Brides of the West

by Michele Ann Young

  “Shall I stop?”

  The look in her eyes softened as she relaxed around his fingers. “No.”

  “Good,” he whispered, still confused by her reaction to his intimate touch. She sucked in a breath as he pressed deeper, then she began to undulate her hips to his own sweet, slow rhythm. He increased the tempo and she rode his hand, bucking against him as if trying to get closer to him. He smiled, pleased he could still elicit such a response from her.

  He rose up over her, quickly insinuating his legs between hers. His manhood was thick, erect, aching for release. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and he feared he wouldn’t last. She gazed up into his eyes and an emotion he couldn’t discern crossed her face as he pressed into her. She stiffened as he settled his entire length within, then she began to move her hips to the slow rhythm he set. Whispering a curse, he stilled, squeezed his eyes shut and savored the feel of her hot sheathe as it contracted around his him.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered, then opened his eyes to look at her. “I’ll take my release if you do.”

  She smoothed her warm palms over his shoulders. “It’s all right, Wolf.”

  He gave a half laugh. “No, it is not all right. You haven’t received any pleasure yet.”

  Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he willed his body to slow down. He withdrew almost completely, thrust slow and deep into her silken wetness, pleasuring her with long deliberate strokes. Her legs snaked around his waist, her ankles locking behind his hips, holding him captive. He watched her eyes flutter shut, felt her muscles constrict around him as his own body hurtled toward release. A sob escaped her lips as he exploded in a soul-wrenching climax.

  A moment later, he moved off her and lay beside her, his heart pounding. The only sound in the wagon was their harsh breathing. It felt almost like old times, their lovemaking as passionate as it had once been. A few minutes later she sat up and brushed the hair from her face, then drew a blanket over herself.

  He stroked his fingertips lazily up and down her arm. “Why do you cover yourself?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose it seemed the proper thing to do.”

  He watched her gather her clothing and undergarments. She had changed from the uninhibited young woman he’d fallen in love with years ago. What had happened to quell her passion?

  “We’re married. There is no need to be ashamed.”

  She nodded. “You’re right.”

  He continued to stroke her arm. “You are still as beautiful and fiery as that young filly I once knew.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I’m not. My waist is thicker, my breasts not as firm as when I was young.” Absently, she shook out a petticoat. “Perhaps we should dress.”

  “What’s your rush?” He lifted the garment from her hand and tossed it aside.

  Her gaze caught his. “Mac is alone. He needs me.”

  “Mac is old enough to look out for himself for an hour or so, Evangeline. You must stop coddling him.”

  A noise of protest passed her lips. “I do not coddle him.”

  “The hell you don’t. You’re always at his side overseeing his every move.” He snorted. “I’m surprised the boy can use the privy without you holding his hand.”

  She gaped at him, her eyes turning to narrow slits. “How dare you.”

  Wolf gritted his teeth, instantly regretting his words. Perhaps he’d been too harsh, but she was overly protective of the boy. “I apologize for that remark. You are a caring mother.” He sat up and brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her there. “Do not be angry with me.”

  She inclined her face to his and their lips brushed. “Oh, Wolf, let’s not argue.” She reached up and traced the scar on his throat with her fingertips before leaning forward to press her lips to it.

  “I cannot imagine the pain you must have suffered,” she whispered against his skin.

  No, she could not possibly know how he’d suffered. Wolf choked back tears as his throat constricted. “Do not think about it now. He pressed her down to the feather tick again, drew her nipple into his mouth, and plucked it into a stiff peak. Reaching down, he parted the soft blonde curls and teased the little pearl of her femininity with his fingertip. She panted.

  “I want you again, Evangeline.”

  “I want you again, too.”

  Moving over her again, he nudged her thigh with his growing erection. “Let me make it better this time.”

  There were no more words between them. Wolf possessed her body with a fierceness that shocked him. Hot skin melted against skin as they clawed toward mutual release. His dark hands moved over her pale body, rediscovering every silken inch of her. Still, it wasn’t enough.

