A Very Lusty Christmas [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Nerves abated and Kate nodded slightly, enough to let Sarah know she would stay and hold her ground. Or in this case, her dinner plate.

  “See, what did I tell you? When there are that many cars parked at the Big House, it can only mean a family dinner is underway!”

  Patrick’s voice preceded his appearance at the door to the dining room. Full of fun and teasing, it washed over Sarah. Had it really been nearly a month since she’d met—since she’d beenkissed—bythis man?

  It felt like only moments ago.

  “You didn’t have to tell me, I smelled the aroma of Mother’s roast—”

  Kate kept her gaze on her plate for just a few seconds more before looking up to encounter two sets of avid male stares. She’d felt them both enter the room, and had to fight her grin when Gerald stopped midsentence. They’d both spotted her, and it pleased her that just that simply she had, as Sarah had suggested, “knocked them off their pins.”

  Into the silence, she said, “Good evening, Major Benedict. And to you, too, Major Benedict.” Fighting the urge to laugh at their goggle-eyed reactions, she returned her attention to her meal.

  “Good God, Charlie, I do believe the rest of us have suddenly turned invisible.” Samuel’s voice sounded full of amusement.

  That seemed to snap the men back to the moment.

  “We beg your pardon.” Patrick was swift to grin. “Good evening,MajorWesley.” He headed toward his mother first, and the fact that woman was sitting on the other side of her gave Kate pause. But as he and Gerald kissed their mother, they did so on her right side, so they could greet their father, Charles, too.

  “Bring over the extra chairs, and sit beside your grandmothers. I’ll get you each a plate.” Mattie winked at Kate, and excused herself from the table, apparently to do just that.

  “Roast beef for dinner and then afterward, the most luscious dessert in the world.” Gerald’s voice felt like a velvet caress along her skin and it was all Kate could do not to shiver.

  Shocked that he would say such a risqué thing in front of his family, Kate jerked her head up and met his gaze.

  His serious regard held just a shade of the devil, and Kate realized that she’d risen to the bait.

  “Yes,” Patrick agreed. “There’s nothing in this world better than Grandmother’s pecan pie.”

  Trouble. These two are going to be nothing but trouble. That wasn’t the first time Kate had entertained that thought.

  It was, however, the first time that thought made her feel aroused and eager to see what kind of trouble might happen next.

  * * * *

  Hell has a new definition. It’s sitting across the table from Kate and not being able to touch her or kiss her.

  Gerald let that thought take up residence in his brain and simmer, even as he made polite conversation with the table at large.

  Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know why he’d been so shocked to come in and see Kate seated with his family, enjoying dinner.

  Of course she would have been invited, just as she likely had met most everyone that was important to him and Patrick by now.

  He was delighted his family had taken her under their wing. He guessed he was just having a hard time with the concept because when he thought of Kate, when he looked at her, he wanted nothing more than to be balls deep inside of her while she sucked his brother’s cock.

  And vice versa.

  “So how are things going so far, or can you say?” Charles asked.

  Sitting between his grandmother and his father, Samuel, he had no trouble making eye contact with that particular father. Of course, he didn’t really want to look at his father. He wanted to look across the table at Kate. He consoled himself that at least hecouldlook at her. Poor Patrick, sitting between Uncle Jeremy and Grandmother Amanda, couldn’t see their woman without making an obvious show of doing so.

  “There’s no lack of enthusiasm in the young men who’ve signed up for training, that’s for sure,” Gerald said. “It’s just unfortunate that enthusiasm doesn’t always equal ability.”

  “I suppose there’s not much time for someone to work at it, get better,” Jeremy said.

  “Nine weeks,” Patrick said. He looked around the table and Gerald had to bite back his smile. His brother had found a way to lay eyes on their woman.

  “The first few days we were there, we spent just teaching the lads a bit of the theory of pursuit flying, and then acquainting them with the Valiant. Most of them had never even seen that airplane up close before.”

