by Starla Kaye
He lifted the belt away. “Reckon so.” He put a hand to her lower back to keep her in position. “There’ll be no more of this jealous talk. It’s foolish talk.”
She tensed and knew that first sting was coming. “I’ll try.”
“You’ll try real hard.”
When the first lash landed, she shot up on her toes and hissed.
“Settle down, Angelina. I’m not going to do this for long, but you are going to suffer a mite.”
The belt landed again and again without him saying another word. He didn’t have to; she understood his frustration with her behavior toward Brandy…and toward him. She wriggled and danced on her toes, grunted at the pain. But she didn’t demand that he stop.
“You worried me, being gone so long. I shouldn’t have let you go to begin with.” He let her feel exactly how worried he’d been. The crack of the belt on her poor bottom echoed around the barn. But he held to his word. The thrashing only lasted a few minutes. She still would have difficulty sitting for supper tonight.
When he was satisfied, he slid the belt back on and let her stay in place to recover for a minute. Then he eased her drawers closed. “Pull your britches back up, Angelina.”
She took another few seconds before straightening. “Uhhh,” she groaned as the drawers rubbed against her burned bottom. She didn’t look forward to tugging her britches up. Still, she didn’t have another choice.
“Get ‘em up, darlin’,” he said huskily.
She almost told him to let her be, not to order her around. That would have been foolish. He’d probably have no problem pulling off that belt again or turning her over his knee for a spanking. She sure didn’t want either of those things to happen. So she pulled up her britches, grimacing as she did so.
As she faced him again, he was watching her, his eyes dark and heated. He looked like he wanted to hug her to him, but didn’t dare it. Oddly, she wasn’t so upset with him now.
He didn’t move closer, but he reached out to thumb a tear from her cheek. “Do we understand each other now?”
She nodded, didn’t think her words over, and said, “I’m still ready for Brandy to leave.”
He frowned and she quickly added, “I’ll speak kindly to her, though, for as long as she’s here.”
“It’s you I’m marrying, Angelina. You I want.”
She almost stepped closer, almost kissed him. But they heard horses riding into the ranch yard and she didn’t move.
Morgan sighed. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
Chase and Taos rode toward the barn. “You’d best go help clean those fish. I’ll see to your horses.”
Chapter Ten
Morgan took another lap around the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, stopping to scowl toward the hallway before he headed back toward the table. “I don’t like pouting. Not at all,” he grumbled, glancing at Chase and Taos who sat eating the breakfast that Manuel had quickly set out before fleeing from the kitchen after taking one look at him.
Both men nodded agreement but went right on shoveling eggs and ham into their mouths.
Tyler looked up from where he was more playing with his eggs than eating them. “You talking about Whiskey?” he asked cautiously. “Why’s she pouting? Did you talk mean about her animals again?” Now he sounded defensive about the woman he’d come to adore in his short time at the ranch.
He couldn’t tell his son that she was probably pouting about the brief thrashing he’d given her yesterday. That was a private matter, although both Taos and Chase knew that he and Whiskey had had a “discussion” of sorts before they’d returned last evening. He figured Brandy had sensed something unpleasant had gone on between them as well, but she’d not said a word. Whiskey had eaten her meal standing, making this and that excuse for not sitting down. Evidently Tyler hadn’t suspected that his father had taken his belt to her bottom. And he didn’t need to know that. It puzzled him, though, that she was keeping her distance from him this morning. He’d thought they’d sorted it all out, that she’d accepted the discipline.
“You’re too thin, son,” he finally said more harshly than he’d intended. “You need to eat.”
Brandy tilted her chin up in that same defensive way Whiskey did on occasion. “He’s a growing boy, stretching out. He eats just fine. He’ll bulk up like you and Chase eventually.”
Surprising everyone, Chase looked over at her and snapped, “Stay out of it, Ariana.”
She immediately pursed her lips in anger but held back a response in front of Tyler.