  Wanting to watch her, he rolled onto his back and lifted her over him. She slid down the steely length of him, rode him, her glorious golden hair spilling across her full breasts, her head thrown back in wanton ecstasy. He grasped her hips to still her when he came, then opened his eyes to watch her beautiful face by candlelight as she drifted down from passion’s storm.

  When Wolf left the wagon half an hour later, his body temporarily sated, heaviness still weighed on his heart. She’d wanted him to claim her as his wife, but this interlude—no matter how passionate—changed nothing other than to officially seal their marriage vows. Now she couldn’t leave him without obtaining a divorce. He prayed she wouldn’t choose to do so.

  ***

  “Come see the fire!” Mac cried when Wolf approached. “I did it! I really did it!”

  Wolf surveyed the fire. “You sure did, Mac. Now let’s see if we can wrangle up some biscuits.”

  “My ma makes the best biscuits,” Mac offered. “Hey, why were you gone so long? Isn’t my mother gonna make us breakfast?”

  Wolf cleared his throat. He figured Evangeline wasn’t in much shape at the moment to be doing chores. “Your mother is resting. Why don’t we surprise her and make breakfast ourselves?”

  The lad nodded. “She’d like that.”

  Wolf brought the bowls, flour, salt and a tin of canned milk. Mac stirred the ingredients together and mixed the sticky dough with floured fingers while Wolf poked about in the chuck box for his favorite Dutch oven. He showed Mac how to set the three-legged pot into the glowing coals, then scoop a few on top of the lid to create an oven effect. Afterward, he set a grate atop the fire and put a pot of coffee on.

  Evangeline emerged from the wagon, her cheeks tinged bright pink, a faint bruise on the side of her throat, evidence of his impassioned kisses.

  Wolf grew hard again as he recalled their lovemaking only a few minutes before. He fantasized about taking her to the river and having her again tonight.

  “I see you two have already started breakfast.” Avoiding Wolf’s eyes, she ruffled Mac’s hair, giving him a loving squeeze. “Did you build the fire by yourself, sweetheart?”

  Mac smiled up at her. “Naw, mister...I mean, Pa showed me how to do it.”

  Her eyes caught Wolf’s. “Pa?”

  Wolf shifted from his spot on the ground. “Mac, your mother and I need to talk to you about something.”

  Evangeline shook her head at him and mouthed the word, no.

  Mac slipped from his mother’s embrace and picked up a stick to poke at the fire. “I think the flames are dying. Let me poke at it.”

  “It’s not dying,” Wolf said. “Now put the stick down and listen.”

  Mac tossed the stick in the dirt and took a seat beside Wolf.

  He turned to the boy. “You know that your mother and I were married by proxy—but that we are man and wife.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I didn’t go to the wagon when you didn’t come back. I figured you two were doing married things.”

  Wolf cut his eyes at Evangeline whose face had turned crimson. Wolf bit back a grin.

  “Your mother tells me you’re aware that Reverend Payne wasn’t your real father.”

  Mac lowered his eyes. “I know.”

&n
bsp; “Stop this now,” Evangeline interrupted. “Mac, please leave us alone to discuss a matter.”

  Mac rose.

  Wolf came off the ground and squared off with her. “No, Evangeline. The boy must know. Mac, stay where you are.”

  “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “Garrick was cruel.”

  Wolf looked over at the boy whose head was bowed. “What the hell did Payne tell him?” Taking her by the arm, he pulled her out of earshot of the boy.

  “He told Mac he was born a bastard, that I was a prostitute and that he had saved me from iniquity by marrying me and giving Mac a name.”

  “And you allowed such talk?”

  “I didn’t allow anything. Garrick did as he pleased. He beat me if I dared question him. He locked Mac and me in our rooms for days if we disobeyed.”

