Devils on Horseback: Lee, Book 4 (4 page)

“I am?” Sophie’s tone was full of shock. “Mama usually tells me I’m wrong.”

Genny grimaced, knowing that was a true statement. The girl usually had the craziest notions and she had to keep her feet on the ground. Dreaming and wishing weren’t going to get her anywhere in life. Genny’s life had gone completely sideways and she was determined her daughter would have better.

Pasting on a smile, Genny cleared her throat and walked toward them with enough noise they could hear her coming. No need letting him know she’d been spying on them, or rather eavesdropping. Some habits were hard to break, and she was no saint with her overabundance of flaws and vices. God gave her what He thought she needed and there was no changing it.

“I thought y’all might be thirsty.” Genny’s hand started to cramp from carrying the bucket. It was heavy but if she were honest with herself, she had been gripping it too tightly. Another sign that Lee put her off balance.

As she walked toward them she avoided looking into the stalls—the smell told the story quite clearly. Lee and Sophie were down toward Ned’s current stall, a wheelbarrow behind them mounded with horse shit and hay, some of which looked like it had white and green fur growing on it. Genny bit back the urge to make a face at what she’d allowed to happen to her barn.

Lee was looking down at the pitchfork, turning it back and forth in his hand while Sophie peered up at him with her brow furrowed. Neither one of them acknowledged her.

“Hello? Water?”

This time he must’ve actually heard her because his head snapped up and his gaze slammed into hers like a bullet. His brown eyes were full of pain and pride—a dangerous combination, one Genny knew too well.

“Thirsty?” she asked with forced cheer. Without waiting for a response, she brought the bucket over to him and set it on the floor. Glancing at his threadbare pants and noting they would be the first to get burned, she filled the dipper and held it up to him.

“I’m much obliged, Miz Blanchard.” The sweet southern drawl fell so easily from his tongue, she wasn’t sure it was as sweet as it sounded.

He brought the dipper to his mouth and Genny froze in place, mesmerized by the play of muscles, skin and lips as Lee drank the cool well water. As he tilted the dipper, drops ran out the sides of his mouth, then slowly dripped onto his chest.

She wanted to lick them off.

Damp blond curls peeped out from the opening in his shirt. The smell of the barn faded away as the scent of a man washed over her. She wasn’t one to lose her head over a working man, or any man for that matter, but there was something about Lee that plucked her strings.

“Much obliged.”

Genny realized he was holding the dipper out to her and she was standing there like an idiot. “Th-hanks. I mean, you’re welcome.” She threw the dipper back into the bucket at her feet, splashing water on both of them.

Jesus Lord, have mercy! Did she have even an ounce of grace around this man? When she peered up at his face, Genny swore his mouth twitched in a smile or maybe even a laugh.

“I’m sorry, Lee, I didn’t—”

“What happened to calling me Mr. Blackwood?” This time there was no humor in his voice. It was low and sexy, a bedroom voice that raised an army of goose bumps up and down her skin.

Without thought, likely a good thing, Genny swayed toward him, pulled by whatever attraction drew them together. It was an elemental connection, something that felt as old as a river and as impossible to control. His nostrils flared as if he’d scented her as well. She felt like a bitch in heat.

Her breath came out in short bursts; she couldn’t suck in enough air to fill her lungs. When she came within six inches of him, she could see just how beautiful his eyes were. A dark brown, they also had gold flecks embedded in them. Lee was like a secret mine in a mountain, rich with treasure but difficult to reach without tools and a hell of a lot of work.

Genny didn’t seem to care about any impediments or even the fact she was about to kiss a man who was also her employee. Her eyes drifted closed as the heat from Lee’s body permeated hers, raising her temperature too.

“Mama, I’m building a harness for Mr. Blackie.” Sophie’s voice was more shocking than if someone had thrown the bucket of water on Genny.

Judging by the startled way Lee stepped back a foot away from her, it was just as shocking to him. What the hell had she been thinking?

“Blackwood, honey.” Genny didn’t like the way she sounded raspier than usual, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it without the aid of that cold water.