“Thought your name was Brandy?” Tyler questioned as he cocked his head to study her. He seemed to have completely missed the tension between them.
Morgan wasn’t certain what was going on with his brother or why he appeared so annoyed with Brandy, but he was glad the conversation had turned from Whiskey and his frustration with her.
He started to answer just as light footsteps walking into the room behind him drew his focus. Whiskey shot him an I’m-still-annoyed-with-you look, which he returned even if he was glad to see her again. He noted that she wore a skirt this morning, not a fancy day dress like her sister. Still, it caught him by surprise.
“That’s my sister’s legal name. Most people call her Brandy, though.” She walked over and sat next to Tyler and reached to gently ruffle his hair. “Just as I’m really Angelina but go by Whiskey.”
Tyler beamed at her, absorbing the easy loving she gave him. It made Morgan feel guilty once more for not having provided another mother for his son sometime in these last years after his mother had abandoned them and then died. But he had been so hurt by what she’d done. He just hadn’t wanted to take another chance with his heart, with his ego, or with his son. Until Whiskey. Damn but he loved this frustrating woman.
Just standing here looking at her now made him feel things he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He wanted to take that braid apart, thread his fingers through her long strands of silky auburn hair. He wanted to strip her out of that skirt and blouse and anything else she wore. He wanted…
His heart racing and his pants bulging with something he didn’t want to draw attention to, he set his coffee cup on the counter. Then he grabbed his hat from a peg and headed for the back door. “I’ll go feed your animals before—”
“I don’t need you to take care of my animals,” Whiskey protested.
Annoyed, he faced her and caught the amused looks on the other men’s faces. Brandy’s lips, too, were twitching in suppressed amusement. “Lord, but you’re a cantankerous woman. I was just offering to help.”
She shifted on her chair, clearly remembering what happened when they cross-threaded too much. She backed down. “Fine. Feed them. I want to stay here a while longer and talk with Brandy anyhow. There are some matters we need to get straight.”
“I thought we discussed one of those matters yesterday,” Morgan said and gave her a warning glance.
“It’s okay, Morgan,” Brandy interrupted. “My sister and I really do need to talk.”
The sisters were pulling together on this and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Fine. Just behave yourself, Angelina.”
Clearly deciding this was a good time to leave, Chase and Taos slid back their chairs. “Time to head on in to town,” Taos said. But he pinned his sisters with a telling look. “I better not see any black eyes or bruises when I see you two next. Keep it civil or…” He let his warning to both of them hang in the air.
In response they sent him identical glares.
Tyler, too, decided it was a good time to make an escape and got up to follow Chase. His brother, in turn, slid an arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go help your father with the mule and that crazy camel. I’m riding into town with Taos. Got some supplies to pick up.”
Whiskey watched Tyler hesitate and noted the brief flash of hurt in Morgan’s expression. Even if she was still kind of upset with him, she had to say something. “Your dad will need your help feeding my skunk. You know Morgan won’t go anywhere near yo
ur father, and he’ll be hungry this morning, too.”
Tyler bobbed his head, looking important now. Then he hurried out with his father.
Chase and Taos walked out of the house as well, which left Whiskey alone with her sister, a sister she still didn’t fully trust around Morgan.
As if Brandy understood her thoughts, she said, “You’re being a silly goose. That man is not the least bit interested in me.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, delicate, the kind of woman a man feels a need to take care of. Morgan’s a man who takes care of people, protects them. I’m not anything like you.” She really hated feeling inferior to her sister. He had hated it, too, enough to thrash her yesterday.
Brandy rolled her eyes. “You don’t really know me anymore. None of you do. I’m not some fragile little woman who needs a man to watch after her, like you all seem to think.” She snorted. “I’m really disgusted that you all feel that way.”
Whiskey shook her head. “Truth is, Brandy, you don’t look a damn bit different than when you left with Dad for England. Prim, proper, pretty. That sums you up.”
