Felipe leaned back against the post of the newly repaired corral fence, watching his wife walk toward him. Judging by her grin, Franny was pretty pleased with herself for packing a dinner pail.
“See?” she said, raising it above her head, the sunlight catching dully at the gray tin. “I remembered.”
He smiled. “So you did.”
They had spent the morning more content with each other’s company than they’d ever been. He felt easy in a way he hadn’t in a long while. She’d been easy herself, agreeing readily when he offered to help her—no stubbornness today.
She gave him a wide-open smile as she snapped out the checkered cloth. He wondered what she’d scrounged up to eat, since the larder had been bare when he’d last looked.
This housekeeping problem would need to be solved soon—his clothes might start standing on their own if they weren’t washed. But he wouldn’t force her to do it, not when she hated it so.
“I have cherries”—she pulled them out with a flourish, the fruit blood-red against the pale skin of her palm—“and jerky, and bread with butter.”
“Where did you get bread and butter? I thought we were out.”
She gave him an absurdly exaggerated wink. “I pinched it from my mother’s kitchen yesterday. She won’t miss this.”
He spread a thick layer of butter on a slice of bread and took a bite. “Did you get some tortillas?” he asked around it.
“I didn’t see any. I had to be quick—I didn’t have much time to grab things.”
He handed her a piece of jerky, but she waved it away. “I don’t feel like eating jerky.”
Odd. She wasn’t usually so picky about her food. He took a bite himself. “We can’t keep stealing from your parents. And the laundry needs doing, and the house needs cleaning. Someone’s got to do the housework. Maybe not you,” he added when her expression went mulish, “but someone. And I know less about it than you.”
“I suppose.” She shrugged as if fairies might sneak in and do the housework while they slept. “We could get someone. We’ll hire people to help with the cattle. What’s so different about someone helping with the house?”
“There’s no difference to me, but your sister might have some words on the situation.” Lord help the both of them if Catarina started in about that. “Who would we get?”
She frowned as she nibbled at a piece of bread. “I imagine Gracie Whitman might be eager. I know she’s looking to earn a little bit, given how fond she is of ordering from catalogs. But she hasn’t the patience to be a teacher, and her stitches are too crooked to be a seamstress.”
That didn’t sound promising. “So we’ll have her put her crooked seams in our clothes?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot about your reputation as a man of fashion. Can’t endanger that, now can we?”
He laughed. “Go ahead and hire Gracie then. Although it wouldn’t hurt you any to learn some domestic arts.”
“I’ll learn more when you do.” She gripped a cherry between her teeth, pulling the stem free. The tips of her fingers were stained the same shade of red as her lips.
If he kissed her, she would taste sweet and tart and ruby red. He could lick that juice from her lips and then lay her down and lick—
“Are you all right?” She stared at him, a cherry halfway to her mouth.
He cleared his throat. How might she feel about an afternoon seduction? They were done with the chores for the day…
He pointed to her lips. “You’ve got cherry on your mouth.”
“Oh, do I?” She squeezed the fruit between her fingers until it popped, spraying red across her hand. Then, slow as a too-hot summer afternoon, she lifted those sticky sweet fingers to his face and ran them straight down his cheek.
“Now you’ve got cherry on you too.” She sat back, a dare in the set of her grin.
The trail left by her fingers burned his cheek. She wanted to tease him, did she? He would show her what happened when she teased.
“Do you think you’re being clever?” His growl was only half feigned.
She licked a ribbon of juice from her hand, the sight of the hard pink tip of her tongue sending a pulse straight to his groin. ”No. I think I’m being amusing. I think you want to laugh, but won’t let yourself.” She tilted her head suggestively. “I think you want a little revenge. So what are you going to do?”
“If I told you, it would ruin all my plans.”
Her laugh was as bright as the sunlight gilding her skin. “I like that. Preserving the element of surprise. Very clever.”
