Mara McBain (3 page)

His underwear hit the floor and her heart with them. She didn’t have any human comparisons but, despite Adrienne’s reassurances, she was positive the thick shaft curling up against Trey’s navel wasn’t natural and wasn’t fitting in her without a world of pain. All moral convictions aside, she found herself wishing that they’d tried this before the wedding. Trey’s offer to put her back on the train sounded pretty good right now.

The bed rocked, and the blankets rustled as he joined her. She was frozen in place. He rolled so he loomed over her, supported on his elbow. His bulk blocked out most of the lamp’s light, but she couldn’t help wishing for the obscurity of darkness.

“You’re shaking. Are you still cold, or scared?” he asked.

“A little of both,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

The fingers of one hand played with the locks of her hair hanging over her shoulder. She tensed as they trailed over the slight swell of her breasts, and then followed the column of her slender throat.

“I can understand you being scared, but we might as well get this conversation out of the way,” he said, his voice dropping into that low bass that fascinated and terrified her all at once. His pale eyes narrowed on her face. “Sex is going to be a part of our marriage, darlin'; a big part. I will do everything I can to make it pleasurable for you, but make no mistake, it’s going to happen. Phony headaches and tears aren’t going to ingratiate you to me. In fact, crocodile tears are a good way to piss me off. I don’t play games, Gen.”

The timber of his voice changed as he spoke, as did the chill in his eyes. His fingers curved around her neck and, for a moment, she thought he was going to strangle her.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Her head snapped forward in a nod so quickly that her chin bounced off his hand. His gaze seemed to soften a bit at her compliance, and his fingers closed around her jaw, his lips dropping to sweep over hers. She gasped when his kisses strayed to the side of her neck and then lower to trace her collarbone. Her breath caught as his lips trailed over the soft mound of her breasts and then took a nipple in his mouth through the sheer material. His hand left her jaw and slid down her to gather the nightgown and drag the flimsy covering back up.

Genevieve didn’t have the breath to protest, even if she’d had the courage, as his mouth moved down to taste the concave of her belly. She’d purposely made the decision not to wear anything under her nightgown, and with his warning not to play games with him she hoped that the easy path was the correct one. His hand wiggled between her thighs urging them to part. They shook as she forced her legs to slide open.

Her eyes widened as he brought his hand back up and wet his fingers in his mouth before slipping it back between her legs. His damp fingers teased and rubbed feeling foreign, but sending little stabs of heat through her. She gasped as a blunt finger wiggled up inside of her. Her body tensed, trying instinctually to expel the invasion.

“Shh, darlin'. Trust me.”

She shuddered as he moved the finger in and out. His mouth was on her skin again, his tongue darting into the dip of her navel. Then his open mouth followed the jut of her hipbone, his goatee tickling until she squirmed underneath the onslaught with a breathless giggle. He chuckled against her hip, both the sound and vibration making pleasure swirl in her belly. Her hips jumped off the bed as his tongue darted between her legs where his fingers were playing. A deep flush covered her body, and she twisted away in embarrassment.

“Trust me, darlin'. If it feels good it isn’t wrong here,” he mumbled, pinning her hips and licking and kissing her most intimate places. His thumb pressed down in a soft grinding movement at the juncture of her lower lips until she wiggled helplessly.

Her hips arched off the bed again, and a little cry escaped her as nerve endings felt on fire. Tears rolled down her cheeks as his tongue thrust inside of her, darting in and out like his fingers had. She twisted frantically, hips in the air, mouth open in a silent scream as pleasure so intense it was painful throbbed through her body.

He pressed her back to the mattress, moving over the top of her. An intense pressure yanked her from her bliss, and she tried to twist away from the force. His big paws spanned her hips, holding her steady. Her eyes widened, tears filling their depths as he slowly pushed into her. She cried out, shaking her head from side to side as the pressure seemed unbearable. Hot tears slid down her cheeks. He eased back, and her body slumped in relief for the briefest second before he drove deep into her, splitting her open with one hard thrust.