  “The boy will be scarred by the abuse.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “I know. That’s why I try to be exceptionally kind to him. He’s been through too much. Now do you see why I protect him as I do?”

  “And you?” He suddenly recalled that first day in Luling when Mac tried to prevent him from undressing Evangeline. “Is that why Mac has been so protective of you? Did he witness Payne abusing you, too?”

  She tried to pull away, but he reeled her back to him.

  “Answer me.”

  She shook her head. “Only once. The other times he was whisked away by our maid.”

  “What about in your intimate relations with the man?”

  She shuddered. “I do not wish to speak of it.”

  “Don’t deny what happened earlier, Evangeline. When we were together in the wagon, you flinched. I felt your body tense when I first entered you. At first I thought you were repulsed by me, by my scar, that you regretted your request for me to join you in bed. Then you relaxed and eventually enjoyed my pleasuring.”

  “Garrick’s technique left much to be desired.”

  “He took you violently?”

  “He took me without care for my comfort.”

  “He raped you.” It wasn’t a question.

  She blinked. “A man cannot rape his wife.”

  “The hell he can’t. If a man forces himself on a woman, he is violating her whether they are married or not.”

  She looked away. “The laws do not view it that way.”

  Slipping a finger beneath her chin, he turned her face to his. “Why didn’t you tell me before that Mac endured such cruelty...that you were abused as well?”

  “There was no time. We left the hotel so quickly yesterday I hadn’t a chance to speak to you.”

  “You could have explained the situation in your letters.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear heavens, I could not put such detestable words in a letter! Someone might have read them!”

  Wolf looked over at the child, then back at her. She had a defensible point. “Payne didn’t harm Mac in any other way, did he? Beat him?”

  Her face paled and she appeared as though she might be ill.

  His stomach turned. “Oh, God, Evangeline did he abuse Mac physically?”

  She shook her head. “No, I...I always managed to protect Mac from his outbursts. Garrick took his anger out on me. I was the one he beat when Mac misbehaved.” Tears sprang into her eyes. “He tried to hurt Mac once, but I arrived in time to stop him.”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “If the bastard weren’t dead, I’d kill him right now for what he did to both of you.”

  She flinched.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Damn! She was still keeping something from him. “No more lies, Evangeline. No secrets between us. If our marriage is to survive, there can be no further deceptions between us.”

  Placing a finger beneath her chin, he turned her face up to his. “You always appear anxious out of Max’s sight. Has something else happened I should know about?”

  She swallowed hard. “A few weeks ago, I received an anonymous note. From a man, I assume. He said he knew the truth about what I’d done and one day I would pay for it. He didn’t elaborate.”

  Wolf led her from earshot of Max. “What was he talking about?”

  She kept her voice low. “I’m not certain, but I presume it’s about Garrick’s death.”

  He took her by the shoulders. “Does Mac know of these letters?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve shielded him from worry, but there were two more before I left Savannah.”

  “Where are the letters?”

  “I burned them before I left for Texas.”

  “You didn’t alert the authorities?”

  “I couldn’t, Wolf.” Her eyes fixed on his. “There’s something I’ve never told another soul, something only Mac and I know, with the exception of the person who sent the notes. It’s about how my late husband truly died.”

  Wolf’s gut churned. “And how did your husband die?”

  She looked away. “Garrick’s death report states a head injury from a fall.”

  Reaching up, he turned her face back to his. What was she hiding? “The fall wasn’t accidental, was it?”

  A commotion with Mac drew their attention away. The boy was having difficulty lifting one of the pots from the fire.

  “I cannot speak of it right now.” She hurried to assist Mac.

  Wolf blew out a breath of exasperation. Why did she avoid his questions? His thoughts turned a dangerous direction as he watched her hug the child. Her love for Mac was strong. Still, he realized why she coddled him now. Had she killed Payne to protect Mac? It wouldn’t be inconceivable for a mother to fight to the death to protect her child, particularly if the man pushed her to the edge of sanity. Had Payne beat the boy, or God forbid, worse? He didn’t have a good feeling about this. Tonight after Mac was asleep he’d get to the bottom of this matter once and for all.