  “I was surprised when you called this morning and said you’d be home for dinner tonight. I thought we wouldn’t get to see much of you at all.” Grandmother Sarah’s voice, for all its softness, could pin his attention—or his ears, depending.

  He didn’t have to wonder if he heard an edge of censure in her tone. She’d likely figured out that he and Patrick had pulled strings to get themselves this weekend off. They’d have to be back at the airfield by nine Sunday evening.

  They’d been raised to not put on airs. While the Rockefellers and the Astors and the Morgans could be read about in the papers, their photos taken in New York or the Hamptons, Benedicts, Kendalls, and Jessops were encouraged to work hard and live humbly, if well.

  In other words, pulling strings was highly discouraged, except in the most urgent of circumstances.

  Both he and his brother had considered it pretty damn urgent that they see Kate, if only for a few hours.

  “There will be weeks on end when we won’t have any leave at all, Grandmother. The airfield commander suggested we take the time while we could.” He didn’t know if he’d convinced his Grandmother Sarah or not. He thought he caught the corner of a smile on her face, but he wasn’t certain.

  Gerald decided to pretend that everything was fine between himself and his grandmother. He turned his attention to Kate. “How are you adjusting to life in Lusty, Major Wesley?”

  “Very well, thank you, Major Benedict. I find your town to be extremely…friendly.”

  The little minx. She said that with just enough pause to let him know his family had been telling tales—likely on him and Patrick. More likely the women had decided to champion her.

  He shot a quick glance at his brother and knew he’d caught on to her teasing tone as well.

  He met Kate’s gaze and held it. “Tell me, Major, do you like to…ride?” He had to give Kate credit. Her cheeks may have turned a delightful shade of pink, but she didn’t avert her gaze, neither did she demur.

  “I’ve been known to,” she said. “When the mount has proven to be sound, and trustworthy, and the trail interesting.”

  “In that case, Major, we’ll do our best to see to it you aren’t disappointed.”

  “I would certainly appreciate that. If one is going to take the time to indulge in an activity, it ought to be well done.”

  Kate’s eyes sparkled with humor, and Gerald mentally added “quick-witted” to the list of qualities he found attractive in his Kate. And he wondered how long he’d have to wait before he could taste her again.

  Chapter 6

  Kate didn’t realize how badly she’d missed this—not until she stepped into the saddle barn early Saturday morning and breathed in the aroma of hay and horses.

  The soft huffing and whinnies of the animals combined with the smell of hay took her back to happier days. How she’d cherished those times she’d go to her Uncle Donald’s farm outside Roanoke. She’d loved riding, especially when her father would accompany her.

  Why did I let myself forget this part of me?Kate had been utterly focused, these last few years, on being the best nurse she could be. Then, when she’d joined the army, she’d worked even harder at the task. She’d dedicated herself, not so much to her career but to the young soldiers, sailors, and airmen under her care.

  She was ashamed to say that up until very recently, her attitude had been somewhat rigid. Fun and recreation often got lost in wartime, as truly was fitting for the ti
mes. There was no room for selfishness in these most perilous of days. Everyone had a job to do. Everyone had to work together and give their best if this war was to be won.

  And yet, since coming to Lusty and meeting so many people who not only worked hard but laughed hard, Kate began to question how she’d lived her life for the last year and a half.

  Thinking about it now, she realized that her inner thoughts very much sounded like her mother’s voice. How had she let herself buy into her very dour perspective of life? A person could have a good time, and still give their best, and do their best.

  Movement caught her attention, and she turned to watch as Charles Benedict ambled toward her. She knew it was him, because she’d just spoken to Samuel up at the house.

  He carried halters and bridles in his hands, and nodded as he neared.