“So I told him he needed a harness like Ned.” Sophie held up some old traces from Ned’s former companion horse, Eloise. “Can’t we make these into somethin’?”

Genny turned to Lee and tried to gauge his reaction to the suggestion. He shifted his weight and stared back at her with an intensity that saluted the goose-bump army.

“We can try if that’s what Lee, I mean, Mr. Blackwood wants.”

“What I want doesn’t mean spit.” He nodded toward Sophie. “The girl had a good idea so just do it.”

Genny had no idea how to take tack from an old horse and transform it into something a man with one arm could use, but she was willing to try. Heck, she could sew anything, why not use that skill to make something that might help Lee. Perhaps she could even use material from Henry’s old coat or maybe his canvas trousers. The possibilities for a woman with a sharp needle were endless, particularly if it was going to make his work easier.

She didn’t think about the fact she’d have to be physically close to him to make the harness, or rather she kicked it to the back of her mind. A seamstress was a professional and didn’t get distracted by the body in front of her.

Genny had all she could do not to snort. Distraction was the least of her worries—attraction was the biggest. Lee could have her in his bed in five minutes if he asked her. She wouldn’t offer herself up to him, but if he did the asking, she knew for certain there would be no contemplation. There would only be action and reaction. Genny swallowed hard and willed her heart to stop beating as if she was in Lee’s bed already.

Good God, had she no shame? Was she that much like her mother? Hopefully the answer to that was no. The last thing she wanted was to be a woman who gave up everything, including her life, for a man.

Genny took the traces from Sophie, surprised the small girl had carried the heavy leather and metal. “I will probably need to take some measurements from you although I’m pretty certain I already know how big you are.”

This time, his mouth not only twitched, it formed a full-blown grin. Like a little boy who’d heard a naughty joke, or a man who’d just discovered a woman found him handsome as sin. In this case, possibly both.

Her own lips wanted to smile back at him, but she wouldn’t allow herself that luxury. Lee was an employee, he worked for her, therefore she shouldn’t even contemplate kissing him much less measuring the length of his dick.

That didn’t stop her from wondering about it though.

She gestured toward the bucket. “I’ll leave the water for you and, uh, get started on the harness. When you come in for supper, I’ll take some measurements.”

Genny backed away, the weight of the leather dragging her hands down. Lee watched her, reminding her of a great cat observing his prey trying to hide. That thought made her stop in her tracks.

She was not anyone’s prey and she had to stop thinking of Lee as a predator. When she looked at him, really looked at him, she could see the frustration and pain on his face from the menial task made a million times harder because of his lack of two hands. Genny’s imagination had conjured up bad intentions, something bound to make her run. When would she learn to trust her eyes instead of her memories?

“You all right, Miz Blanchard?” Lee frowned. “You’re not going to have a fit of vapors or anything, are you?”

His question knocked the strangeness from the situation and prompted a snort to pop out of Genny. “Not hardly. Just feeling the heat, I guess.” With a smile and a lighter heart, she turned to go. “I’ll give y’all a shout when it’s close to supper.”

As she walked toward the barn door, she began chastising herself for being such a complete idiot. Lee’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Miz Blanchard?”

She spoke without looking back. “Yes?”

“I, uh, thanks for, uh, working on the harness.” His voice sounded strained as if expressing gratitude was something he didn’t do often. It didn’t surprise her; he didn’t seem the type to say thank you easily. It meant, however, that he really was grateful.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Blackwood. I am happy to do it.” And she was, truly she was. Lee’s help in getting the crop in was all that stood between her and starvation.

A little voice deep inside her reminded her that she was doing it for selfish reasons, using him for her own means. The stark truth, of course. She’d do anything she could to save the farm and her daughter. Her attraction to the man was of no consequence and would go no farther than her mind’s meanderings.

It was a promise, or rather a vow, she made to herself as she went back to the house to make a harness for her employee.

