Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One

by Phelps, Victoria

  She was close, so close. Her pale blue eyes opened and a flash of dark fear darted across their surface. Overwhelmed, overcome, assaulted by new sensations, she shivered.

  “It’s all right, Megan. Open your eyes.” He slowed his rhythm until she focused on him with heavy, lust-filled eyes. “It’s natural. Don’t be afraid. Look in my eyes, and we’ll go over together.”

  Their gazes locked tight and their bodies joined, Mike resumed his pounding presence.

  Ready for release, he lifted himself onto extended arms. “Now, Megan. Come with me now. Now.”

  He shuddered as his seed flooded her, and he felt her internal muscles tighten and pulse in pleasure. He fell to the side, taking her with him in his embrace.

  “Oh, Megan. Darlin’. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Michael.” Her breathing resumed a more sedate pace.

  “I knew there was a volcano under that fiery hair. We’re gonna be just fine. I’m mighty happy you’re mine.” He turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Sleep now. Sleep.”

  Mike woke as a sliver of sun broke over the horizon. Megan’s body curled into his, her back against his chest. He eased his arm from beneath her head, pausing as she wiggled deeper into the covers.

  He wanted her to sleep, but the men would be waiting for him. Another day on the Circle M was beginning, and he was the boss. He carried his boots out of the room softly closing the door behind him. He paused outside the door, eyes closed. Lord have mercy, that was a wedding night for the ages. His laugh echoed down the stairs.

  Lupe had eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee waiting. Manuel’s plate was empty. He was already working on his second cup of coffee.

  “Good night, jefe?” Manuel gave his shoulder a shove.

  “Yes, indeed. Yes, indeed.” It would be dishonorable to say more. He wouldn’t trespass on the sanctity of their bedroom. He turned to business. “We’ll go to the north pasture today and drive the herd closer to the house. That should be the last group we need to move. Either those rustlers will move on or become bolder. How many steers have we lost?”

  “I’d say about one hundred. These hombres are serious trouble, jefe. They know what they’re about. Moving from spot to spot, keeping us guessing.” Manuel’s troubled voice matched his pensive stance.

  “Let’s get going. Be sure all the men are armed.” Mike strode out to meet the day.

  The hired hands waited outside, ready for orders. Mike’s horse was saddled and his rifle stuck out from its scabbard. “Keep your eyes open, men. These rustlers are dangerous. We hoped when the cattle were closer to the house, they would get discouraged and leave. So far, it hasn’t worked. Travel in pairs and be careful.” He gave a brisk nod and swung into the saddle.

  Eating dirt, waving his hat at strays, shouting at the cows to move, the day progressed like a thousand others on the range until they found the latest cold campfire. The rustlers were a bold band. This was the closest evidence of their thievery so far. The bandits were creeping closer and closer to the house. Too close.

  Mike’s stomach gave a flip followed by a summersault. The need to check on Megan, to assure himself of her safety, itched at his gut.

  “Manuel, can you handle the rest of this move? I want to warn Lupe and Megan about the rustlers. They are too close to the house. The women need to stay inside as much as possible and keep their guns handy.” The hands grinned at him. He knew what they were thinking, and they weren’t far from the truth. If he could persuade Megan to join him in their room for an afternoon of loving, he surely would. But, he would see to the women’s safety first.

  He galloped into the yard and a hand who stayed behind to mend harnesses took his horse. Lupe sat at the kitchen table chopping vegetables and humming a little tune.

  “Lupe, where’s Megan?” Michael looked about the room as if she might be hiding beneath a chair.

  “She went outside about an hour ago. Maybe she’s on the porch.” Lupe stopped her knife in midair. “Is everything all right?”

  “Those darn rustlers are getting too close to the house. I came to warn you. Stay inside as much as possible and keep your gun with you. Those are the orders until we catch this nasty group.”