  “The boys haven’t stood you up, Kate. I sent them out to bring in a couple of cows that may or may not have wandered off.” He grinned at her, and Kate couldn’t help but return his smile. “They haven’t spent much time doing ranch work over the last few years, and I think they’ve gotten entirely too comfortable having folks salute them.” He nodded once, as if to underscore his words. “We don’t want them to forget where they’ve come from.”

  “I don’t think there’s much danger of that happening.” Her attention was drawn to a beautiful brown horse with intelligent eyes and an apparent interest in their conversation. When Charles turned to see what she was looking at, the horse moved its head up and down.

  “That’s Coco. She’s not named for her color, but because Mother said she was a real coquette around the men in the family.”

  Kate laughed, but couldn’t resist approaching the animal. “She’s beautiful. Is she a Morgan horse?”

  “You’ve a good eye. Yes, she is. One of three we have here. The rest are more properly called quarter horses, though most have some Morgan blood in them.”

  “My uncle Donald has a horse farm in Virginia. He keeps Morgans for work and riding, although my aunt Angela likes her Arabian for recreation.”

  “Breeds racers, does he?”

  “For the most part, yes. He does a good business selling his animals in Europe, although not quite so much over the last couple of years.”

  “I imagine not.”

  Kate reached out to stroke the horse’s neck. As deep and rich looking as the best cocoa, with her mane and tail darker, almost black, the colors contrasted so that her coat nearly gleamed.

  “Oh, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” The animal felt warm under her touch, and Kate continued to stroke her gently.

  “She likes you,” Charles said.

  It didn’t sound as if the man had changed position at all, and Kate knew he held back, likely because the horse would lose all interest in her if he approached.

  “It must be a relief to you to have two of your sons home from over there.” She kept her words in the same conversational tone as she’d been using, and she wondered if the man would respond.

  Sarah had told her that both Charles and Sam had gone to Europe during the last war. Kate wasn’t a trained psychologist, neither had she been a nurse for decades, as some of the women she’d worked with had been. But serving in wartime seemed to speed up the process of learning. What she might call “on-the-job training” came at a faster pace than she’d imagined it would.

  She’d watched as visitors would spend time with the men under her care, men who had been wounded more than just physically.

  We women have an advantage over the men. We can cry. And she’d seen the power of that wonder as mothers, wives, and girlfriends would break down in abject misery. Tears cleansed and, Kate thought, they strengthened.

  But how did fathers cope? Society charged the fathers with the safety of the family. How did fathers handle the reality of their sons being in harm’s way?

  “Christ, I never wanted any of my boys to know that. To know the horror of war.” Charles came over and stood against the corral beside her. “My fathers both said that to Sam and me when we came back from the trenches. I remember the looks in their eyes at the time.” He met Kate’s gaze. “They’d been Union soldiers, both of them, choosing to fight for the North in what many around here still refer to as the War of Northern Aggression.”

  “They served where their conscience led them,” Kate said.

  “And lost their own family ranch because they did,” Charles said. “I never fully understood that look on their faces until Gerald and Patrick told us they were going over to England to volunteer for the RAF.”

  Kate didn’t know if she had words to give him, or even if it was words that he needed or wanted from her. But she said, “So you sent them out to reconnect with their heritage, and the land.”

  “And perhaps to frustrate them, just a little, since they were waiting so eagerly for you to arrive this morning.”

  Kate laughed. She couldn’t help it. There was a sublime balance in this family—in all the families, in fact, in Lusty—a balance she thought the rest of the world would be fortunate to find.

  She’d heard the women of the family talk a fair bit about the men, and which of their fathers they resembled most. But in that moment Kate knew Charles Benedict had a fair bit of his mother, Sarah, in him, too.

  “So tell me, Mr. Benedict, are the boys going to find those cows you sent them after?”

  “Call me Charles, please. And to answer your question—probably not.” He laughed, and Kate could see where Patrick got his “charming” side from.

  “Perhaps, then, you could help me saddle up and point me in the right direction. I think it’s time for me to go and findthem.”

