Authors: Sarah McCarty
She didn’t fight him; just stood there stiffly in his arms, her slight body trembling with nearly imperceptible shivers that gnawed at his conscience. “Sure enough, I’ve got a dark side.”
No answer. He held her until her breath slowed and the tension left her muscles. He brushed his lips across her hair. “From here on out, you have my word, I’ll do my best to control it.”
If it killed him, he’d control it. A log popped in the stove. She jumped.
“This is not how I pictured my wedding night, you know.”
Still no response. “I figured there’d be a big celebration, and I’d have to steal my bride away.” He stroked his hand down her back, slipping his fingers under the braid, finding the hollow in her spine and nestling into the curve. “She’d be nervous, but eager. I’d be eager and nervous.”
His description wasn’t that far off from what had happened. He cupped her head in his palm as she drew a shuddering breath.
“You were right about one thing, though.” She didn’t look up, as he expected. “I did let your previous experience color my thinking. It wasn’t disrespect, but I did move faster than I should, because I figured it was familiar territory for both of us.”
So he hadn’t stressed finesse; hadn’t given her what every woman deserved. A night to remember. The guilt of that would haunt him forever. He kissed the top of her head.
“You had a right to bite, sweetheart. Every woman deserves to see the tender side of her husband when he comes to her.”
The shudder that ran through her on her next breath lashed him raw. A fine husband he’d turned out to be. “I’m not sure how much tender I have left in me, Gypsy, but I promise you, from here on out, you’re going to experience it.”
The tension seeped from her muscles in increments. He didn’t know if the relaxation came from exhaustion or surrender. He could force her to look at him, but there’d been enough force between them. She could have knocked him down with a feather when her hands touched his hips and then his waist, before wrapping around his back.
“I don’t want to wait.”
She didn’t make a lick of sense. “Look at me, Desi.”
When she did, there was nothing in her expression to soothe his nerves. Just layers and layers of pain. Older, old and new. And no denying the newest level was his creation.
He touched the trail of tears on her cheek. He’d made her cry. “Goddamn, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and bit her lip. “It’s my fault.”
“How do you figure that?”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “I shouldn’t have bitten you.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Her knuckles pressed into his back. “You were only taking what was yours.”
Taking. Yeah, he’d been doing that. “As out of line as I was, I’m lucky you just bit me.”
She stilled. “You’re not angry?”
“Only at myself.”
She braced her hand on his chest, placing her fingers one by one against his shirt, as if the proper alignment were critical to making her point. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“Then you won’t have to.”
“I can’t promise not to anger you though. Sometimes…”
Her nails bit through his shirt. He touched her shoulder, her back, the thick quilt keeping him from the contact he desired. “What?”
It came out on a hoarse whisper. “I’m just so afraid. All the time, I’m afraid. I can’t sleep for nightmares, can’t be awake without remembering, reliving…” She shrugged. “I can’t do anything without the past closing in.”
He hadn’t helped, expecting their marriage to put it all behind them, for her past experiences to give him a pass on all the niceties a man gave his wife. “Desi—”
The shake of her head cut him off. “This is my last chance. I know what I have to do. It’s just—”
He cut her off. “Hard.”
She didn’t act as though she heard him. “I just need you to understand—things happen inside me sometimes.”
She’d been abused, no matter how well she covered it, she was off balance and afraid and his pushing was just throwing her back into the helpless fear. “I understand.”
She took a deep breath and moved those fingers a fraction wider, once again focusing on the precise alignment. “I want this marriage.”
He wrapped the thick braid of her hair around his fist, keeping her gaze locked to his. “And you think I don’t?”
She shook her head, whether negating his interruption or his wanting of the marriage, he didn’t know. Her other hand came to join the first, pressing against his chest. “I understand what you want from me. I just need a little time.”
He didn’t think she understood anything beyond the reality as a married woman, she had more status than a whore, even if her husband, in her eyes, still treated her as one. To her, that was still better than the alternative. It took him a minute to find an argument for the certainty she held dear—that it was all up to her.
“Desi, did your mother teach you that your husband is responsible for caring for his wife?”
Wariness entered her gaze. “Yes.”
“Then it follows what went wrong tonight is my fault.”
“You just wanted a kiss. I’ve done it a hundred times—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.
He didn’t let his rage at the thought flow. “The difference was tonight you felt safe enough with me to put up a protest.” He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear, smiling as it immediately popped out, doing what it wanted, despite his wishes. “That’s not a bad foot to start a marriage on.”
Her gaze flicked his. “I hurt you.”
“I deserved it for being an ass.”
Her mouth opened and closed. Her hands fisted. “You weren’t trying to hurt me.”
“Doesn’t matter what I was trying for, it only matters what I accomplished.” He let the hair go where it wanted. “And, sweetheart, I get the impression I’ve been hurting you pretty regular like.” She didn’t deny it. “Haven’t I?”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t adjust to.”
“Now there’s a statement to make a man wince.”
“You asked.” She pushed against his chest.
“No need to get your feathers in a twist. That was directed at me, not you.” It was amazingly easy to keep her put. “Tell me something though, why’d you do it?”
“I wanted to hurt you.”
He leaned back to get a look at her face. “That was your way of fighting?”
“Yes.”
Everything about her was tiny and small, delicate, and her idea of getting an edge on a man was to get close enough to bite his cock? “Gypsy, we have got to teach you to fight.”
