpiled to see them through to spring if the passes really did close down for the winter before his brothers made it through.

  Every day he watched the horizon looking for any sign of his brothers or Richard or even Nate Willis. No movement, no flash of a mirror, nothing stared back at him. Not even now when his gaze glanced one last time in desperation at the rim of the pasture.

  Nothing looked back except the ever darkening skyline. It couldn’t be much past mid-day, but it might as well have been near night for as dark as it had gotten. Already, shadows grew long across the yard as the lanterns in the cabin windows glowed in the darkening gloom. The sight made him grimace.

  It hadn’t been cold enough yesterday to warn that today it would freeze, and he hadn’t tacked the furs up over the windows. No doubt the draft would have made Mary Anne stoke the fires to full blast, and she’d probably burn through twice as much wood as necessary.

  At least the cold kept his thoughts sharp and focused through the day. Trudging up toward the porch, Mike couldn’t help but tense in anticipation of what he’d walk in on when he entered the house unexpectedly. Of all the dire musings he entertained, Mike hadn’t been prepared to interrupt such a domestic scene.

  Mary Anne stood over the kitchen sink scrubbing out sheets from one deep basin to the other while his brother hunched over a bowl of soup watching her. A large plate of bread chunks lay before him, and Malcolm held one dripping hunk in midair while he paused to nod a greeting to Mike before biting down.

  “Malcolm.” Mike snapped the back door closed as he gazed across at his brother. He might have doubted the satisfied look in Mary Anne’s eyes these past few days, but he knew it well in his younger brother to understand what it meant.

  “Hey, Mike.” Malcolm definitely gloated.

  “Mr. Tanner,” Mary Anne distracted him. Turning on him as she wiped her hands on a towel, she looked as innocent and unaware as usual. “I was getting worried about you out there in that cold. You’re going to catch your death in that snow.”

  Mary Anne might have only come up to his shoulders, but she didn’t hesitate to force him around to yank off his coat. “You need to get out of these wet clothes and warm yourself up with a bowl of soup by the fire.”

  Mike shrugged his shoulders and let his wool lined coat slide into her hands, but he didn’t make any move toward the fire or the soup. Instead, he trained his eyes on Malcolm. The smug little bastard sat there smirking.

  “So.” He started to step forward only to be stopped by Mary Anne.

  “Now don’t you go tracking mud and dirt across my floor, Mr. Tanner.”

  Mike growled at the way she insisted on using his proper title. He might have been the one to remind her of the formal nature their relationship must take, but she used it with a slight tint of humor, as if she knew it irritated him.

  “If you don’t mind, Mary Anne, I would like to speak to my brother.”

  “You will take your boots off first.” She all but shoved him down on the bench. “Then you will remember how lucky you are that your brother survived his bullet wound and be grateful that his fever broke last night. I will not have you picking on him in his frail condition. Do you understand me?”

  With hands on hips, she bossed him around like she was his mother, and all the while he could see Malcolm grinning a little too wide behind her. Delicate condition his ass. That boy hadn’t been sick for the past few days, he’d been up to no good. As his older brother, it was Mike’s obligation to pound him into the ground for his misdeeds.

  There was no way Mary Anne would let him do that, and there were even less ways of getting away from her with the storm trapping them all in the small house.

  Besides, Mike told himself, he wanted to catch that smug bastard red-handed. Then there wouldn’t be a damn thing Mary Anne could say or do that would stop Mike from doling out justice.

  “Fine.” Mike caved, knowing Mary Anne wouldn’t back down. “I’ll be nice.” Even as he said it, he reached for his boots. His eyes traveled down her length, going wide as they came to a sudden stop before ratcheting back up to meet hers. The blush was already in her cheeks. She knew what he saw.

  “Where are your petticoats?”

  Mary Anne backed away from him as she shrugged. “I ripped them when I was doing the wash, which I have to get back to. Excuse me.”