  Charles nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  Kate grinned. “I’m sure.”

  Coco took that moment to nudge her shoulder with her head. Despite what she’d just said, she didn’t know if she wasreallysure, or not.

  But she thought perhaps it was time for her to find out.

  * * * *

  Gerald had been furious with his father. But that hadn’t stopped him from saying, “Yes, sir,” mounting up, and heading toward their old campsite on a search for wayward bovines.

  His usually even-tempered brother had felt the same way if the tension he could see in Patrick’s jaw was any indication.

  At first he’d just wanted to find the bloody cows and get back to Kate as quickly as possible. It hit him, then, that his mind had supplied the expletivebloodyinstead ofdamned.

  He pulled up on the reins and sat still, his ears attuned to his surroundings, his eyes taking in the slightly rolling landscape, the scattered trees—this sight one he’d enjoyed since the first time his grandfathers had taken him on a campout when he’d not even been old enough to sit his own pony.

  “Hell, I missed this.” Patrick stopped his own horse beside him.

  Gerald nodded. “Me, too. You have to wonder at the old man’s smarts, don’t you?”

  “To know we needed to do this, just the two of us?”

  Gerald sighed, then turned his gaze to his brother. “I hadn’t understood how edgy I was until just now.”

  Patrick nodded toward an oak tree that, when he’d been younger, had seemed as if it reached to the heavens, the branches extended like arms in supplication.

  “Damn near broke my fool neck the day I tried to climb up and see into that nest that was up near the top. Do you remember?”

  Gerald laughed. “I remember how alarmed the dads were when you fell and started bawling—and now I understand their worry wasn’tjustfor your well-being.”

  Patrick grinned. “Mother likely would have been beside herself if she knew half the things the dads and granddads let us do. She’d have chased them out the house with a broom. Or granddad’s shotgun, whichever was in closer reach.”

  “A boy’s got to have room to grow into a man,” Gerald said. That had been one of Caleb Benedict’s favorite sayings—at least around his grandsons.

  Joshua would just nod and say, “
Damn straight.” And then he’d wink at whichever one of them—him or Patrick—Caleb had been talking about.

  “I want to head over toward the stream.” Patrick didn’t wait, just angled his horse and put his heels into the animal’s sides.

  Gerald followed, knowing what it was Patrick wanted to see. Every new season would find the Benedict men out here, camping. Sometimes there’d be Jessops and Kendalls with them, and sometimes not.

  But at the beginning of each season, they’d come. They’d fish, and drink—when they’d come of age, of course, the boys would assure their mother, and not before—and they’d listen to the dads and the uncles and the granddads tell tales of what it was like growing up in a different time, of keeping company with men like Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp, and of derring-do.

  Each season they’d come, lay their fire in the same spot, spread out their bedrolls, and fall sleep under the open sky to the sound of the stream flowing close by.

  The grass in their favorite spot was no longer depressed from bedrolls, but the fire ring appeared intact, and the ground within the rocks remained barren of new growth. To all appearances, this spot had hosted a fire in the spring or early summer.

  “I wondered if they’d come out here without us. I’m glad they did.” Patrick dismounted, dropping the reins of his horse to the ground. “I’m glad they did because sometimes, late at night, when sleep wouldn’t come, it helped to imagine them here, doing what they’d always done, what we’d always done, together.”

  The roan gelding Patrick had ridden stayed close, nosing out grass to nibble, trained not to just take off and strand his rider.

  Gerald crossed his right arm over his left, and leaned forward in the saddle. “I have to agree with you, on both counts. I want us to bring Kate out here. We can’t really woo her the way we’d like, because duty calls. Hell, maybe we were being completely thoughtless to arrange for her to come to Lusty when we can’t even promise her more than a few stolen moments here and there.”

  “She seemed completely comfortable in the Big House last night.” Patrick looked up at him. And then his gaze seemed caught by something behind him.