An Unwilling Husband Read online

  Lenny led Roy’s mules out to the corral to stretch their legs while Maggie milked the cows with her wrapped hands. Macey seemed thoroughly unimpressed with the new texture pulling at her full udders, and let her know with dirty looks and a swishing tail in her face. The other cow didn’t seem to care as long as she had a fresh pile of hay in front of her. Lenny wouldn’t let her do anything much after that. Garret must have talked to her. Unfortunately.

  Watching the tiny Indian woman do all the chores without being able to lift even one blister covered finger to help was stultifying. Eventually she went into the cabin. Since she couldn’t do much else, today she’d try to master the elusive art of pie baking. She cleared off the entire dining table to use as work space. Three hours later, by the quiet striking of the clock in the den, dusted with flour, she glared critically at a rather bedraggled strawberry pie. It looked awful but tasted like it ought. Pride warmed her and her mouth turned up at the corners in a smile. She’d try and make it a little prettier next time, is all.

  Cooped up and restless, she pulled on her shawl and stepped onto the porch. Rain didn’t seem imminent, so she went out to saddle Buck. Garret’s earlier request to have him ready had gone by the wayside while she’d been baking. Now uneasiness skittered through her. Wyatt could still make good on his promise after all.

  After Buck was saddled, she searched for Lenny, to no avail. “A ride it is then, my old friend,” she said, combing through Buck’s mane with her fingers. “We could use a little adventure, yeah?”

  She took the horse’s snorted response as a yes and mounted him with an ease that was slowly coming to her the more she rode. This was her first outing in one of the smaller and more casual dresses and, happily, the skirts were easier to maneuver.

  As an afterthought, she pulled Buck up to the porch and ran inside to grab some food. Biscuits and a hunk of cheese in the saddlebag, she pointed the old gelding in Garret’s direction. Surely he was starving by now. With any luck, he would be hungry enough, he’d tolerate her unexpected presence with some semblance of gratitude. Or maybe not. Either way, she would find out shortly.

  Long before he appeared head and shoulders behind all the cattle, his loud whistles and shouts to keep the herd moving came to her. The Lazy S kept roughly two hundred head back each year to sustain the herd for the next season’s drive and keep the residents comfortably fed on beef when game grew harder to hunt in the winter months. Or so Cookie had explained to her when she’d asked if the men would get a break from their bovine duties.

  Garret and the cattle were already close enough to the pond, so she waited patiently to the side. He was a man completely in control of his horse as he worked. The sight of him was both exciting and flustering. A length of rope hung from his hands, which he swung around occasionally when the stubborn cattle needed extra motivation. The motion accentuated the muscles in his trim waist and strong arms.

  Maggie put her hand to her cheek and felt the warmth there. Embarrassed that she watched him while he was unaware, she urged Buck in Garret’s direction. The movement must have caught his eye, for he nodded a terse greeting but kept working.

  “Keep that side over there, will ya?” he yelled, pointing to a group of cattle determined to escape from the group. She pulled the rest of the herd animals in the same direction he seemed to be working. Her work wasn’t pretty or organized, but Buck cut through the cattle like waves on a shore.

  She didn’t doubt Garret could handle it on his own, but she was happy for a chore and jumped at the chance to do something new. Clucking her tongue, she steered Buck toward the ill-behaved beasts. At a loss for training, she looked often to Garret to mimic his actions. His horse lurched forward and back at his command, and he yelled indecipherable words at the herd to move them in the direction he wanted. It became easier to yell at the bawling beasts when her frustration reached the burning tips of her ears.

  Again and again, a young spotted bull ran for the brush and pulled the confused group’s edge with him. She drove the beastly little leader back but he wasn’t gracious about going. “Move it, you biscuit licking son of a blooming arsehole!”

  Surely, Garret couldn’t possibly hear her over the bellowing of the cattle.