There was no checking her scream this time. Pain and an unfathomable fullness gripped her, and she tried desperately to twist away from him. Trey held her steady, not moving, but not allowing her to pull away. Slowly, he slid back a couple of inches and then rocked back into her. She whimpered, but the pain was already starting to subside. He did it again, moving carefully inside her, his face a mask of concentration. For the first time, she noticed the strain marking his handsome features. Little beads of sweat dotted his high forehead.

He kept his thrusts short and gentle until she started to rock up to meet him. When he quickened the pace, driving deeper, she gasped at the stab of pleasure, and arched off the bed. Trey slammed into her harder and faster until the slap of skin on skin in the room nearly drowned out the harsh gasp of his breath and her little cries. The intense pleasure returned, and Gen’s nails dug helplessly into his broad back as she held on for dear life. A scream slipped free as her world shattered, and she bit down on his shoulder. He didn’t slow, slamming into her until she thought she would break. Finally, he threw his head back and let out a guttural roar that shook the light fixtures.

He slumped over her, massive chest rising and falling like a bellows. Realizing she had sunk her teeth into his shoulder, Genevieve gently laved the indentation with soft kisses. His arms were tight around her as if he didn’t want to let go. He was making it difficult to breathe, but she didn’t dare protest. Finally he pushed himself up on a shaky elbow, running a hand over the top of his head to tame the hair that had come loose from his ponytail. His expression looked as dazed as she felt.

Her nose wrinkled, and her lips parted in an O of discomfort as he slid from her. Her insides felt raw. He stroked her hair and down her cheek. She started to apologize for the tears, but he leaned down to kiss her slowly. She closed her eyes, savoring the kiss. She tried to follow him up when he pulled back. He smiled. Rolling out of bed, he held a hand out to her. She frowned, but took his hand and he tugged her from bed. She giggled as her wobbly legs threatened not to support her. Trey swept her effortlessly into his arms and carried her down the hall to the bathroom.

His touch was gentle as he helped her clean up. The tinge of blood marking them both surprised her, though it shouldn’t have. She prayed she hadn’t ruined a pair of sheets. Trey carried a bath towel back with him and stretched it over the damp sheets. Finding her nightgown among the pillows, she pulled it over her head. Trey grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from a dresser drawer, but didn’t bother with the top as he tugged her back into bed. He turned off the light, and the bedroom fell into darkness.

She lay there in the dark taking inventory of her body and emotions. Trey had promised to make the act as pleasant for her as he could, and if that was an example of how far he’d go to keep his word, she had married a good man. She was thankful the night hid her blush. She’d never imagined a man touching her with his hands, let alone his mouth, the way he had. Everything was new. Parts she’d never spared much thought for now ached, but she couldn’t deny the pleasure he’d brought her. She touched lips swollen by his kisses. The bathroom mirror had revealed a pink rash on her pale skin that her new husband had smugly labeled, beard burn. The glint in his eyes when he’d looked at her in the bathroom’s harsh light had seemed approving. If tonight was an accurate representation of what was going to be a
big part
of their marriage, wifely duties didn’t seem such a hardship.

Shivering as her body temperature cooled down, Gen cautiously snuggled closer to Trey. He didn’t move at first, but then he lifted his arm and dropped it around her, cradling her against his side. The heat of his hard body felt heavenly. It was amazing how dainty he made her feel. A yawn threatened to dislocate her jaw. It had been another day of ups and downs. It was going to take a while for them to get a feel for the other. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Right now she was well fed, warm, and she couldn’t ever remember feeling safer. Laying her head on his chest with a small sigh, she was asleep in minutes.

Trey looked down at the head resting so trustingly on his chest. It was a new feeling. When she hadn’t used medical maladies or tears to get out of sex, Catherine had usually presented her back to him right after. Maybe being blunt with Gen about his expectations tonight had been the right move. There had been a few tears, but then it was the girl’s first time and she hadn’t made a drama of it. Afterward she’d been a little sore, but she hadn’t complained and had responded to his gentle teasing as they’d cleaned up.

He shrugged and instantly regretted it. She shifted on his chest, rubbing her pert nose against his skin. He held his breath. Gen settled back in as he pulled the quilt higher on her shoulder. He sighed. The night had gone well. It was a good start. She’d responded well to the direct approach at the church today as well. Maybe he’d gotten lucky enough to find the one female that a man didn’t have to beat around the bush with. It was too soon to tell, but one thing he did know was that he wasn’t going to let love or lust make him as stupid as he’d been the first time around. Never again would a woman put a ring through his nose.