  That hadn’t been subtle, and Mike knew the answer in that instant. Cutting his glance to his brother, he conveyed as much of an accusation through his stare as he could. All he got back was a quick shrug and another maddening smirk.

  “Don’t you have another pair?” Mike demanded of Mary Anne’s back.

  “They got torn the last time I did the wash.”

  She said it so fast he almost didn’t catch the words. As they began to filter through his head, every muscle tightened with the need to do something, anything, about this indecency. She couldn’t stand there without any undergarments on. He couldn’t take it. Knowing how easily accessible every sweet delight of her body was would drive him insane. Hell, even now his eyes couldn’t seem to blink from the way the folds of her skirt flowed over the smooth, rounded hump of her ass, highlighting it in perfect detail.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he forced his mind and his eyes to focus on pulling off his boots. With no worry of tracking dirt in his stocking feet, Mike rose to finally confront his brother. Strutting right up to the table, he sat down across from Malcolm.

  “You feeling better, huh?”

  “It’s a miracle,” Malcolm retorted before biting into another piece of soup-soaked bread.

  Mike grunted at that and reached across to pull Malcolm’s bowl away from him. Dragging it across the table, Mike settled the savory smelling bowl in front of himself.

  “Hey.” Malcolm glared at him before hollering to Mary Anne. “He stole my soup.”

  “Mr. Tanner,” Mary Anne snapped instantly with that mother tone again.

  “You told me to warm up with a bowl,” Mike tossed back. “You don’t want me to get sick now, do you?”

  “I’ll get you your own bowl.” Mary Anne huffed as she started to do just that. “Now give your little brother back his lunch.”

  “Thank you very much.” Malcolm jerked the bowl back.

  “And don’t antagonize your older brother,” Mary Anne snapped.

  “Bossy, isn’t she?” Malcolm snorted a second before a bowl banged down on the table in front of Mike.

  “I wouldn’t have to be if you two would behave like grown men,” Mary Anne answered tartly.

  Mike couldn’t help it. He shared a grin with his brother, instinctively joining him in watching that sassy ass sway back toward the sink. Then he remembered himself, and his eyes snapped back toward Malcolm. Too late, his younger brother caught him ogling Mary Anne.

  “So,” Mike grunted. “How long you been recovered?”

  “I found him all anxious to get out of bed this morning,” Mary Anne answered for Malcolm again.

  That habit really began to annoy Mike. He knew something was going on between the two. The confirmation lingered behind Malcolm’s smug smile. It just made Mike itch to pop him one, but Mary Anne kept cutting him off at the pass.

  “Really?” Mike raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, silently daring his brother to just say it.

  “Yes, sir.” Mary Anne answered from the sink. “He was alert when I went in there and insisted on getting out of that bed.”

  “I even had my breakfast on the dining room table.”

  “Yes,” Mary Anne agreed too quickly. “He even drew himself his own bath afterward.”

  “In all that activity, you couldn’t find the energy to tack up the furs over the windows?” Mike asked, interrupting whatever game they were playing with each other. It annoyed him because he was almost certain he knew what they were referring to. His breakfast on the table, that hadn’t bee
n subtle at all. Damn, but Mike was jealous. All he’d gotten was a little whiskey in his coffee.

  “Your brother is in no condition to perform chores.” Mary Anne went back to answering for Malcolm. “He needs to rest and relax. You wouldn’t want him to have a relapse, would you?”

  “Don’t you understand I need a lot of bed rest to recover?”

  “Then maybe you should go lie down,” Mike snapped, “because you don’t look anything but healthy to me.”

  “Do I have to tell you not to pick on your brother again?” Mary Anne demanded, this time from right beside him. He watched as she lowered a pumpkin pie down onto the table. His mouth began to water. Not from the sight of another delicious dessert but from the soft ass bent over not inches from his arm. How easy would it be to reach out and slide his hand up under the skirt and discover just how soft and wet Mary Anne could get?