  From the smile on her husband’s face, though, she was most likely wrong. She was green and made a lot of mistakes, but with time and patience, perhaps, could be decent at herding them. With practice, she’d gain the instinct for predicting where the beasts would go like Garret seemed to have.

  At long last, they were close enough to the pond, the cattle headed in the right direction on their own. Garret trotted up beside her on Rooney.

  “You know, sometimes you have a filthy mouth.” Grinning, an amused glint in his eye, he sat with ease on his shifting, prancing mount.

  “Well, I thought you couldn’t hear me, and they weren’t going where I wanted them to. Swearing seemed to work best on them, in my very limited experience.” She tried not to smile. His boorish behavior was not to be encouraged. “I brought lunch, if you are hungry.”

  Garret inspected the sky as the tiny rain drops that had been sparse until then became more substantial. “I was going to head back to the house and grab the wagon so I could haul some feed out here, but I could stop for lunch. Besides,” he gave another suspicious look at the sky, “I think it’s about to open up out here, and a wise man seeks shelter in a storm.”

  She followed him to a huge oak and tied Buck to a low branch alongside Rooney. Garret took a coarse, rolled blanket from his saddle and laid it out at the base of the gargantuan tree. Moisture managed to make its way through the maze of leaves and thick branches, but for the most part, she and Garret were dry. Much drier than the soaking wet herd milling in front of them.

  As she pulled out the lunch, Garret fixed his gaze on the side of her face. Was she wearing her breakfast?

  “What have you been doing today?” he asked, and wiped the pad of his thumb down her cheek, leaving a trail of heat where his skin touched hers. He pulled his hand away to inspect his flour-covered thumb.

  As she wiped her face thoroughly with her sleeve, she said, “Making a pie. Or trying to make a pie.”

  “Well, how’d it turn out?”

  “It tastes good but looks like a dead animal.”

  Garret barked a surprised laugh, put a hunk of cheese onto his bread then took a bite. When finished chewing, he said, “And how would you know what a dead animal looks like?”

  “Because Lenny made me skin a rabbit.”

  Wide-eyed, he stared at her, shaking his head while he finished his last bite of food. “So I guess that means you have learned Lenny can be as stubborn as a hair in a biscuit. Was that what you girls were going on about the other night?”

  “Mm-hmm. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong, it was awful. But I survived.”

  He leaned over her lap to flick a beetle stealthily headed her way. At the movement and unexpected nearness of his face to hers, she inhaled sharply and froze. Then, with almost studied slowness, he moved his head to the side and brought his lips inches from hers. Her mouth throbbed with wanting.

  His body drew closer, filling her senses with his smell and raw power. “Don’t worry, Maggie. I wasn’t going to kiss you.” His smile was rakish and infuriating. Breathtaking. He pulled away with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Damn the man. Without sparing a glance for his face, she regained her composure and packed up the remnants of their picnic. She didn’t want to know what she would find in his expression. “So you never want children, then?” she asked. It was a trap. Of course she was setting one, but she’d been unable to stop her mouth from putting the pin in the metal mind contraption and covering it with foliage. Maybe she would make an acceptable hunter after all.

  “Didn’t say that. I wouldn’t mind having children. Just never imagined it would be with you.”

  Her agitation burned white hot. “And why is that? Am I not blond enough for y
ou? My eyes aren’t blue enough, or I’m not as petite as you like? I’m aware I’m plain, Mr. Shaw. Reminding me of such does nothing to change what is. It is only cruel and inconsiderate.”

  Garret snorted and leaned back on his hands. “And who said you were plain? I didn’t, so I’m curious as to who I need to blame for you lightin’ me up.”

  Not about to get into Aunt Margaret’s story, she glared at him. Such a rogue didn’t deserve to be rewarded with something she’d kept buried. She stood and started packing everything away into Buck’s saddle bags.

  “Dammit, Maggie. Why is it that every time I open my mouth you make me feel like I say the wrong thing?”

  “Because you do.”