Again Brandy snorted. “This is all a show for me now, Whiskey. Just another show.”
Shifting gingerly on the chair, she studied Brandy, wondered about what she claimed. She started to question her when Brandy pointedly asked, “Does it still hurt so bad?”
Cheeks heating, she stood not at all interested in eating now and embarrassed as well. “You know?”
Brandy shrugged. “The marshal was pretty upset with you yesterday. He appears to me to be a man of action, more so than words.” She stood, too, and started carrying dishes to the sink. “So he spanked you, didn’t he? For acting crazy jealous.”
“More or less.” Whiskey moved to help clear the table. She remembered hearing the whisper of his belt being pulled free of his trousers. She recalled the feel of the straw under her palms as she leaned on the hay bale, almost felt the coolness of her bottom as he pulled her drawers apart. When she thought about that first awful lash, she forced the memory aside. “I wasn’t ‘crazy jealous.’”
One of Brandy’s slender eyebrows went up in disbelief. Then she stepped next to her and said sympathetically, “Men can be such trials to women sometimes. But this big, gruff marshal, this man of action, loves you. Anyone can see it whenever he looks at you.”
Did he really? She wanted to believe it, but their developing relationship hadn’t been easy…for either of them. She voiced her secret fear. “Maybe he’s just accepting the situation that our brothers forced him into.”
When Brandy would have interrupted, she added, “Oh, I know he’s lusting after me. I’ve seen that in his eyes, felt it in his kiss. He’s a man; they have needs. Or so I’ve heard Keno say.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” Brandy grinned. Her eyes danced with mischief. “He kissed you?”
Whiskey chose to ignore the prodding question. Instead she swept a hand up and down in front of her and then looked at her sister. “Look at me. Look at you. If a man truly had a choice, do you seriously think he’d choose me?”
Brandy blinked in obvious confusion. “We’re twins. We look identical except for our clothing and the way we wear our hair.”
Knowing it was foolish but unable to resist, she said in a rush, “I need to know for sure. Know if he actually wants me. Me. That he’s not just settling for me when he really wants you, now that you’re here and he’s seen you.”
“You’re not talking about—”
“Yes, yes I am.” She tugged Brandy out of the room. They had only done what she had in mind once before and it had definitely not worked out well for either of them. But she had to do this. She just had to.
* * *
Morgan looked uneasily back at the corral to where he’d left Tyler hand feeding that ridiculous skunk. The mule and the camel stood close by them, clearly content at all being together. The crazy animals seemed to like him as much as they did Whiskey. Still, he hadn’t wanted to leave Tyler alone with them but he’d needed to go have a word with Whiskey. He didn’t like her being upset with him and he still didn’t trust her with Brandy. This jealous reaction was nonsense. He didn’t like it at all. Maybe he should have given her more of a thrashing yesterday. Maybe he’d need to do it again today. He hoped not.
He listened for sounds of arguing, for sounds of two women fighting, which Taos had hinted at. He sure didn’t want to see that happen. But all he heard was a quiet conversation and the sound of water splashing. As he stepped into the kitchen he froze at the sight of the two sisters doing the dishes together. Both wore britches and tucked-in shirts. Both wore scuffed boots. Both had a long braid dangling down their backs.
They turned in his direction at the same moment and two sets of identical eyes looked at him in challenge. Two stubborn chins lifted. He knew without a doubt that this had been Whiskey’s idea, that she was testing him in some manner. And he didn’t like that notion.
They were identical in so many ways, but he knew exactly which of the two women was the one who owned his heart. He wasn’t of a mind to let them off easily, though. He could play this game as well, at least to a certain extent.
He walked straight to Brandy and pulled her into his arms. It didn’t feel right and he nearly stopped at her quiet gasp of surprise and at Whiskey’s quiet growl. But he was determined to teach them a lesson. So he planted his lips on Brandy’s and gave her a very short kiss. It just wasn’t the same as kissing Whiskey, no kick-him-in-the-gut feeling.
