Kate Wingo - Western Fire 01 (27 page)

Kissing her with an exquisite tenderness
, Spencer brushed his mouth across her quivering lips. When, a few moments later, his tongue brazenly began to explore her mouth, Mercy reciprocated, meeting him stroke for stroke. And when he captured her wayward tongue and began to suckle it, she arched her back, intentionally rubbing her pebbled nipples against his chest.

Driven by pent-up longings,
Mercy flexed her hips in Spencer’s direction. Moaning softly, Spencer slid his hand down the column of her spine, his palm settling on a rounded buttock as he pulled her firmly against him. With his other hand, he started to undo the wooden buttons on her bodice. Mercy shuddered, desire, hot and fluid, pulsing through her veins. A few moments later, he pulled the two unbuttoned halves of her bodice wide open, exposing her bare bosom.

Tugging the homespun fabric off
of her shoulders, Spencer gazed at her pale breasts. With a fierce, savage gleam in his eyes, he cupped a hand under each breast, pushing the fleshy mounds upward with his palms.

“I’m gonna eat you up, sweet Mercy. See if I don’t.”

Making good on the promise, Spencer bathed her nipple with his mouth. Then, taking her completely by surprise, he began to gently gnaw on the hard, little nubbin of flesh. Mercy dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, the pleasure he wrought near unbearable. With exquisite expertise, he took her just to the point of pain before he moved to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same torturous attention. As he continued to suckle at her breast, Mercy felt the tension build, Spencer having kindled a fire that threatened to burn out of control.

Before
Spencer McCabe had come into her life, Mercy had always held to the belief that a woman’s body was to be given only to her lawfully wed husband; that it was sinful to have intimate knowledge of a man without benefit of marriage.

Yet how
can this pure, untainted love be deemed sinful?

In a word, it could not. Love
was the exception to every rule. Even the rules of heaven.

Yanking at
her dress, Spencer pulled the rough fabric downward until it pooled at her ankles. Then, with a quick tug of the wrist, he loosened the drawstring on her drawers, the cotton garment falling to the ground. Reveling in her own nakedness, Mercy helped him to remove her stockings and boots.

“I hope that .
. . that you find me pleasing.”

Spencer
held her at arm’s length and appraised her unclothed body. “Pleasing? Hell, Mercy. You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve set eyes upon.”

Butting his torso against her bare breasts,
Spencer curved his hands around Mercy’s buttocks and hefted her upwards. He then snuggled her against his hips, enabling Mercy to feel his swollen shaft. She whimpered softly, the woolen fabric of his trousers pleasurably abrading her woman’s place. Holding her thus, Spencer kissed her, using his tongue to mimic the mating act. Inhibitions thrown to the wayside, she brazenly rubbed herself against him.

With a ragged groan,
Spencer released his hold on Mercy, letting her slide down the front of his body. Holding her gaze, he quickly unfastened the top three buttons on his shirt before he pulled the garment over his head in one sure motion. He next divested himself of his boots and socks.

Avidly watching
him, Mercy began to tremble as Spencer unbuttoned his trousers. In the pale moonlight, she could see that he was fully aroused, his manhood proudly twitching against his abdomen. At least for tonight, this big, beautiful man belonged to her.

No longer a shy maiden,
Mercy trailed her fingers along the heated length of Spencer’s engorged organ. Intrigued by the contrast of its throbbing solidity and velvet-smooth texture, she gave free reign to her curiosity. Remembering what Spencer taught her that day in the barn, she slid her hand up, then down, experiencing a womanly thrill when his big body shuddered under her ministrations.

Suddenly shoving her hand aside,
Spencer grabbed her by the buttocks, lifting Mercy off her feet. “Time to ride the wild beast,” he husked just before he impaled her upon his manhood.

“Y
es!” Mercy panted, convulsively grabbing at Spencer’s shoulders.

Finally.

At last.

He filled her.

Completely and utterly filled her.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” Spencer
ordered. “And while you’re at it, you best hold on tight. I think we’re both in for a helluva ride.”

Having given her fair warning,
Spence fell to his knees, easing Mercy onto the grass-covered embankment. No sooner did her backside touch the ground than he began to fiercely pump his hips. Like he’d died and gone to heaven, he could feel her body cling to every inch of him.