She picked up another cherry, oh so slowly popping it between her fingers once more. She raised her hand with deliberation, not bothering to hide her intentions, and swiped him across the other cheek.
“That was inspiration. For your revenge.” She stuck her finger in her mouth, all delicious impertinence.
He tensed as he prepared to jump to his feet, but tried to keep from giving himself away. If she had a head start, there’d be no catching her. He watched her, and she watched him. As he wound tighter and tighter, she went looser and looser.
Finally, when she appeared lulled enough, he leapt.
Not quick enough. Before he was upright, she was running away, squealing with a kind of pleased terror.
“Get back here,” he huffed as he reached for the back of her skirt. But she only laughed and put on a fresh burst of speed.
Damn, but she was fast.
The oak tree reared into sight, gnarled branches stretching for the sky, heavy with verdant leaves.
He knew exactly why she’d headed this way and what she had planned. He’d have to catch her before she reached that tree. He pushed himself harder, coming within arm’s reach of her, straining his hand. Almost. Almost there.
His fingertips brushed the heavy fabric of her split skirt—but closed on nothing.
She scrambled up the oak, nimble as a cat and laughing with breathless amusement.
The sunlight stippled as it made its way through the leaves of the tree, the wind pushing leaves and light into a subtle dance. She settled several feet above him, comfortable as could be. Her feet swung free as she straddled a branch, one arm bracing her against the rough-barked trunk.
“Cheater,” he accused.
Her laugh danced down to him as languidly as the sunlight did. “You could climb up too.”
“And break my neck? No thank you. Come on down.” He set his palm against the trunk, the ridges of bark biting into his skin.
He wasn’t afraid for her.
He might have been, once, but the easiness of the morning lingered within him. She was an accomplished tree climber; she’d gone up safe and she’d come down the same.
“Why do you want me to come down?” She kicked her foot, and from this angle he could see the curve of her calf just above where her boot ended, an arc of muscle that faded into the darkness gathered at her knee. “Are you going to spank me?”
Heat spread across his skin, followed by a wash of anticipation that raised gooseflesh. For years, he’d threatened that she needed a swat, usually after she’d done some fool thing to injure herself.
Things were different between them now, the air charged not with platonic frustration, but rather erotic potential.
He pressed his palm deeper into the trunk. “Do you want me to?”
There was no answer save for the swing of her foot, a slow, steady pulse in time with the thrum of the blood in his ears.
Perhaps she too was thinking of all the possibilities—of her stretched across his knee, her head turned to give him a long slow look as he ran his hand along her bared bottom—
A rattle.
From the ground by his feet, not more than a few feet away.
His heart lurched when he found it. Ugly, long, and nearly as thick as his wrist, the snake was obviously an old-timer, given the number of rattles at the end of its tail. Its head swayed as the forked tongue tested the air, trying to decide if danger was close.
Thank God she was in the tree. She was safe. For once, her impulsiveness was to her benefit.
But the dogs. Where were the dogs? The last thing he needed was for one of them to tangle with this rattler.
The snake rattled again, no doubt sensing Felipe’s nearness. The thing began to uncurl, stretching toward him.
His mind went blank, his skin washed with a clammy chill.
But she was safe. No matter what happened to him, she was safe.
The snake’s tongue tested the air, the rest of it as frozen as Felipe was, the both of them waiting for the other to make a move.
There was no noise or movement from the tree above him.
Finally, finally, the snake turned and headed deeper into the brush, away from Felipe.
He kept still as stone for several moments longer to be certain. When his muscles began to ache with the effort, he let himself relax. The snake wasn’t coming back.
No noise from her. He looked above him and sighed.
Franny was rigid as a statue, her face white as fresh snow and her hands so tight on the tree the bones of her knuckles were stark under her skin.
“You can come down,” he called, keeping his voice light. “The snake’s gone.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m not going to spank you.” Perhaps laughter could snap her out of it.
Still no movement.
“Franny.” He made her name sharp, hoping to wake her from this spell. “Come down. I can’t climb up to get you.”