  “I understand, jefe. I hope Megan didn’t wander off.” Lupe pulled her eyebrows into a straight line and pursed her lips.

  Mike took the stairs two at time and checked each bedroom. No Megan. She was not on the porch. She was not in the outhouse. She was not in the yard. He slapped his leg and headed for the little path. The river. He took off at a run for the river. He paused at the slight left turn. If she missed it, she would wander off into open range. Bending low to the ground he looked for foot prints heading away, but saw none.

  As he turned the last bend, he slowed. Megan sat on a ledge of rock. Her legs were pulled to her chest and wrapped in her arms. She watched the river wend its way past as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if she weren’t somewhere she had no business being. As if there weren’t a cottonmouth snake curled up under the very ledge she sat on.

  Michael pulled in a deep breath trying to slow the pounding of his heart and reduce the sound of rushing blood pulsing through his ears. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his gun from its holster. He pulled the hammer back willing it not to alert the sleeping snake with its click. Too late. The snake lifted his head and uncurled its patterned body.

  Holding his weapon with both hands, he aimed, sent a silent prayer that Megan would not move, and fired. His shot was true. The snake’s head dangled uselessly, nearly severed from its body. Mike drew a breath deep into his lungs and dropped his arm.

  “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph. Michael, you scared me half to death, man. Why ever were you sneaking up on me and firing off that gun?” Megan jumped from her ledge and placed both hands over her heart.

  “Why was I sneaking up on you and firing a gun? Look behind that rock and you’ll see why. That snake was under the rock you were sitting on.” A shuddering breath vibrated through his chest.

  He grabbed her by the arms and gave a small but vigorous shake. “Why are you here?” The question was followed by a second shake. “What were you thinking?” The third shake sent her head snapping back. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  He stepped back and studied her. This disobedient woman terrified him. Hadn’t she paid any attention to his rules? His explanations?

  “Start with the first question. Why are you here?” He waited while his anger radiated in near visible waves.

  Megan looked over her shoulder at the river. “Well, Michael, it was so lovely here yesterday, and it wasn’t so very far. I just thought…” Her voice grew quiet and stumbled to a stop.

  “Aren’t you supposed to stay within view of the house?” It was a rhetorical question, but he was curious to the bone to hear her answer.

  “Yes, but the river is close, and I didn’t expect you back until later.” Megan’s eyes grew round before she took up a close study of the dirt between her feet.

  “Well, I think that answers the second question. What were you thinking? You were thinking to sneak off to the river and be back before I got home. You weren’t planning to tell me you’d been here.” The sad slump of her shoulders gave him an answer. “In my book that’s as good as a lie. Blarney, Megan. Remember. No blarney.”

  Megan chanced a glance at his face, her eyes rimmed in unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “You didn’t think. I guess that answers the last question: What do you have to say for yourself.” He replaced his gun in his holster, and they stood in painful silence.

  “Megan, I don’t make rules to be bossy. I make them to keep you safe. I can only think that you haven’t listened to anything I’ve said. I’m disappointed and—”

  “No, that’s not true,” Megan interrupted her husband’s speech.

  “Did you leave a note or tell Lupe where you were going?” He waited until she gave her head a small shake. “Did you bring your gun?
Did you stay within sight of the house? Did you check for snakes before sitting down? Did you plan to feed me a pile of blarney about your day?” He stopped and watched the tears spill over onto her freckled cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just wanted to see the river, that’s all.”

  “The rules are for your health and safety and I expect them to be obeyed. I explained before. Texas is not Ireland. It is not Boston.” He took hold of her upper arm and turned her toward the ranch. A firm swat to her bottom sent her scrambling for the path.

  “You, Mrs. Manning, have earned your first spanking.”

  Chapter 7

  Megan

  Spanking? Her stomach quivered and her knees trembled. Surely she could talk some reason to the man. She had broken some of his silly rules, but she wasn’t a baby after all.