The late October air was crisp with the smell of leaves and the harvest. Trey and Cole had been out the door before first light, taking lunch with them. There was a lot to get done before snowfall, and Trey had lost two days with her arrival and then their wedding. She had offered to accompany them or help in any way she could, but Trey had told her to stay at the house. She’d spent the early hours familiarizing herself with her new home and doing some dusting and cleaning, but now she was restless.

Poking her nose into the various barns and sheds near the house, she found a small menagerie of animals. Besides a chicken coop, there were rabbit hutches, hogs, a couple milk cows, horses, and enough barn cats to assure the rodent population was taken care of. Cole had explained over breakfast that the McCade farm was almost fully self-sufficient with their diversified stock and crops. This had helped them weather the hard times of late better than most.

Turning a heel, Gen stumbled, bemoaning the loss of her sturdy shoes. Though they had worn through in the sole, they had been more practical than her new fashionable footwear. Her new husband had been horrified by the cardboard patch, and the shoes had been left behind in the boutique her first day in Virginia.

A low growl stopped her in her tracks. Swallowing hard, she turned her head to look into the eyes of a huge dog. The beast’s back stood near her waist. His lips were drawn back in a threatening snarl. Saliva dripped from long sharp teeth. She inched toward the barn door, and the monster’s broad head swung slowly, following her. He took a couple steps forward, his growl rumbling. She froze. Gen bit the inside of her cheek. It was too late to run. The powerful canine would be on her before she made it to the door.

With no other options, she held her hand out to the black beast.

“Hey there, big boy,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise you, when he gets back from where ever he is at, Trey will tell you that I’m okay. I’m his new wife, Gen. That’s what he and Adrienne call me. I’m just taking a look around, figuring out the lay of the land. He sure is lucky to have a handsome boy like you guarding the place. Maybe you can show me around.”

The dog stepped closer, his neck stretching out so that his snarling muzzle was an inch from the tips of her fingers. Her hand shook, but she didn’t flinch. She could feel his breath hot on her skin. She about hit her knees when he started to lick her fingers. Carefully, she rubbed his bear-sized head.

“There we go. I’m glad we can be friends,” she whispered, petting his ears.

He shifted. Leaning against the outside of her leg, he nearly knocked her over.

“Careful, you moose. I think you outweigh me,” Gen giggled, stroking him a few more times before tentatively continuing her tour. The big dog trailed along beside her. She smiled. “What do you know? My first new friend.”

Wandering a little further, she found the beginning of the orchard. Most of the apples had been picked, and the cellar was bursting with barrels of cider and jars full of apple jelly, apple butter, and cinnamon spiced filling that they would make pies, tarts, and cobblers with throughout the winter. While her knowledge of cooking was limited to the basic meat and potatoes, she would match her baking skills up with anyone’s. She hoped Trey had a sweet tooth.

Cupping the front of her coat, she started picking up those she found on the ground that weren’t too far gone. The wind whipped her coat and skirt around. She leaned down to pick up another and stumbled, losing half her load. Muttering words under her breath that were far from lady like, she headed back up to the house. She had seen a stack of bushel baskets in the mudroom off the kitchen. Food was too scarce to let it rot on the ground. What they couldn’t make use of could be fed to the animals.

Stepping in the back door, she dumped the fruit she’d gathered and grabbed a couple of the baskets from the stack. As she turned to go, a pair of boots caught her eye. Too small and narrow to be either of the McCade men’s the leather boots had a very small heel and a tall shaft to them. Setting the baskets aside, she looked around and then shook her head at herself. There was no one around but the dog waiting on the porch. Picking up one of the boots, her hands slid over the supple stamped leather.