For once, he found himself wishing for her fearlessness to reassert itself. He didn’t want to have to tell her that he knew she was afraid.
Her hand slid a little higher up the trunk. She wasn’t coming down, but at least she was no longer frozen. “In a minute,” she said in a small voice.
He pulled at his mustache. He had to get her down somehow. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he finally said. “I know you’re scared of snakes.”
She craned her head to look at him. “No one knows that,” she said, her voice regaining its snap.
That was better. “You hide it well,” he allowed.
“Then how do you know?”
“I’ve watched you around them. You try to be brave, but it’s clear you’re terrified inside.”
She turned her head to study the bark under her hand. “It’s a silly thing,” she said in a low voice, “to be scared of snakes. I should be braver.”
This timidity, this embarrassment—it didn’t sit well on her. He wanted her boldness back. “You’re plenty brave. You should be less brave—it will make you less reckless.”
Her chin tilted toward him, and he caught a glimpse of a smile before it dropped from her lips. “Do you think anyone else knows?”
He shook his head. “Only me.”
She leaned over the branch, his heart giving a little buck as she did. But she wasn’t in danger of falling and she wasn’t frozen in fear. Thank God. “How did you figure it out when no one else did?”
Because I notice everything about you. I can’t help it.
Too close to a declaration of love, admitting that. He wasn’t ready. “Just smarter than everyone else, I suppose,” he said lightly.
“I doubt that.” The teasing note had returned. She finally began to climb down, and in a short time she was hanging from the lowest branch, her feet dangling just above the ground. She landed as soft and easy as a cat when she let go.
But she was too pale and her forehead was damp with nervous perspiration.
The lingering evidence of her scare shook him. He held out his hand. “Come on.”
“Are you certain it’s gone?” The hand she placed in his was clammy and trembling.
He pulled her closer. “I wouldn’t have called you down if I weren’t. Let’s get you into the house and put a cool cloth on your head.”
She followed him meekly, her hand never leaving his. He felt as if he were towing along some mute version of her—it unsettled him. Perhaps her shock hadn’t entirely worn off.
When they arrived back at the house, he took her straight to his bedroom. Although after the events of last night, he supposed it was their bedroom.
She lay down, mild as a dove, letting him put a wet cloth on her forehead without a breath of protest. He sat next to her, watching her. She stared back just as intently, curled around her belly the slightest bit, like the curve of a green shoot looking for sunshine.
“Feel better?” he asked after a while.
She nodded, then reached up to trail a fingertip along his cheek, right where she had put the cherry juice.
“I marked you,” she said.
She had.
It was all that he had ever feared, this woman wending her way into his heart and leaving grooves on his soul. But he didn’t know how to stop it.
She pulled the rag from her head and wiped along his cheek, the cloth now warm from her skin.
He caught at her wrist. “It’s too late,” he whispered. He’d been lying to himself since their wedding—there had never been the chance of rescue from how he felt for her.
”Too late for what?” she asked just as softly.
To love you.
“Promise me you won’t ever leave.” He might risk it, might tell her—if only she would never leave.
“Where would I go?” She brought her free hand up to cup his other cheek. “I want to be here, with you.”
She might not have a choice in the matter. Fate might snatch her away, against both their wills. And how would he survive the long years of knowing she was lost to him forever?
He tightened his grip on her wrist. “Promise me.” He needed her vow, if only to anchor him in the chaos enfolding him.
She pulled his face toward hers. “I swear.” And then she was kissing him.
It was slow and soft. All the things she usually wasn’t.
It was also delightful and dear. All the things she was.
He lowered himself to the bed, determined to take his time, to let the sensations drip like molasses, rather than the heated rush of their first encounter. She wound her arms around his neck, angling herself so that her mouth was fully open under his. Cherries and Franny filled his senses.
“Help me get you undressed,” he said against her mouth.
“I thought you were experienced in this, with all your knowledge of preventatives.” She rolled off the bed and began peeling off her layers.