When he released Brandy, she slapped him. An instant later Whiskey slapped his other cheek.
He glowered at them both, although he didn’t mind their reactions. “I’m sorely tempted to turn you two over that table and burn your butts.”
Brandy’s shoulders stiffened and she moved out of his reach. “It was her idea,” she protested.
“One you went along with.” He didn’t like the way she’d thrown her sister to the big, bad wolf.
“I suppose, but she was very determined.”
Whiskey’s expression said silently that she’d love to throttle her traitorous sister. Then she looked at him and fire sparked in her green eyes. She stormed away and she sped out of the room. “I’m not marrying you! Not! Not! Not!”
He started after her, so mad he only saw red. The red Whiskey’s butt would soon be. He hadn’t taken two steps before Brandy latched onto his arm and stopped him. “Wait! You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.” He tried to shake her off.
Brandy beamed at him. “I told her you would. I told her you loved her, really loved her. Loved the impossible, trying woman she can be at times.”
He relaxed and heard Whiskey’s steps slowing down in the hallway. She was listening. “She makes it damn hard. I really should call this wedding off.”
He heard Whiskey’s sucked in breath and half-smiled. “Not doing it, though. She’s marching down that aisle to become my wife in seven days.”
Noting Brandy’s approving grin, he raised his voice a notch. “Hear that, Angelina Wakefield? Seven days.”
Just as he’d suspected she would, as he’d hoped she would, she snapped, “I’ll think about it. But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Fully smiling for the first that he could remember in a long while, he tipped his hat toward Brandy and moved to the back door. “I’m going to help the men round up some cattle that need branding. I’ll see you both at supper. And no more of this trying to trick me nonsense.”
* * *
Whiskey was restless the next morning, just as she’d been the night before. Neither her brothers nor Chase had returned from town, although they’d sent word back with one of the ranch’s hands that they’d decided to stay overnight in the rooms over the Dusty Trails. Morgan, too, had not returned from working with the cattle. He also had sent word back to her and Brandy. Knowing all of the men in her life were all right wasn’t enough to settle her nerves today.
“How about we go into town? I could use a new dress for your wedding,” Brandy said as she walked up next to the corral where she was watching Tyler brush down the mule.
“I’d like to go see Camelia, too,” she said, grabbing onto the excuse to get away from the empty-feeling ranch.
A couple of hours later Whiskey walked down the boardwalk and headed toward the Dusty Trails Saloon. Brandy was spending time with the dressmaker having a gown fitted. And she had visited a bit with Camelia, listened to the broken-hearted disappointment in her friend’s comments as she’d mentioned seeing Taos strolling arm-in-arm with a widow in the area, and decided she needed to have a word with her oldest brother. She’d left Tyler eating candy and drinking lemonade with Camelia at the general store. A quick check at Tao’s new law office found him not there. So she intended to try the saloon.
As she’d walked along she’d been stopped by what seemed like half the people in town, everyone eager to confirm that the wedding was still on in another six days. Even Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp had crossed the street to specifically come taunt her about getting married. Finally she was on her way again. She wanted to burn Taos’s ears about his not noticing that her dear friend was in love with him. What really irritated her was that she knew he also liked Camelia. He was just being an idiot for some reason.
She stopped on the boardwalk opposite Keno’s saloon to determine her best way to get through the light wagon and horse traffic. Suddenly a chill went up her spine. Like someone was watching her. The same feeling she’d had a couple of other times lately. She quickly looked behind her, and then around her. Just like the other times she didn’t spot anyone nearby who appeared to be paying her any particular attention.
Still she felt uneasy as she hurried across the dirt road. Her hand was on the batwing doors when she heard her brothers talking to Chase near the bar. Morgan’s name was mentioned and she froze.
“I stopped by the telegraph office a while ago,” Taos said, sounding concerned.