  ***

  Thunderheads began to build on the horizon by noon. Evangeline managed to get the still damp bedding she’d been line-drying into the wagon before a brief downpour. Wolf decided not to break camp, but to stay put until the heavy storms passed and the roads were passable again.

  After a meal of cold tortillas with softened butter and fruit preserves, he sent Mac to bed early. He figured they had at least a good hour or two before another squall arrived, enough time for a relaxing dip in the cool waters of the nearby creek.

  "I don’t feel safe." Evangeline hugged his partially submerged body tightly as thunder rumbled in the distance. "Perhaps we should return to the wagon before the storm hits. Mac might awaken and become afraid."

  Wolf reached around and removed her arms from his waist, then lifted her chin with his fingertip and bent to silence her with a gentle kiss on the lips. "The boy is fine, Evangeline. I told you to stop worrying.”

  She shivered. “Do you think we're in danger?"

  He wiggled a brow at her and pressed his growing arousal against her belly. "You most definitely are, Mrs. Smith.”

  At the flash of lightning overhead, she cried out. He lifted her into his arms and Evangeline slipped her arms around his neck.

  “We should go.” Her breath was as soft as a caress against his cheek.

  Since he’d apparently misjudged the advance of another quick moving storm, he agreed they should take cover. But he didn’t want to return to camp, not when he still had so many questions. Her palm lifted to his cheek and he turned to look at her. Soft, desire-filled eyes met his.

  “Make love to me again.”

  Evangeline moaned softly as his tongue probed her mouth. She opened wider to receive him, her hands sliding into his hair even as the lightning flashed around them. He thrust deep into her mouth, imitating with his tongue what he wanted to do to her body. She arched into him, whimpering her need as her hand reached down and curled tightly around the most intimate part of him. He staggered deeper into the brush with her in his arms, her hand still gripping him. Distracted, his body humming frantica
lly and aching for hers, he narrowly missed walking into a tree. He took cover beneath the canopy of a dense grove of live oak.

  So urgent was his need to claim her again, there were no preliminaries once they hit the ground. He took her swiftly at exactly the moment snaking fingers of lightning flashed across the sky. Her eyes closed and she surrendered herself to him as forceful gusts of dry, hot wind buffeted them, scouring their naked bodies with leaves and grass and dirt. Thunder crashed and boomed around them, rattling both heaven and earth. Tall sycamores and spindly oaks bent and swayed, their dry limbs creaking and groaning eerily in the darkness. So lost in passion, he was scarcely aware a light rain had begun to fall.

  Evangeline matched him with a need as urgent as his own. Cold raindrops pelted his backside and thunder growled long and ominous as they made love. Her body contracted around his at the exact time of his release. He stilled and clutched her hips tightly as he spilled his seed deep inside her.

  Afterward, they lay together in the mud, clinging to one another’s rain-slick bodies in the darkness as the storm subsided and until lightning was but an intermittent flicker far off in the southern sky. He was muddy from head to toe and all points in between. So was she. She shivered in his embrace.

  “I think we need another bath.” He propped himself on an elbow and looked at her. She smiled, a soft, sated look on her face. He caressed her breast, smoothed his palm over her flat belly and imagined what she’d looked like with Mac growing within. So many years had been lost and they’d both endured much pain. Their marriage might have been founded on shaky ground, the result of his desire for revenge, yet she’d chosen to stay with him in spite of his trickery. Now they shared the possibility of having created new life. If they were to make the marriage work, the time for secrets was over.

  “Can you talk freely now that Mac isn’t near?”

  “I didn’t kill Garrick, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I didn’t accuse you.”

  “I saw the doubt in your eyes earlier when we were talking. You don’t trust me.”

  “And you don’t trust me. Otherwise, you would have told me the truth.”