* * * * *

Lee heard Genevieve call him over the roaring in his ears. Exhaustion from working all afternoon had crept up on him, draining his energy until he was forcing himself to continue. The girl had given up two hours earlier and he encouraged her to go. The little thing was no bigger than a minute and couldn’t work for six hours in a hot barn with moldy horse shit.

She had gumption, smarts and a tongue as sharp as his was. Sophie was going to make some man crazy when she grew up. That was a certainty.

“Ready for supper?” The imp appeared at his elbow without making a sound. He had all he could do not to jump a foot in the air.

Lee set the pitchfork against the stall wall, annoyed to see his hand shaking. “I’m dirtier than he—than a pig in a wallow.”

“Mama set out some soap for you by the well pump.” She peered at his face. “You’re all red.”

“I’m hot and tired, brat.” He straightened, the muscles in his back screaming or perhaps crying at the movement. “Show me where the pump is.”

“I ain’t a brat.” Nose in the air she led him out of the barn and around the side of the house. “Well’s over yonder.” She pointed to the right. “Mama’s expecting you in ten minutes.”

Sophie stormed off before Lee could even manage to say thanks, not that he would have anyway. The little thing needed a full-fledged soak in a hot tub to get rid of the snarls in the bird’s nest she called her hair, and the dirt was permanently embedded on that neck, of that he was certain.

He wasn’t one for long soaks, but a hot bath sounded pretty heavenly right about then. For most of his life, Lee was always busy doing something. He could never sit still for very long and found things to keep him occupied. Even after the war, when he was still getting used to one arm, he worked as hard as the rest of his friends at whatever shit job they happened to snag.

Yet ever since they finished the restaurant a year or so ago, he’d done nothing more than cook on occasion and do the accounting books, and sometimes ride. Working in the Blanchards’ barn for half a day reminded him in no uncertain terms that he’d been sitting on his ass for too long. Lee was sorer than he ever remembered being in his life.

Shambling along like a sixty-four-year-old man instead of a twenty-four-year-old man, he found the well pump near the far corner of the house. Beside it was a crate turned on end with a bar of soap, a ratty-looking but clean towel, and what appeared to be new clothes.

It was the clothes that made his throat close up unexpectedly.

The shirt was a sky blue color, with tight, even stitches and a pocket on either breast. Shiny buttons that matched winked in the fading sunlight. The trousers were canvas made soft by many washings, but the stitching was impeccable and the buttons perfectly aligned.

Genevieve had done this. She’d made him new clothes—and not just the shirt he’d seen her stitching when he first arrived at the farm. It had been so very long since anyone had gone out of their way to make something for him and only him.

She couldn’t have known he would arrive at the farm, yet she had started altering the clothes. Maybe he wanted to believe she hoped he would come. In the time he’d been there she finished the clothes and gifted them to him. To
him
.

Lee squatted beside the crate and pressed his forehead into the cool metal of the pump head. He swallowed twice to dislodge the lump in his throat. All his life, he’d been second or third on everyone’s priorities, except for his mother’s. She smothered him so much he couldn’t breathe so he pushed her away. Zeke had even abandoned him when their father took ill, leaving Lee alone for years. Since no one seemed to give a shit what he did, he just did what he wanted and lived down to everyone’s expectations.

That kind of choice had been his downfall in the war, the reason he’d lost his arm. Some would call him reckless and willful, and right about then he’d have agreed with them. He’d spent so much time being angry at the world, at God, and at everyone around him, Lee had passed up most chances at happiness. He was surprised how much his friends had put up with.

Fact was, he kept people at a distance to keep himself safe. Genny had just put a huge dent in the wall around him. Jesus, she’d even pinned up the left sleeve already.

He hung his head in shame as grief welled inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. The simple gesture by a not-so-simple woman had affected him greatly, more than he’d want her to know. Lee squeezed his eyes shut and tears burned the back of his lids. He concentrated on breathing in and out, until his emotions were slammed back behind the door inside his heart, until he felt more in control of himself.

As he rose to his feet and began stripping off his clothes, Lee reminded himself that his own sweat paid for those clothes and the gift was nothing more than payment for a job, whether or not it was well done.