  Pausing, she began to turn toward her husband, to explain, to reveal her new understanding of his expectations, but a second swat propelled her forward. Her only choice was to keep moving, keep out of range of his hand.

  When they arrived at the ranch house, she panted from the speed of the walk, but Michael strode behind her like he was on a Sunday stroll.

  “Use the outhouse and go to our room. I won’t spank you when I’m angry, but I’ll be up soon.” He marched to the side of the barn, picked up the ax, and set a piece of wood on the chopping block. Raising the ax far above his head, he it brought it down with a crack. The wood split and fell, bouncing to the ground. He picked up a second log.

  Megan stood watching, mesmerized by the muscles in his arms that bulged and rippled beneath the cloth of his shirt. She remembered the feel of those muscles from the night before, so hard and splendid. A shot of heat flared between her thighs.

  Mike stopped and stood with the ax hanging from his right hand. “Do as you’re told,” He said, his voice a gravelly growl.

  She fairly ran to the outhouse, and then crept past him and into the house. Maybe if she didn’t draw his notice he would forget about the spanking and take all his anger out on the wood.

  “Where have you been, Megan?” Lupe waited at the door. “Jefe was worried. Those rustlers are working closer and closer to the house. He came to warn us.”

  “I walked to the river.” Lupe’s right eyebrow disappeared into her hair. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but it was so beautiful there yesterday. I didn’t see the harm. Oh, Lupe, he said he was going to spank me.” Tears fell freely down her face and soaked the front of her dress. “But I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll follow every rule.”

  Lupe put her arm around the young bride’s shoulders. “If he says he’s going to spank you, that’s what he’s going to do. Best get used to the idea.” She rubbed Megan’s back in little circles of comfort. “What did he tell you to do?”

  “Go to our room,” Megan whimpered.

  “Well, you best do it. No use getting yourself in more trouble. No use crying now, either. Save it for when you need it.” Lupe turned Megan toward the stairs.

  Megan trudged to their room. There must be a way. She looked longingly out the window. Town was too far. She’d never make it. Besides, she didn’t want to run away again. Michael was a good man, and he was her husband. She wanted a life with him here on this dry Texas range. She hoped to have babies, lots of babies, and he would be a good father—firm but fair.

  Firm but fair. I guess that’s what got me here waiting for a spanking. She had known to stay near the house, and she tried to deceive. Blarney, she couldn’t argue it. She had forgotten about the note and taking the gun, but she wasn’t completely comfortable with the gun yet. It was better she left it behind. Yes, she would explain about the gun.

  Footsteps, loud and menacing, sounded on the stairs and paused before their door. She held her breath, and then he was in the room, frowning with his hands on his hips.

  “I sent Lupe to her house. What happens in this room is private. No one will hear, Megan. I wouldn’t embarrass you that way. Now, don’t get me wrong. If you need a little swat or two in public, you’ll get it. But never a real spanking.” He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. He motioned with his hand. “Come here, Megan.”

  Tears welled and wobbled in her pale blue eyes. “No, please, Michael. I understand. I won’t wander off again.”

  “I aim to make sure of it.” He looked down at the floor. “When I saw that snake, my heart nearly stopped. If you had lowered your foot to get off the rock, he would have bit you.” He heaved a shuddering breath. “I apologize for shaking you. All I could think about at first was saving you, and then fear and anger hit my body like a lightning strike. It’s why I didn’t spank you right then and there, or even after we first got back to the house. I’ll never punish you while I’m angry or upset. If I did, I might hurt you. Now, come here.” He held out his hand for a second time.

  “But a spanking will hurt me. Please, I don’t want you to spank me. I’m scared.” She backed into the corner of the room. Her bottom nestled into the adjoining walls.

  “Nobody wants to be spanked. That’s the point after all. It’s punishment. And remember, I did tell you there would be consequences for disobeying and putting your health or safety at risk. Did you disobey, Megan? Did you put your health and safety at risk?” He waited.