  In one smooth motion, he rose and stood towering over her. “I’m saving you, woman. Can’t you see that? You don’t want a physical relationship with a man. You aren’t ready for it.”

  “And how would you know what I’m ready for? You don’t even know me!” she shouted, fluffed her dress in agitation.

  “Christ Almighty,” he gritted out, looking away, toward the cattle. He kicked at the soft ground with the toe of his boot and sighed heavily. “Because I read your journal.”

  “Excuse me?” She tried desperately to deny what she’d heard. He wouldn’t have.

  “I said, I read your journal, and don’t look at me like that. You left the damned thing sitting wide open on my desk, near begging to be read.”

  Those letters, stories, entries about her most private introspections were never meant to be revealed. And now her husband, her personal stranger, had stolen her innermost thoughts. He would know her now, much more than she was comfortable with. Garret had taken a piece of her without her consent. The boy she’d known would never have done that.

  He looked at her like he’d just poked a rattlesnake. “Some of those stories...they were on the wicked side of things. And while the writing was pretty, those weren’t stories from a woman who’s known a man. They were what you wished it would be like. And I’m telling you right now, it ain’t like what you wish.”

  Blooming shite, she wanted so badly to look fierce and angry with him, but her lip trembled. And that betrayal was just one too many. She turned abruptly to leave but Garret grabbed her hand and she rounded on him, slapped him across the face. Hard.

  “You had no right,” she said in a shaking voice.

  Her hand stung where it had met his skin but the satisfaction was so acute, she planted her hands on his chest and pushed him.

  “Stop it, Maggie.”

  “Or what?” She pushed him again. And again. And the fact that his hard body didn’t flinch in the least under her blows only made her angrier.

  He snatched her wrists and pulled her to him so fast she gasped with surprise. As he pressed himself against her, she retreated. Her back collided with the unforgiving trunk of the large oak. The anger on Garret’s face scared and excited her, and an unfamiliar clenching stretched from the base of her stomach downward as he thrust his frame firmly against hers.

  “You really think you’re ready for this?” His eyes stayed focused on her, and she couldn’t look away from the piercing blue, however hard she tried.

  Afraid she would be completely unable to speak if she opened her mouth, she nodded. He glared at her a moment longer and pulled her wrists above her head. Then kissed her. It wasn’t gentle as their wedding day kiss had been, but demanded more. His rising excitement pushed against her hip, and she rotated, pressed herself against him. An urgent sound came from his throat and he hesitated for a breath, then opened her mouth with his, deepening their connection. The taste of him made her frantic for more.

  He dropped her hands and entangled his in the back of her hair, took her mouth with the alluring fury of a raging fire, eliciting a delicious shiver from her that made her cling to his waist. Her fingers found their way under his vest, and he gave a frustrated grunt, pulled back and untucked his shirt from his pants.

  Beneath the fabric of his shirt, his skin felt hard and smooth. She ran her nails gently down the length of his back, and his breathing quickened, his strong muscles tensed and flexed with his need beneath her fingertips.

  His lips left hers, and he kissed and nibbled her neck in turn. Could he feel her heart beating so wildly? It pulsed so loudly, how could he not hear it, feel it against his chest? The stubble on his face touched her neck and her breath caught at the delicious contrast against her sensitive skin. She felt as if the deepest parts of her would explode at any moment.

  “Tell me something,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me anything about you. Something important. Something that only I will know.”

  He wanted a piece of her soul. Would wrench it from her body and hold it in his hand. Asked her to trust him with a piece of herself, and she could only think of one thing that held any meaning to her.

  “I’ve loved you since we were children.” She sighed, aching with the realization. “And now you’ll run.”

  He stopped kissing her neck and retreated by inches. The endless silence pressed against her shoulders like it held weight. As he gently massaged the back of her head, his breathing slowed and eventually leveled out. With the hard planes of his body against her, she knew he was still aroused, but she leaned her head against the tree and waited, eyes closed.

  “I can’t do this.” Garret’s voice was low and certain in her ear. “It’s not the same for me.”