Chapter Four

Genny had seen a lot of sights in her life, even naked men. Growing up in New Orleans gave her a bird’s-eye view of things most folks wouldn’t want to see. Her mother, Camille, had done what she thought was right to keep herself alive, no matter the cost. Genny happened to be an afterthought most of the time, which was fine with her because the men who frequented her mother’s bed were not the kind Genny wished to know anyway.

A fallen mistress forced to sell her wares while she lamented her lost love, Camille Boudreaux was nothing more than a common whore, one who’d traded away her daughter for creature comforts to protect herself instead of her child.

Naked men were nothing new, nothing to even get too excited about. Or at least that’s what Genny thought until she looked out the small window and saw Lee stripping off his sweat-soaked shirt. She hardly noticed the missing part of his arm because she was captivated by the body revealed in the fading evening light.

Dark sprinkles of blond hair, wet from the sweat, sparkled against the honey-gold expanse of skin. He obviously had scars, they stood white against the darker skin, but Lord help her, the man was beautiful.

Her pussy throbbed with arousal almost instantly, shocking her so much she dropped the pan of cornbread two inches away from her foot. Fortunately the bread was still intact for supper, even if her pride suffered from her body’s shocking reaction. Granted, Lee hadn’t stripped down completely, much to her disappointment.

She was still staring when he started walking toward the house. Genny busied herself putting supper on the table, but when he stepped into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but glance at the snug fit of the trousers around his cock. The man was definitely well-endowed. He was dressed in the shirt she’d left him, looking as if he’d spiffed up to go to church. After mumbling a thank you, he sat at the table and waited to be served.

Genny forced herself to focus on the meal, yet when she joined him at the table, there was awkward silence again. If meals didn’t improve, Genny might have to serve Lee separately to spare them all the discomfort.

Genny might have been upset with him for his brusque behavior, but she had a guilty conscience. After all, she’d been staring at him as he washed up. Not only that, but she’d enjoyed every second of it. Her body had reacted more strongly by just watching him than when she’d been touched by any man. That was very telling, and somewhat frightening.

Genny blushed with the memory of pressing herself against the wooden sink, enjoying the sensation, imagining it was Lee’s hardness.

“Mama, you feel peaked? Your face is mighty red.” Sophie’s voice broke her out of the memory.

“It was warm in here cooking, that’s all.” Genny forced a smile. “Now eat your supper. You worked hard today and need to have a good meal.”

Genny’s voice sounded stilted and forced, even to her own ears. Almost lazily, Lee lifted his head and looked at her. His intense stare sizzled across the table, raising goose bumps on her arms, and then her nipples hardened as well. This reaction was so far out of her normal one, Genny felt trapped by it. She’d grown up wise in the ways of men and women, but apparently ignorant of what happened in herself.

“Cornbread’s good,” he offered around a bite.

Genny, damn her stupid self, couldn’t make her tongue form a proper thank you. She gestured to the pan, encouraging him to eat more.

“Thank you kindly, but I think this is all I need at the moment.” His voice had dropped again, and the husky tone skittered across her skin like a caress.

“I want more.” Sophie started to reach her hand into the pan, but Genny snatched her wrist before she could touch anything.

“Do not forget your manners, young lady. I will give you a piece.” As Genny scooped a piece out for her daughter, she reminded herself to get control of her body’s reactions. It wouldn’t do well to have her continually fantasizing about her employee.

He was off-limits and that was that. Too bad her body wouldn’t comply.

Lee lingered over the coffee, enjoying the sight of Genevieve cleaning up after supper. Her movements were jerky and ungraceful, completely unlike the woman he’d come to know that day. Something was bothering her, and he wondered if it was the same thing bothering him.

It had been a long time since Lee had been with a woman. Truthfully it had been him and his right hand for more than two years. Being around her, hearing that voice slide up and down his skin, made him hornier than he’d been in a long time. He really had no business lusting after his boss, even if she was hands down made for loving.

Loving? He meant made for fucking—loving was the wrong damn word. Something about her made him forget everything when she opened her mouth. He’d imagine her kneeling in front of him, that mouth licking and sucking his dick, then bam! The tent was pitched in his trousers.