“I told you, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“I don’t particularly want to fight with you, either, but I suspect I’m not going to get a wink of sleep until I know you have a better way of dealing should there ever be a need.”
“My way works fine.”
“Your way keeps you too close.” He circled her arm with his fingers. “There’s not enough muscle on you to go up against any man over the age of eight.”
She jerked out of his embrace, coming down on her left foot and wincing. “I am not weak.”
He steadied her with a hand to her arm. “It wasn’t an insult.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I wasn’t aware you were looking for pretty words.”
“You don’t seem to be aware of anything except rutting when it comes to me.”
She had him there. “You’re right.”
He let her go, allowing her arm to feed through his grip until he could catch her hand. Her gaze jerked to his, apprehension shadowing every nuance of her posture. He wanted to pull her close and tell her she never had to be afraid again. Except that this time, he was the one who’d instilled the fear. He settled for rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, and then sighed. “Which is why, starting now, we’re going to start this marriage over.”
“Y
our husband wants you.”
She wished. Desi pushed the hair out of her face with the back of her hand. She gave the shirts in the laundry kettle another stir with the wooden paddle, suppressing a moan as her overworked muscles burned at the exertion. “For what?”
Tia held out her hand for the paddle. “You will have to ask him.”
She would if she wasn’t afraid of the answer. Since the evening of their fight over a week ago, Caine hadn’t wanted her physically, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d somehow ruined things. If Caine threw her out, she had nowhere to go, and Tracker probably wouldn’t look for her sister. She couldn’t let that happen. Ari depended on her.
Desi tightened her grip on the paddle. “Caine wants me to learn to do this.”
“He does not expect you to try to learn everything at once.”
Probably not. The man didn’t seem to have very high expectations regarding her. Since the night he’d said they were going to start over, he’d been distant; watching her but not approaching. As if he knew it was only a matter of time until she disappointed him again. And that bothered her almost as much as the thought of disappointing her sister. “I can work a bit longer.”
Tia’s hand didn’t drop, but she did point. “Maybe, but your husband wants you now for other things.”
She turned to see Caine leading a placid-looking horse to the hitching post in front of the house. There couldn’t have been a bigger study in contrasts. Caine, who moved with that fluid grace so innate to the Hell’s Eight men, and the horse that plodded along as if courting sleep with every step.
There was only one reason Caine would be dragging hundreds of pounds of lazy horseflesh to the hitching post. “So I see.”
Desi wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a week, but instead she was going to walk over to that huge horse, grit her teeth and try to prove to the world that the animal didn’t terrify her, that she could do the simplest thing like swing her leg over the horse’s back and get in the saddle without needing a mounting block or a leg up—Caine’s first goal for her.
She’d rather be nibbled to death by ducks.
She grabbed her coat and pulled it on. The wet hem of her skirt slapped against her calves as she crossed the yard. Sweat chilled on her skin as the cool wind blew across her temples. Caine watched her the whole way. She couldn’t see his eyes because of the hat, but she could feel the intensity. Men stopped their work to watch. Instead of earning respect with her continued efforts, she was becoming a source of entertainment as the men bet on how long it would take her to mount on her own, and how long it would take her to give up. She was not giving up.
As soon as she got close enough, she asked, “Anyone betting on me making it today?”
Caine didn’t answer immediately, just ran his gaze over her. She didn’t think he missed a thing, from the unhooked button on her boots to the sweat at her temples. She was a mess, inside and out. Her mother would have been appalled, but there was an odd sort of balance in her outside matching her inside for once, so he’d just have to take her as she was.
“Just one.”
She stopped ten feet from the horse. She didn’t like the way its ear twitched. “I guess that’s a step up from zero.”
“You’re wearing them down.”
Her back spasmed in a rolling wave. She took a breath and held it until the pain passed. “Just not in the way I’d imagined.”
His posture changed infinitesimally. A tip of his head and then she caught the glitter of green.
“You feeling poorly?”
Not for all the tea in
China
would she admit she was on her last leg. “I’m fine.”
If she kept saying it, eventually it would be true.
“Uh-huh.” Another of those pauses that made her uncomfortable, and then Caine motioned to the horse. “You can’t mount from over there.”
“I’m aware of that.” She just couldn’t get her feet to move forward.
“Lily’s getting impatient.”
Lily hadn’t done a thing but twitch her ear since arriving at the post, which should have eased her mind, but she didn’t trust the horse and couldn’t get rid of the impression that it was just waiting for the opportunity to send her tumbling. “She’ll get past it.”
“There’s no need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“No need to lie, either.”
Since she couldn’t deny lying, she settled for glaring.
“You rode that paint easy enough,” Caine pointed out.
She’d been in an “I’m dead anyway” state of mind then, terrified and desperate, running on fear and half-baked notions, but now, if she could convince Caine she wasn’t worthless, she might have something to live for and might have a chance to find her sister. That was a heck of a lot to lose. She eyed the mare’s one blue eye. “He didn’t have a mean eye.”
He patted the horse’s neck. “Ah, Lily’s watch-eyed, but she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
Just then Lily stomped her foot and snorted. “So you say.”
“She’s the most placid horse on Hell’s Eight.”
That statement, as far as Desi could see, didn’t mean much. Most of the animals here were wild terrors of flashing hooves and snapping teeth. How Caine expected to turn them into cavalry mounts she had no idea, but he hadn’t batted an eye when he’d told her his intent. She cut him another glare as he observed her approach, no expression on his face. Part of his training techniques probably involved staring them into submission.