She just couldn’t help being cheeky, could she? He swatted at her bottom, his blood heating at the contact. And at the memory of their chase. “Sassy,” he chided her. He lay back, hands behind his head, enjoying the show.
She tossed aside her shirt first, with a singular lack of grace that was more arousing than any slow tease could ever be. She wore a thin chemise beneath, so thin it left nothing to the imagination, her dark nipples standing out in stark relief.
He was going to take his time with those, until she was screaming under his mouth.
She pushed down her skirt next, leaving only her chemise and drawers. And stopped. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”
He shook his head. “I’m enjoying this too much.”
She set her hands on her hips. “I would remind you that this is a mercantile marriage. I’m not taking off another thing until I get something in return.”
Oh, he would show her what happened when she sassed him. He sat up and fastened his mouth on one of those nipples of hers, right through the fabric.
She moaned and grasped at his hair, thrusting more of her into his mouth. He flicked the nipple with his tongue, feeling it firm under the onslaught. Her nails dug sweetly into his scalp and he kissed his way up her bosom, stopping at the boundary of her throat.
“Was that payment enough?” he asked against the pulse leaping beneath her skin.
She pulled his head back and tipped his face up to hers. “I never knew you were such a wicked man.” Her grin was unrepentant. “I like it.”
“Hold on,” he warned. “There’s more. Lots more.”
“I know that. We’ve done this before.”
He shook his head. “This won’t be like that first time. It will be better. I promise.”
“Better? Will you do that thing you mentioned this morning?” Her eyes darkened. “Show me better. Take off your clothes.”
He couldn’t help his grin. “Yes, Señora.”
He did just as she ordered as she finished stripping down to nothing.
When they were both naked, he tugged her toward him, admiring the heady vitality of her. Her skin was smooth and warm as he trailed his fingers down her sides. She squirmed and kicked and giggled in their wake.
“That tickles,” she protested.
Of course Franny would need a stronger grip than that. What had he been thinking? He lowered his head back to those tempting breasts of hers, enjoying the taste and smell without the barrier of the fabric. He nibbled along the underside of one breast before doing the same to the other.
Her eyes were half closed, her head tipped back—the very picture of indolent. It must feel good if it had her looking so.
He slid his mouth down the flatness of her belly, thanking God they had the preventatives and he would never have to see it swell with a baby. She would always be young and strong and invincible, never worn out by time and too many pregnancies.
He dipped his tongue into her navel as he passed by, her hips twisting as he did so. Such a fierce little thing, lulled to tameness under his mouth. But he was going to use that mouth to drive her wild.
He kissed around the frontier of her curls, sliding down and around to taste the silk of her inner thigh, the scent of her surrounding him, invading him. His hands caught at her knees, opening up that most secret part of her to him. And she—dear, sweet, infuriating Franny—didn’t protest, or question, or hesitate. She followed with that perfect trust.
Time for her reward.
He placed an openmouthed kiss right at the heart of her, the taste of her exploding on his tongue. A sigh rippled from her to dance across his senses, her hips lifting to meet his mouth. He used his teeth, tongue, and lips to sting and then soothe, holding nothing back, the writhing of her hips and her sweet moans showing him the way in this new frontier of desire. She lost even the few inhibitions she had, her limbs possessed by pleasure, her moans fading into his name, begging him…
He pressed forward, knowing she was close. A lick here, a kiss there—
“Oohhh,” she cried, the last of it ending up muffled.
He raised his head and couldn’t hold back his savage smile at the sight of her. Her back was arched straight off the bed and her fist was stuffed between her teeth to catch her moans.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she yelled around that fist. Eventually she came back to herself, her eyes slowly fluttering open, now almost black with bleary pleasure.
He pulled her hand into his, rubbing his thumb across the bite marks she’d left. “You don’t have to be quiet, you know. No one can hear you.”
“Oh, I didn’t do it because of that.” Her voice was breathless with her release. “I just had to.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her wounds. “Poor baby.”
