by Reece Butler
He suddenly realized he was glad to be alive. At this very moment, he was happy. He bent slightly forward and extended his left elbow.
“Shall we?”
He could tell she knew it was a dare. He’d push her boundaries as he found out what type of woman he’d insisted Ross marry. With this amount of fight in her, she was better off with Ross. Luckily, she got Nevin, too. As to him, well, he’d see how the wind blew.
Amelia handed the spoons to Elsbeth Fetters. The serving girl took them and flounced into the dining room. She made sure she turned fast enough for her ankles to show. The effort was lost on him. He wanted a woman, not a flighty miss.
The thought startled him for a moment. He wanted to bed Amelia, to share her with Ross and Nevin. He’d never love her as he had Prudence, but he cared for her. A home revolved around a woman, and the Clan needed a good home to raise children in. Amelia would be that woman.
“Thank you for your kind consideration, Mr. MacDougal,” said Amelia.
She moved toward him, her full skirts gliding across the floor as if they were at the finest ball in the East. He’d attended one or two when looking for a wife. Damn waste of time, material, and candles in his mind. The music was slow with too many violins screeching. Nothing like the pipes.
The pipes. He hadn’t gotten them out since he brought Prue home. She didn’t like the sound, she said. Too much like cats fighting. Well, Amelia was going to learn to like them whether she wanted to or not.
“What is that smug smile about, dear brother-in-law?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. Her words were like honey, but her look was pure poison. Ah, bettering this woman for the next few weeks was going to make him a new man.
“You’ll discover soon enough, Amelia.”
* * * *
“I swear I’ll not wear a corset again on a hot day while riding in this wagon!”
Amelia tried to move into a more comfortable position. It was unseasonably hot for late June. The afternoon sun beat down on them. She held a parasol matching her dress. Without it, she would burn through the thin material barely covering her shoulders. She gasped in relief when they entered the woods and the temperature dropped drastically.
“Whoa.”
She held the side as Gillis stopped the wagon. She turned to him.
“Take it off if it’s bothering you so much.”
He didn’t look at her as he swung down the side. His kilt swung wide, showing his white buttocks and strong thighs. He kept his back to her as he walked toward the stream with a bucket.
If she tried to get down without him, she would surely tear her dress. She couldn’t take off her corset without removing her dress. That was something she was not going to do until in the privacy of her room. But she could take off a few other layers.
She reached under her skirt, the side farthest from Gillis, and tugged. Gillis knelt by the stream filling the bucket, his back to her. She stood up, reached underneath, and wiggled her drawers down.
They were soaked, both at her waist and between her legs.
A quick look showed he was paying her no attention. She flipped up the overskirt and untied her petticoats. The top two were the thickest, covered in carefully ironed ruffles. She struggled out of them, leaving the plain one on. She gathered them up and then turned around. She knelt on the seat and carefully placed her bundle on a clean section of the wagon floor. She overbalanced and found herself caught, head and arms on one side and flailing legs on the other.
A warm hand on her bottom steadied her. Gillis reached around her middle with his other hand. He took his time lifting her top end up. In the process, his hand slipped over her corset to her breast. He held it there for a moment.
“Are ye sure ye dinna want me tae spank ye, lass?”
She heard the laugh in his voice.
“I’m very sure, thank you,” she growled. “Please remove your hands from my person so I can sit down.”
“If I thought ye did it a’purpose, ye’d not wish to be sitting for a wee while.”
He placed her hands on the boards and helped her balance until she could get herself right. He leaped off the wagon again, chortling. She was mortified at the position he’d found her in as well as his implication that she’d done it on purpose. She panted, once again cursing the corset that held her so tight.
“As soon as I get home, I’m going to take this off.” She suddenly gasped, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, no!”
Nevin had tied her corset and done up her buttons. On her back. She remembered him tucking the strings under her shoulder. The dress was so tight that she’d never reach to undo it herself.
She heard a deep snort of laughter. Gillis held up the bucket for the lead horse to drink. He had that cock-of-the-walk, know-it-all expression she’d seen on a few of the more insufferable boys who gathered around Prue.
“I wondered when ye’d figger that out.” He snorted again. The animal did as well, only louder. Gillis moved the bucket to the other horse.
“It’s not funny.”
“Aye, it is.” Though he spoke seriously, she saw the twinkle in his eye and lip twitch. “Ye’ve got twa choices. Ask me te help ye or wear what ye’ve got on until the others return.”
“I could ride to Beth’s and ask her to help.”
“Do ye know how to saddle a horse, lassie? I thought not.”
“I’ll not go near the stove in this dress. You’ll have to feed yourself.”
The horse finished drinking. He rubbed it between the ears. “Ye’ll nae go near the privy in it, either.” He grinned openly at her. “I’ll gladly lend ye my hands, fumble-fingered though they be.”
She glowered at him for a moment.
“Fine. But you’ll wear a handkerchief around your eyes.”
“I told Ross ye were a bright one.” He attached the bucket back to the side of the wagon and climbed up. She held on as it rocked with his weight. “I’ll cover my eyes tae keep yer modesty, Mrs. MacDougal.”