  “Yes, but I won’t do it again. I don’t want to be spanked like a child.” Her voice veered toward a whine.

  “And I told you I won’t spank you like a child where a little swat will probably do the trick. I aim to spank you like the misbehaving wife you have been today. Then I’ll hold you tight, and we’ll put it behind us.” He motioned again, impatiently. “If I have to come get you, it will be worse for you. It’s only a spanking, darlin’. Nobody every died from having their bottom warmed.” Again, he beckoned her with his hand. “One more chance. Come here.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Mike crossed the room in two long steps. He circled her waist with his arm and carried her, feet and head dangling. He paused only long enough to grab her hairbrush where it was lying on top of their dresser.

  “That little defiance will cost you a visit from the hairbrush when I am done with the spanking. It would be best to remember that in the future.” He stood her between his legs and waited for her sobs to stop.

  “I’m going to lift your dress and pull down your drawers.” Fresh tears fell onto her soaked dress. “If we find ourselves here again, I’ll expect you to do it yourself. But I’ll do it this time since you are so upset. But, Megan, I am not going to beat you. It’s only a spanking.”

  “I know.” She wailed in panic. “But I’ve never been spanked before.”

  “Yup, I figured as much.”

  She felt his hands, strong and sure, slide up her thighs to the little bow that held her bloomers in place. With a tug, they fell to her ankles.

  “Step out.”

  Megan managed to lift her feet from the confines of her underwear. Michael moved her to his right side, took the fabric of her dress in his hand and held it at the middle of her back. “Over you go.” Feeling a slight push to her back, she bent herself over his muscular legs and looked at the floor. He lifted her further over until her head dangled beside his calf and her bottom was firmly centered on his thighs.

  She waited for the first spank, but it didn’t come. Instead, he was fussing with her dress, moving it higher and folding it out of his way. Then he rubbed and patted her bare bottom and squeezed her cheeks a time or two.

  Megan became aware of her bottom laid over her husband’s lap. Her bare bottom. Well, a spanking was embarrassing. She wiggled away, but he stilled her with a firm hand on her lower back. He placed his hand between her thighs and forced her legs apart.

  Saints above, he could see all of her now. He had seen her last night, of course, but this study he was making of her nakedness was different. Embarrassing. Humiliating. She tried to buck off his lap, but he only increased the pressure on her back. He was stronger. Th
ere was no contest.

  “That’s part of it, Megan.” He seemed to be reading her thoughts. “No one likes to be presented for punishment. The waiting is part of it, too. Remember all these things the next time you think to disobey me.”

  She thought she simply wanted it to be over until he landed the first spank. Then she would have been happy to lay over his legs all day while he examined her. His hand rose and fell, but there was no pattern. She could never be prepared for the next spank or the one after that.

  Tears fell and mucus ran unchecked. She twisted to avoid his hand, but it never worked. She threw her hand back, but he caught it in his large one and held it at the small of her back. She felt his right leg rise and her head lowered closer to the ground. She stilled, wondering what this meant when he began work on the flesh where bottom met thigh.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I understand, Michael. Stop.” She wailed. She begged.

  His hand stopped delivering pain and began to rub her bottom. If she were a cat, she would purr. It felt that good.

  “Spanking’s over. Just five with the brush and we’re done,” he whispered.

  Before she could comprehend his words, the flat of the wooden brush made contact with her bottom.

  “Jaysus,” she screamed.

  The brush fell four more times, quick and terrible. Then he lifted her to his lap and set her on her unpunished hip. His kisses rained down on her head, her neck, her shoulder.

  “It’s over. I went light on you seeing as this is your first spanking.” He rubbed her back.

  Light? Holy Mother of God.

  He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and mopped her face. “Shh, darlin’. It’s over.”

  She felt his hardness pressing into her bottom and wiggled against it. She was rewarded with a strangled groan, so she pushed down and moved against him again.