She raised herself onto her elbows. “Why didn’t we do that the first time?” Her voice went low and solemn. “We should do that every time.”
He laughed. “Whatever my lady wishes.” He’d be happy to, considering how wild it made her.
She trailed a hand along his chest, a teasing tilt to her lips. “And what does my lord wish?”
Her lord. As if a mere mortal like himself could be superior to a goddess like her.
He could think of a few things this mortal might like to try with a goddess. He pulled her atop him, her thighs coming to grip him tight and hold the damp heat of her hard against his belly.
She braced her hands against his chest, giving him a lovely view of the underside of her bosom. It’d be a taste of heaven, to thrust up into her like this, to have her ride him to completion.
But he had to be careful with her. Had to keep her safe. “I want to do something without risk.”
She understood instantly. “Hmm.” She tapped at her chin, charmingly pensive. “I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
She slid down until her sex was pressed against his penis, then moved against him.
He released a gasping hiss at the sensation.
“Like that?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He grabbed at her hips, pulling her along his length. Her head lolled back as she rolled her pelvis into his. They moved along each other again and again, catching the rhythm. With each thrust, her sex grew wetter and hotter against his, feeding the delicious pressure building in him.
Her nails bit into his chest, her fingers curling into the hair there as her moans grew longer, the motion of her hips more insistent. She was close, and he was coming right along behind her.
She looked more like a goddess than ever, riding him to his release. Her thighs quivered and her hips jerked as she came, sounds of pleasure spilling from her lips.
His climax came hard on the heels of hers, his seed coating their bellies, both of them moaning and shuddering in shared completion.
She sagged against him, her breathing almost as ragged as his. They lay together, sweat-slick and pleasure-drained.
She trailed a hand along his arm. “No risk. Not a bit.”
No, there hadn’t been. At least not any physical risk.
She settled in next to him, tucking her head beneath his chin. To hold her like this, the both of them satisfied—comforted—it made him almost believe.
Almost believe that he could believe in a bright, happy future. One where he was always by her side.
Franny awoke the next morning entangled in Felipe.
There really wasn’t any other word for it. They were both on their sides, neither one atop the other, their limbs as entwined as the roots of two trees.
Even after a full—well, half—night’s sleep, she felt wrung out, sated and slothful. Which she almost never felt.
But they couldn’t lie about all day. There was stock to feed and water. Something had to be done about the housekeeping. And the water trough in the south pasture would have to be repaired before they could put cattle out there to graze.
But first, she would savor being in his arms. He smelled warmly sleepy, and her hair had ensnared him almost as much as herself.
When his eyes finally opened, he gave her a lazy smile, one that made her heart creak. She couldn’t help but to kiss him.
“Good morning,” he said when they came up for air. He gave a resigned sigh. “It’s late. We ought to be getting up.”
“True.” She threaded her fingers through his chest hair. “Unless…”
He raised his eyebrows. “Unless what?”
Oh, this was fun, teasing him in bed. She’d have to do it every morning. “Unless…” She trailed her hand down his belly, the skin warm and taut. “If we’re quick?”
He grinned at her. “Shall we race?”
She didn’t bother to answer, simply wrapped her fingers around his cock and began to stroke. If she was going to play, she was going to play to win.
He reached a hand between her thighs, finding that sweet spot and mercilessly teasing it.
In the end, panting and damp and laughing, they agreed it had been a tie.
“Although you cheated,” he said, giving a strand of her hair a gentle tug. “You started before I said go.”
She trailed a hand along the ridge of his shoulder, quite pleased with herself. “I didn’t hear you complain. You have to call foul before the finish, otherwise it doesn’t count.”
He laughed—a rich, warm ring of a laugh, one that wrapped completely around her. One that was as comforting as his arms were.
He gave a smile to everyone, but that laugh… She’d never heard it before.
Which meant that it was her laugh. And a laugh all her own was much better than a smile he gave to everyone.