  She straightened, turning right before his eyes. Her thigh cut into the skirt, and for one beautiful, perfect second he could clearly see the soft, rounded gateway her thighs made to the tight little V between them. Instantly, his imagination erased the skirt, and he could almost picture perfectly how smooth her skin looked and how tempting the little brown curls covering her mound would be.

  With a muttered curse, he shoved away from the table and went storming down the hall.

  * * * *

  The minute Mike’s back turned into one of the bedrooms, Mary Ann turned with a snarl on Malcolm. “You promised me you’d behave.”

  “What?” Malcolm whispered back. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re grinning like the cat that ate the rat.”

  “I did and trust me,” Malcolm’s eyes dropped pointedly downward, “I’m going to be taking another nibble real soon. So I don’t see much of the point in this game.”

  “You promised me,” Mary Anne repeated as she plunked a bowl of water down. Gathering up the squash she collected from the ragged ruins of what the brothers must have tried to make into a garden, she settled down at the table. They could both hear Mike grunting and cursing as thumps emitted from the bedroom.

  “I did, and I’ll keep my word, but you got to stop jumping all over Mike’s questions.” Malcolm picked up one of the long, slender squash and studied it. “You’re giving the whole game away.”

  “Oh, shush.” Mary Anne slapped a knife down beside him. “Help me cut these up.”

  “Are they even edible?” Malcolm studied the pathetic fruit in his hand. “They look a little sickly.”

  “Well, they ain’t that meaty.” Mary Anne picked up her own knife and began chopping up the squash. “Next spring I’ll fix that garden up proper, but it’s just too late in the year to save it now, so we’re going to have to make do with what it’s got to give us.”

  “No offence, angel, you cook like a dream, but I don’t really want to eat this.”

  “Stop complaining and start cutting.” Malcolm didn’t obey, but started making faces while rooting through the squash. “What are you doing? Because it’s not helping.”

  His gaze snapped up to her and in an instant that smile she already learned meant trouble spreading across his face. “That one’s going to cost you, angel, but you can collect later. Right now I think I am feeling a little tired. I’m going to go stretch out.”

  Mary Anne didn’t believe him for a moment. Malcolm just had an aversion to what he thought of as woman’s work. She’d taken him to task for that attitude more than once, but that afternoon she let him get away with it. Not about to pick a fight in front of Mike who had returned, dragging an old footlocker in his wake.

  Mike commanded her attention in that moment. He shoved the locker right alongside the table and threw open the lid to reveal the feminine clothes inside. “These were our sister’s. They got brought out here by accident, but maybe you can find some proper undergarments and put them on.”

  Mary Anne sighed and put down the squash. “I take it you don’t think it would be proper for me to sit here cutting squash until I’m fully clothed.”

  “No, Mrs. Winters, I don’t. I don’t even think it’s proper that you would need to ask that question. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to tack up the furs.” With that, he turned on his heel and stormed back to the bedroom he dragged the trunk out of. Eyeing the trunk he left, she shoved out of her seat.

  There did seem to be a lot of nice things in it. The type of clothing she used to own, used to wear, and had no business being worn in the wilderness. Not unless a woman had a safe cabin and two men to admire the effect. Mary Anne smiled as she began to sort through the few dresses with their low cut necklines and lacy corsets with their hooks for stockings.

  None of the garments would survive Malcolm’s rough handling, but the very idea of how they’d tempt him even more into ripping her clothes off made Mary Anne hum with warmth. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mike shared Malcolm’s tendency to keep his woman as naked as he could.

  Keenly aware of Mike coming back into the room in a huff, she couldn’t help but notice his irritation. With a slap, he dropped a pile of furs on the table. With a crack, he slammed the footstool down on the floor. A second later, he was pounding out all his obvious frustration on a nail as he drove it through one of the fur and into the sill over the window.

  Scowling at his grumpy back, Mary Anne decided to ignore his attitude and focus on the gifts he gave her. Pulling one gown out, she held it up to her body. Doing a twirl, she admired the way it flowed. Thinking how pretty it would look if she’d ever get the opportunity to dance again, she repeated the performance with another dress and then the next until she ran through them all.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Pow.