That was just the start of it, of course. She had a curvy body, even if she was short. Those tits, holy Christ, they were the perfect size for his hand. He couldn’t help but notice her nipples harden during dinner. After that, he had trouble swallowing his food when all he could think about was what color those nipples were. Perhaps they were light pink like her lips, or a darker rose like a flower. Lee shifted uncomfortably in the chair. At this rate, he’d never be able to stand up again. When she set the last plate on the shelf above the sink, she turned and put her hands on her hips, frowning.

“I hate to ask, but I’m thinking Sophie needs a bath and so do I. Do you mind hauling the tub in here from behind the house?”

Oh hell, now he could imagine what she looked like naked in the bath. God sure had a shitty sense of humor.

“Mr. Blackwood?” She stepped toward him. “Lee?”

His name on her lips sent a pulse through him, leaving a trail of tingles as it went. “Sure. I’ll go get it for you.” As he stood, he recognized there was no hope for it, he’d have to let her see exactly what she did to him.

However, God must’ve taken pity on him because she turned to stoke up the fire in the stove and reached for the metal buckets on the floor, giving him the chance to turn his back and walk toward the door. Unfortunately, she was right behind him heading for the well.

He stopped and took the buckets from her. “I’ll get the water first so you can start heating it, then I’ll bring in the tub.”

As she stammered a thank you, he escaped into the cool night, buckets clanking in his hand while his body throbbed.

* * * * *

Lee wasn’t one to go around peeping at women. It wasn’t something he would have ever done, apparently until he met Genevieve Blanchard. Right about then, he was a man who scented a woman and followed his dick to the small window near the kitchen sink.

He’d been the one to fetch the buckets of water for her and drag the tub into the kitchen from its perch on the porch. Dammit he knew she was going to bathe and should have been the gentleman who stayed in the barn doing chores until she was finished, or at least until she called him. However, Lee had stopped pretending to be a gentleman years earlier.

After arguing with himself for another forty-five seconds, he gave in to the raging hunger inside him and looked in the window.

Sweet Mother of God.

Every muscle in his body tensed all at once. His breath came in small bursts, low and rough as it edged out of his mouth into the blackness of the night. Blood rushed through his veins, whooshing past his ears as his heart pounded so hard he swore it cracked a rib.

She stepped out of her dress and stood in only her chemise. The lamp behind her illuminated her to the point where she didn’t even need a chemise because she was naked as far as Lee was concerned. Sweet luscious curves abounded, revealed inch by inch as she pulled off the cotton garment. As he drank in Genevieve completely nude, he promptly forgot to breathe.

She was exquisite.

Her long brown hair glowed like a copper sunset in the light from the fire. It hung in waves down her back, caressing the top of the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen. Round, perfect globes, pale and plump. She wasn’t thin or bony, but blessed with a body a man could hold onto while he plunged in.

His head swam with images of Genevieve beneath him, above him and beside him, and best of all, kneeling in front of him. Lightheaded and sweating, Lee hung onto the windowsill as if it were a lifeline. It seemed that every drop of blood in his body had rushed to his dick, which was now hard enough to actually hammer a nail. It throbbed in his britches, pushing against the fabric and begging for release.

She turned to step into the tub and Lee was able to see her breasts. Her skin was like honey, warm and sweet, with nipples peaked in the cool air. They were puckered as if waiting for his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. A tiny moan burst from his throat and he had to duck to swallow the howl that rose from his center.

The tall grass around him scratched at his pants as Lee clenched his jaw shut and tried to calm his arousal. He had never been so horny in his life, even with Fiona. With her he’d been eager and needy, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

Even just looking at Genevieve nude, without touching her, had sent him into a spiral of pure lust that would likely last for hours. He knew his hard-on would.