She’d wear her ugliest wash dress with a chemise and petticoat every day while Ross was away. After all, she had more chores with Daniel gone. She’d also have more free time. She wanted to use her charcoals to make a sketch of James as a present for Beth. Surely, they’d visit at least once while she was alone. The Elliotts said they’d help fill in for the two missing men, and Beth could easily come along.
She was silent the rest of the way home, thinking of her plans. Gillis, however, would look at her and chuckle every now and then, as if he had a funny secret he’d not share.
After today’s fiasco, she was bound to prove to him that she could do very well without him, thank you very much. She also wanted to prove to herself that she could do all the chores of a ranch wife. She tried to ignore the twitch between her legs that demanded the rough touch of a man.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Stop laughing. I don’t find this at all amusing.”
Gillis knelt on the bedroom floor while Amelia tied the red handkerchief tight around his closed eyes. She was madder than he’d ever seen Prue. But then, he didn’t bedevil his wife since she took it so badly. He hadn’t realized how much he kept back from her so as not to cause an upset. Even when they met, he treated Prudence like a porcelain doll. Amelia, however, was able to take all sorts of pranks.
When he saw Amelia dang near buck-naked in the clearing, with Ross banging her from behind and Nevin kneeling before her, sucking her pussy, he’d damn near come on the spot. He quickly turned around, in such shock he didn’t know or care who she was. Just that he could never have that with his late wife. Prue was never so hot that she couldn’t wait until they went into their room at night.
He’d thought about what Prue would have done if she’d got herself in this predicament with only Ross or Nevin around. She would have cut the dress and corset off rather than be seen by the others. Her talk of sharing was just that. Talk.
Auntie told him what Amelia did with Nevin on the kitchen table before
Ross hauled her outside for more. The old lady damn near giggled in pride. She said Amelia’s sass was good for her boys.
He didn’t mind a bit of sass in a woman, as long as she knew who was boss.
Amelia tied a third knot. “Can you see anything?”
“It’s all dark from this side.”
“Good. I’ll turn around so you can start on my buttons.”
Gillis opened his eyes. He wouldn’t touch the blindfold to make it easier to see, but he wasn’t about to let her know that enough light filtered through. He got to his feet, stumbling a bit. He held out his hands, feeling for her.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
She grabbed his hand and placed it on her back before he could touch her elsewhere. Now that her back was turned, he let a smile slip out. He blew out his breath as he worked on her buttons. It made the tendrils of hair at her neck stir. She shivered, just like Prue used to do. He cursed as his thick fingers fought the tiny buttons.
“Who was the idjit who tied you into this fool dress?”
“Nevin was kind enough to do it for me.” Her tone was snippy, implying that Ross had refused to do it.
“I’ll have to thank the lad.”
“Why?”
She turned toward him. He kept his eyes as slits and let his fingers trail over her bare neck as she turned. He wasn’t going to say that it allowed him to touch her, reminding him what a woman’s soft skin felt like.
“’Tis the first time I’ve been up here since Prue died. She’s dead and buried,” he croaked. “And I have to move on.”
Careful of the blindfold, he pressed his knuckles against his forehead as sudden grief rolled over him. It faded quickly this time rather than taking hours. Amelia forced him to open up and see that life went on. She grieved for her sister but was able to move on.
He’d lost his wife, but he was the Chief. It was his job to be responsible for the Clan. He would not follow Prue into the grave the way that Trace’s father had followed his mother. He was not that selfish.
When he saw Amelia that day in the clearing, taking his brothers with every bit of joy she could, something shattered inside him. It scared the hell out of him. Even this morning in town, he’d fought against letting her in. But his brothers were gone for some time, and he had to step forward. He never let Prue wander around town alone, and he was not going to let Amelia.
He just hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed proving to her who was boss. He’d laughed at her today…and lusted. It would have been even better if he’d been able to get into a knock-down fistfight.
“Ah, well,” he murmured. “It is what it is.”
She moved away with the last button undone. He heard the skiff of fabric as she slipped off her bodice. She wore a red corset underneath. With her back to him, she pulled off her fancy shift, skirt, petticoat, and bustle. She bent over to lay them on the bed and then turned to face him.
He had to bite his tongue.
He’d taken one look at her in the clearing and turned his back. Since then, he’d told himself the vision he held in his mind was false.
It was real.
Damn, she was lush! There were the wide hips that had Ross held with both hands. He remembered that curve of her ass as she bent forward, breasts jiggling as she gasped with each thrust. Her belly might even now hold his nephew.
She turned her back and stood in front of him.
“Nevin tucked the lacing under my right shoulder.”
He reached out his hand and tentatively touched her hip, as if he wasn’t sure where she was. She shivered and swallowed hard. He traced his fingers up the corset to her armpit. He circled around it so lightly that his calluses skimmed her downy hair. She shivered again.
As soon as the wagon reached the yard she’d run into the house. When he put everything away, he brought her drawers and petticoats to her. Her soaking drawers had the same scent he now inhaled. He would love Prue until the day he died. If she’d lived, he’d never have looked at another woman.
But Prue was dead. Amelia was alive…and married to his brother.