Placing it on the floor next to her foot, she sized it up. Looking over her shoulder again, she slipped off her shoe and slid her foot down inside the boot. It fit well with a little wiggle room for heavier socks and tights. The tall boot protected the portion of leg below her full work skirt. Biting her lip, she slid the other boot on and walked around experimentally. They were broke in and very comfortable. What would Trey say if he caught her wearing his deceased wife’s boots? He’d let her use a soft bathrobe that must have been Catherine’s. The boots would be so much warmer and more practical for outdoor work. She chewed her lip and then grabbed up the baskets again. Sometimes it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

It was dark by the time Trey trudged into the kitchen. Tired and hungry, the smell of roasted pork, garlic, and the tang of apples made his mouth water. Without a word, Gen pulled out the chair at the head of the small table and hurried to pour him a cup of coffee. He gave her a weary smile.

“Dinner smells wonderful, darlin'.”

Her face lit up.

“Thank you. I hope it tastes as good as it has smelled all day long. Is Cole coming in?”

“He should be here in a minute,” he said, watching her move effortlessly around the kitchen.

She had a bloom in her cheeks that hadn’t been there this morning. He’d seen a couple baskets of apples when he came in. She’d obviously spent some time outside today. Humming under her breath, she added butter and something he didn’t catch to the potatoes and mashed them. The new figure skimming dress of the other day was gone, replaced by a long skirt and a sweater that was probably a little more practical to the autumn weather and farm life, but he missed the glimpse of her lovely legs. His eyes stopped on her ankles and the familiar soft brown leather covering them. His head cocked to the side.

“Would you like your dinner in the dining room or here in the kitchen?” she asked, scooping the potatoes into a pretty serving bowl. The pan would’ve worked for him.

“Here is fine. I’m dirty and too damn tired to move.”

The back door opened and Cole muttered, “Could you find a more inconvenient place to lay, mutt?” He was forced to step over the dog to get inside. A low rumble came from the animal. 

“Leave him alone. I think he’s guarding my new wife,” Trey said with a small smile.

Gen turned, her smile flashing full force, grey eyes sparkling.

“What is your dog’s name? He scared me half to death when I ran into him, but we made friends and then he followed me the rest of the day. He was good company.”

“Brute, Brutus actually, but I just call him Brute.”

“For obvious reasons,” Cole grumbled, washing up in the mudroom sink. “Trey brought the beast back from Texas when he came. He growls at anyone that isn’t Trey.”

“Once I introduced myself, he didn’t growl at me.”

“Maybe you smell like Trey,” Cole suggested with a sly grin as he strolled into the kitchen drying his hands.

“Don’t make me get up, boy,” Trey rumbled with a sidelong glance at his blushing bride. She’d caught the innuendo.

“There are much worse things to smell like,” she said, setting things on the table and surprising the hell out of him by dropping a kiss on his cheek.

“If you can say that about him right now, its love,” Cole said pulling out a chair and waggling his brows at Trey.

Frowning, he kicked his kid brother under the table. Cole winced and reached to rub at his shin, but there was laughter in his blue eyes.

“Growly ass.”

“Grow up and find some manners before I teach you some.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the platter that made Genevieve’s hands shake as she placed the pork roast on the table, or if his growl was making her nervous, but he laid a gentle hand on her hip to steady her. She smiled down at him.

“Are those Mama’s boots?” Cole asked, straightening from rubbing his leg.

Gen stepped back, her grey eyes wide and mouth open in a soft gasp. Trey nodded, his gaze dropping back to her feet.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea they were your mother’s. I ju—just, I saw them in the mudroom and my shoes are impractical for working outside. I mean as lovely as my shoes are and as much as I appreciate them. I’m sorry. I will take them off right now,” she stuttered, obviously trying desperately not to offend him.

“They look nice on you, darlin'. Mama would’ve been proud,” Trey said, pulling his mind from memories and turning his attention to the table.

“I should have asked. I assumed they were,” she stopped and shook her head. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“You thought they were, Catherine’s?” Cole asked with a snort. “Not a chance that one would have been caught dead in them. There was no country in that girl other than the rare times Trey—”

Trey nailed his brother’s ankle again. Ignoring the gasped curses coming from the moron, Trey motioned his wife to the table.

“They were my mama’s, and it would make her happy to know that you’re wearing them. She was a Texas lady and liked her boots. There are several pair over at the other house. I’ll bring them back when I think about it.”