When the window above him opened, Lee held his breath intentionally this time. He was lucky he had squatted onto the ground below the window. Now all he could do was pray she didn’t look down.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The smell of female wafted over him, a combination of roses, the sweetness of sugar in tea and delicate perspiration. It shouldn’t have any effect on Lee, but it did anyway. He wanted to lick her skin, absorb her into his body and savor the taste of Genevieve on his tongue. Scrambling to control his breathing, his heart and his stupidity, Lee pressed his fist against his forehead. She mustn’t know he was there, drinking his fill of her without her knowledge like a common bastard.

When the window closed, seemingly an hour later, Lee let out a small shaky breath and stayed put. No need to move just yet and he might hurt himself if he did. The achingly hard piece of wood between his legs was wedged in his drawers and twisted in the fabric a bit now. If he stood too quickly, there could be damage.

What the hell was he going to do now? Apparently let his dick control his actions.

Against his better judgment, he stood to peep in the window again. Genevieve was just getting into the water, surrounded by wisps of steam rising from the heated bath. He could only stare helplessly as she disappeared into the tub. To his delight, her breasts remained above the water, bobbing gently. The nipples were a deep rose color, and the sight of them in the dim firelight made him lick his lips.

His hand drifted to his trousers and unbuttoned them, freeing his constrained erection. He let out a small sigh as his hand closed around the throbbing hardness. What he wouldn’t give to have her hand circling his dick instead of his own. As he stroked and squeezed his hardness, he watched her bathe. With each swipe of the cloth against her wet skin, he tugged at his own.

It was wrong and he knew it, but there was no way in hell he could stop. Not now. He pinched the base of his dick as he grew closer to coming.

Splash, moan, splash, grunt.

Like a secret ballet, his calloused hand slid up and down his sweat-soaked dick matching her movements in the water. Just as his balls tightened and his orgasm swept over him, she stood, water sluicing down her body. He slid into a crouch and came into the dirt beneath him, biting back the howl that threatened to explode from his throat as the pleasure coursed through him.

God he wanted to fuck her, to lick her, taste her. He wanted her.

As the pulses of pleasure receded, he managed to suck in a breath and tried to focus on what he’d just done without wincing in embarrassment. Genevieve was going to drive him mad, that was a certainty. If he kept on behaving like a horny teenage boy, he’d be getting himself off several times a day.

With heated cheeks, he kicked dirt over the evidence of his self-pleasuring and crept away into the dark to fasten his pants.

As she dried herself, Genny resisted the urge to linger over her painfully hard nipples. After hearing the noise outside, she had the silly fantasy that Lee had been observing her bathe. She even took extra time getting undressed to prolong the game for herself. The foolish thing was, she wanted him to actually be there. Her body still throbbed with the hum of arousal from watching him, fantasizing about him.

Playing sexual games really wasn’t like her, and that’s what bothered her the most. There weren’t many things throughout her life that were under her control, but one of them had always been her physical reactions, particularly to men. Henry was a shitty lover, selfish and clumsy. Genny hadn’t gotten a single moment of pleasure from having sex with her husband at all. It was like one of her farm chores, boring but necessary. Her experience before Henry had been horrific, the stuff of nightmares she still experienced now and again.

She shook her head to dislodge the dark feelings that always overtook her when she started thinking about Camille. She’d promised herself when she moved to Tanger that she’d stop thinking about her life before Texas, the squalor she’d been used to, and the disregard for human beings she witnessed daily as a child. Nothing about the farm reminded her of the dark street in New Orleans so there was no need to dwell on it.

No, she’d much rather remember why she’d been aroused in the bathtub in the first place. Truthfully, she had never experienced pleasure with a man, only by her own hand.

Right now though, she ached for release. One day with Lee and she was fantasizing about being intimate with him, without even a smidge of interest from him. He grunted, answered in one syllable or ignored her. There was no rhyme or reason to her body’s apparent infatuation with the man. It should set off warning bells inside her.

Genny couldn’t risk being distracted by a man when she needed to focus on getting the wheat crop in. Too much depended on her keeping her mind and her body on that task and not on Lee Blackwood. She knew her options with men were limited, even if widows had the freedom to choose a bed partner. Until the blond one-armed man had swaggered into her life, there hadn’t been a man she would choose.