  Her eyes filled with traitorous tears but she nodded with understanding.

  He pulled away and stood with his back to the tree. To her. “My mother was a lady, never meant for this life. When she died, she left me with my pa. Left him to drink himself into a grave and beat on me every day getting there. You saw some of it. You know. I’m a man now and I’ve healed, but it left a welt on me that you unfortunately have to pay for. Your momma was Roy’s world, but she was a lady. Not meant for this life.”

  The direction this conversation was headed was unfair, and she bit her trembling lip to keep from shouting that at him.

  “She up and left Roy, and I watched the best man I’ve ever known suffer for years, mourning the loss of you two. You didn’t see it tear him up. I did.” He looked at her pleadingly, likely begging her understanding, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “When I was fifteen, you were all I had. I didn’t have to hide what my pa was doing, because you knew. You cared. My only friend, and one day you were gone. No goodbye, nothin’. I was lost after you left. And now you’ve come back a lady. Not meant for this life.” He ambled over to Rooney. “You’ll leave me, Maggie. I can’t give my heart to you. I can’t go through what my pa and Roy went through. I don’t have it in me.”

  He mounted Rooney and rode away, in the direction of the house.

  A pathetic noise escaped her throat but she was helpless to stop the sobs that wracked her. He’d toyed with her emotions and senses, teased her with a moment of affection. A taste of what life could be like, if only she were someone different.

  She dropped to her knees as he disappeared behind the wall of milling cattle without a backward glance for her. Maybe if she wrapped her arms around her stomach, it would fix the hollow feeling humming through her middle. Didn’t she deserve love? It had been withheld from her for so long, and the injustice of a loveless marriage after all she’d endured lashed her soul.

  When her tears had dried and sobs turned to hiccups, she staggered to Buck and let the somber horse plod his way to the ranch house. Maybe it was just the dampness of her rain-kissed skin, but despite the warmth of the season, it seemed a little colder in the open wilds of her reluctant home.

  Chapter 9

  Garret had the mules hitched to the wagon to haul feed by the time Maggie returned to the house.

  “If you leave your horse there, I’ll take care of him and you can go on in,” he offered as she led Buck past him toward the barn in the drizzling rain.

  “Thank you, sir, but I can take care of my own horse.” Her shortness with him was justified, even
if he was trying to do her a kindness.

  Bedraggled and soaked to the bone, she proudly wiped a sopping tress from her face. Her eyes were undoubtedly puffy and red from crying but there was nothing to be done about it, so she did her best to avoid his gaze.

  Buck enjoyed the careful attention she paid him, as she took her time brushing him out. While she braided the buckskin’s mane, she hummed sadly. Buck seemed to sense her mood and gave her long looks. That, or he felt violated at having his hair done up like a show pony. Either way, the time she spent with him settled her down, gave her a chance to sort things out. Lenny showed up eventually and inspected her work on Buck’s mane, then tied her mare beside the buckskin and gave the paint filly the same treatment.

  Before Maggie had even thought about it, she’d unloaded the entire story onto Lenny, who did a curiously fair job of nodding in the appropriate places.

  “Can you understand English?” she asked the Indian girl.

  Lenny jerked her head up, startled, which was enough of an answer. Maggie grinned at the girl, who glanced around and put her finger to her lips.

  “I knew it,” Maggie exclaimed. “Do you speak any? I’ll not tell a soul.”

  Lenny shook her head and looked around again to ensure they were alone. “Little,” she said frowning as if she were uncomfortable.

  After a length of silence, finished with Buck’s beautified mane, she moved to help Lenny with her mare’s tail. “If you don’t want to speak it, I don’t mind. And I won’t tell the boys you have any English. Maybe you could teach me your language though, so we can talk?”

  Quiet followed her question, then a glint of determination appeared in her friend’s eyes. Surely Lenny needed female companionship as much as she would need it over the coming years at the ranch, surrounded by ill-mannered men.