He wouldn’t ask. But if she wanted him, he was too weak to turn her down.
He found the tie and pulled it free. A few minutes and he had her unlaced. She held the corset to her breast like a shield and scuttled over to the corner screen.
“Thank you,” she said. “You can remove the blindfold.”
He pulled it off and blinked. She peeked around the far corner of the screen. Her face was almost as red as her corset.
“Good night, Amelia,” he said.
“Thank you again. Good night.”
His wool kilt rasped against his hard cock as he walked down the stairs. Ross said she might have a nightmare and need to be held. Holding her, just holding, would be torture. But some night, she might want him to do more than hold her. Maybe he’d get a chance to kiss her.
He undressed and lay on the pallet between the stairs and the kitchen. He listened to the house settle around him as it cooled. The comforting sounds reminded him of better times. He drifted off.
* * * *
“Fire! Please, someone, help!”
Gillis was halfway up the stairs before his eyes opened. He ran into the bedroom and stopped, chest heaving. Amelia rolled in the bed, trying to escape the sheets wrapped around her.
“Don’t let them die! Please, help me!”
He strode toward the bed and lifted her, sheets and all, into his arms. “I’ve got ye, lassie. Ye’re safe.”
“But the children!”
“The wee ones are safe. Shh, ye can relax now.”
She sighed and slumped against him. He stood for a moment trying to catch his breath, enjoying the feel of her against him. He gently laid her down and unwrapped her from the sheets. Her nightgown was soaked along with the sheets. Telling himself it was a job that needed doing, he eased her nightgown over her head. Her nipples crinkled as the cool air from the window hit them. He backed off the bed and walked around to the other, undisturbed, side.
He pulled back the top sheet then gently rolled her over. She stretched out on her side, her back to him.
Her long, dark hair, so much like her sister’s, flowed over her body. A body that was nothing like any he’d seen before. Perfect alabaster with light brown circles around large nipples. Dimples above her ass that he could put a thumb into. He sighed and covered her.
He kissed her forehead and walked toward the stairs.
She started moaning again. He looked over his shoulder. She whipped her head to the side and cried out.
He looked up at the ceiling. “Lord, why are ye putting me in temptation?”
Amelia choked, coughing as if she breathed smoke. She whimpered.
“All right, then. ’Tis in yer hands, nae mine.”
As soon as she felt the mattress tip, she turned toward him. He lay on his back and let her climb onto his chest. Her left hip brushed against his cock. He gently rested his arm on her back.
“Sleep, lassie. Yer safe.”
He lay there and looked at the ceiling, silently talking with God, until faint fingers of light broke through the night. Figuring she was safe now, he got up. He looked at the messy bed and the nightgown he’d hung on a peg to dry. He shook his head and padded downstairs, hard cock aching with every step.
Let her figure out how it got there.
* * * *
Amelia carefully sliced bread. She couldn’t remember a thing happening between going to bed and waking up. Gillis had grabbed breakfast and was gone before she woke. All morning, she’d waited for him to say something about what they must have done, but he hadn’t come by.
“Dinner ready yet?”
She jumped. The knife clattered onto the floor. Gillis knelt and set it on the table.
“Better be careful with that. Ye could get hurt.”
She gulped. Though he was dressed as usual, in shirt, kilt, and boots, he looked different. He looked at her differently. She turned her back and went
to the stove. She’d cooked up extra bacon at breakfast. The onions and cold potatoes from yesterday were sliced and ready to heat. A pot of beans was bubbling in the heat at the back of the stove. She slid the heavy pot to the front, replacing it with the cast-iron frying pan.
“Somethin’ itchin’ ye, lass?”
“Pardon?”
She kept her back to him as she added a dollop of bacon fat to the pan and then the onions. Once they were mostly cooked, she’d brown the potatoes with them.
“I said, is somethin’ itchin’ ye?”
His deep voice came from right behind her. Onions. She had to stir the onions.
“Ye’ve been jumpy all day. Did somethin’ happen last night?”
“What?” She squeaked and whirled around. He looked at her for a moment and then turned to wash up in the yard. She watched him pull his shirt off. He was fifteen inches taller and perhaps three times her weight. He moved like a giant, deliberate power visible in every action. Ross and Nevin were more like mountain lions, sleek and graceful but no less deadly.
He splashed water over his beard and furred chest. How did she know what his chest felt like on her face? Soft and warm and a bit prickly. She rubbed her nose. Ross and Nevin’s skin was mostly smooth with only a few stray hairs around their nipples. She’d never thought of getting an itchy nose from a man’s hairy chest.
She startled when a log crackled. She turned back to the stove, catching the onions just in time. She added the chopped potatoes and stirred the pan, coating everything well in bacon fat so they’d brown. She reached for the pot of beans.
“I’ll get that.”
Gillis, still without his shirt, brushed past her. His chest hair tickled her cheek as he passed. She backed away as he picked up the heavy pot with one hand. His arm bulged as he carried it outside.
“Ye want the water in the cauldron?”
“Yes, please.” When the boiling water from the beans cooled, she’d use it on the vegetables and herbs in the garden.