  Mike missed his first nail as she pulled a black corset with red threads out of the heap. She never owned one so obviously meant to tease a man. Malcolm would definitely shred it if he could fit his fingers in anywhere to get a hold. Placing it right up against her front, she cupped the garment to her breast to see how tight it fit.

  Bang. Bang. Thud.

  “Shit!”

  Mary Anne dropped the corset and went running toward where Mike fell off the stool and crashed onto the floor. She heard Malcolm’s door wrenching open and his footsteps coming up behind her.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

  “Your brother fell.” Mary Anne went to her knees, already beginning to check for broken bones just as her brother taught her.

  “Don’t touch me,” Mike snapped, scrambling to his feet as he held his thumb. He turned immediately on his brother. “Drag that damn locker into her bedroom, and you,” he turned back on her, “try to behave with a little more decorum.”

  Those orders issued, he stormed right out the front door and into the storm without even a jacket on. Mary Anne met Malcolm’s raised brow with an innocent smile.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Angel, why do you even try to lie?” Malcolm shook his head. “You know I’m in full support of tormenting my older brother, don’t you?”

  “Be nice to your brother,” Mary Anne shot back. She would not let Malcolm use her against Mike anymore than she would let Mike bully his younger brother.

  “Why?” Malcolm snorted. “You’re not.”

  Mary Anne’s eyes narrowed on him. She never expected to cause Mike injury with her little tease and certainly felt bad about it. To Malcolm, all she said was, “You ready to help me cut up the squashes now?”

  Just as she expected, Malcolm ducked the question. “I got a trunk to move, angel. I ain’t got time to stand here talking to a woman who isn’t even dressed decently.”

  Chapter 10

  Mike settled down into the pillow of the bench, following his normal routine. He wasted most of the day and almost half the evening hiding out in the barn. Returning to find Mary Anne more decently dressed and furs tacked up, he let both Malcolm and Mary Anne go along with thinking he wore himself to the bone again.

  Mary A
nne fussed over him for doing too much in one day, especially such a cold one. Mike enjoyed the attention even more tonight because he could tell it irked Malcolm to be ignored. He played it up a little heavier just to needle him.

  By the time they settled down around the main fireplace for the end of the evening story time, Mike really started to enjoy himself. As Mary Anne carried a tray full of cups and a large steaming tea pot, he couldn’t help but notice that Malcolm carried the whiskey bottle.

  “You sure you should be drinking that given your delicate condition?” Mike nodded at the bottle.

  “Not the whole bottle, but I’m sure Mrs. Winters would agree that a few sips might help me sleep a little better tonight.”

  A hidden message lay buried in the sharp point of those words. Mike might not have gotten it, but Mary Anne stiffened up. “I don’t see where it would do any harm. Alcohol kills infections.”

  “When you pour it on them, Mary Anne, not when you drink it.” Mike couldn’t help but to correct her.

  “Don’t smart me. I got your brother back to the state of health he’s in now, didn’t I? Yes,” Mary Anne answered her own question, “I did, so don’t you start arguing with me now. Alcohol kills all infections, the ones on the inside, too.” Mike caught Malcolm’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “And don’t roll your eyes at me,” Mary Anne snapped, making both Mike and Malcolm smirk.

  Malcolm had it right. Mary Anne was bossy. All prissy and full of attitude, she could flex her claws all she wanted. At the end of the day, everybody knew the ninety pound dog could eat the nine pound cat any time it wanted.

  First, though, the cat had to be led into the trap, so Mike relaxed back and took his first fake sip of tea. That appeared to appease Mary Anne, who picked up the book she’d been reading from for the past few nights and began again.

  She had such a soft, lyrical voice and read with such a steady rhythm, Mike found himself relaxing to the point where he almost felt boneless. It was hard to remain tense and not give in to the slumber that her voice lulled him toward.