“If you are sure,” Gen said, her voice still holding a little tremble.

“Mama was a very practical woman. If there is anything of hers that you can make use of, she would like that. You’re a little taller, but of a like build. As to Catherine’s things, I bu—got rid of most of her belongings, but if you find anything it’s yours. Hand me your plate.”

Silence fell over the table after grace, broke only by the scrape of silverware and the soft involuntary murmurs that accompany a delicious meal. It was heaven after a long day.

“This meal hits the spot, Genevieve. Trey hit the jackpot this time, good looks and you can cook.”

Trey sighed. Leave it to Cole to ruin heaven. “Do you want to be able to walk tomorrow?”

The shuffle under the table said he was smart enough to move his legs.

“It was a compliment.”

“Uh, huh,” Trey said, unconvinced. “And Catherine could cook.”

“Funny French frou-frou shit I’d never heard of, and half the time I don’t think it came out the way it was supposed to.”

Trey wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked at his brother.

“I’m tired. I’m hungry. I want a hot shower and a warm bed right now. Keep pushing me because you’re just a few words away from us going outside to settle this.”

The corner of Cole’s mouth turned down in a sulk, and he pushed his food around his plate. When he looked up annoyance firmed his mouth and his shoulders squared, but he turned to Gen.

“My apologies if my humor embarrassed you. I’m not quite as old fashioned as my brother and we butt heads over it sometimes, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful or ungentlemanly. Our mama didn’t raise us that way,” he said softly.

Trey rolled his eyes at the look on his wife’s face. Damn if butter didn’t melt on his brother’s tongue. Gen had swallowed every word, and was gracing him with a smile that lit the room.

“I’m not offended. Growing up in New York I have heard so much worse,” she said, but glanced at Trey when he shifted in his chair. “But it is Trey’s home and you should respect that if you know how he feels.” She glanced back and forth between them. “Your mother must have been so proud to have two such big, strong, handsome sons.”

Trey chuckled. Now it was just getting deep in there. “There are actually three of us, not that the other one is big and strong.”

“Nate’s the daughter Mama never had,” Cole drawled with a laugh.

“You have another brother?” Gen asked, looking a little confused.

“Yeah. Nate lives in Philadelphia. He’s a lawyer,” Trey said, shaking his head. “He’s the pretty one in the family.”

“Prettier than Cole?” 

Cole choked. Trey threw his head back and roared with laughter. Cole’s choking turned into a coughing fit until Trey pounded him on the back and Gen jumped up to get him a glass of water.

“I’m not pretty,” Cole croaked with a baleful glare at them both when they sat back down.

“Daddy thought you were pretty until Nate came along,” Trey chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve heard it before. If he hadn’t trusted Mama so much…,” Cole grumbled leaving the rest of the familiar teasing unsaid.

Gen looked at him with a bemused smile and Trey winked. Tapping the edge of her plate with his fork, he silently urged her to finish eating and took another bite of pork.

Slouched in the swing with his boots resting on the porch railing, Trey enjoyed an after dinner cigarette. The meal had been top notch. Turned out it had been roasted garlic he’d seen her put in the mashed potatoes. It wasn’t something he’d had before, but it was definitely a keeper. If she continued to feed him like that, he was going to put on a gut this winter.

The door opened, and Gen squatted down with scraps for Brute. She stroked the dog’s ears as he lapped up the treat. Trey swallowed the warning he’d been about to issue as she leaned forward and nuzzled the top of the dog’s broad head. Brute’s tail wagged. The mutt seemed as docile as a kitten with her.

“Everything cleaned up?”

She flinched at his voice, straightening hastily and stepping onto the porch.

“Yes, sir.”

He squinted at her in the gloom. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and he patted the seat next to him, wanting her closer so he could tell if it was chill or nerves she was trying to ward off. She perched cautiously on the edge of the swing. He pulled her back into the crook of his arm to share his body heat. She was stiff for a moment and then slowly relaxed against him.

“I’m not your daddy. You don’t need to yes sir me when I ask a question,” he said softly.

“Yes…Trey.”

He chuckled at her catch.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Only when you’re mad.”