“Take
it . . . all of it,” he rasped.

I
ncoherently moaning, Mercy wildly bucked beneath him, enabling Spence to go that much deeper. A wild thing, she sank her fingers into his flanks.
Panting. Whimpering
. Crying out his name each time he buried his cock in her warm, wet hole. Although he set a furious tempo, Spence couldn’t get enough of her, wanting to feel, to touch, to taste her all at once. Mercy Hibbert was unlike any other woman he’d ever met, fierce and gutsy on the outside, soft and sensual on the inside.

And now she was his woman.

Digging her nails into his back, Mercy suddenly lurched upward, her head shaking from side-to-side. Awestruck, Spence watched her come, grinding his teeth as her body snugly gripped him.
So beautiful. So wet. So tight.

Dangerously close to exploding, he grabbed
Mercy by the shoulders and pushed into her. Once. Twice.

In the next instant,
Spence shuddered, every muscle in his body straining as he shot his seed deep into her body.

Like he really had died and gone to heaven,
all the anger instantly left him.

Vengeance.

Revenge.

Hatred
.

All gone.

Spent, he sank against Mercy, barely able to pull air into his lungs. Rolling onto his back, Spence pulled her close.

Neither spoke as they
stared at the night sky and listened to the gentle rustle of the wind in the trees. It suddenly dawned on Spence that there hadn’t been too many peaceful moments in his life. But this sure as hell was one of them.

“Well, there it is,” Spencer announced with a sweep of his arm. “Home, sweet home.
There are six bedrooms, all told, so there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Mercy gaped at the
expansive log house, not bothering to hide her surprise. Three stories high, with a trio of dormer windows evenly spaced across the slanted roof, and two stone chimneys mounted on either side of the central wing, Spencer’s farmhouse was far grander than she would have ever imagined. Moreover, the columned front porch and massive oak trees that flanked the house lent it a stately air.

“Why, it’s much larger than you led me to believe. You must have a sizable family, indeed.”

“Not so large,” Spencer murmured. Like a sudden summer storm, his demeanor instantly turned dark and brooding.

Mercy kept silent, not certain how to respond to his change in mood. Over the last several days, intimacy had forged a tenuous bond between them. And though she did not fully understand all of these new, heady emotions, she did know that her love for Spencer deepened with each passing day.

Of course, she was not so naïve as to think that Spencer McCabe was perfect. While he was an undeniably passionate man, there was another side to him. One that he went to great lengths to keep hidden. Although occasionally, as had just happened, he let his guard slip.

Braking the wagon to a stop in the middle of the farmyard,
Mercy girded her inner strength. Given her bedraggled appearance, she was understandably nervous about meeting Spencer’s family. In fact, after a week of travel, the Hibbert clan might easily be mistaken for a band of homeless, itinerant gypsies, their woebegone rug-covered buckboard truly a sight for sore eyes.

Swallowing back a surge of nausea, Mercy worried that on top of everything else, she might very well humiliate herself by
succumbing to a queasy stomach. Since leaving Kansas, she’d battled a severe intestinal disorder. On most days she was barely able to keep her meals down.

Reining his horse beside a weathered hitching post, Spencer dismounted.
No sooner had he done so than the front door of the house swung open.

In the next instant, a
startling beautiful female – with dark, unbound hair streaming down her back – charged out of the house, ecstatically screaming Spencer’s name. Somewhat taken aback, Mercy was quick to note that the young woman was completely garbed in men’s clothing, right down to a pair of knee-high leather riding boots.

“Spence! Is it really you?”

The woman threw herself into Spencer’s outstretched arms, yelping with delight as he swung her off the ground. Beaming, Spencer finally set the beauty down, his gaze sweeping up and down her curvaceous figure.

“Damn, if you haven’t gone and become a woman full grown.”

The sultry beauty put her hands on her hips, the mannish attire only accentuating her shapeliness. “If you spent more time at home, you’d know that I became a ‘woman full grown’ quite some time ago.”

Spencer glanced
disapprovingly at her bosom. “Yeah, and if you become much more of a woman, you’re gonna bust right out of that shirt you’re wearing. I’m surprised Lydia lets dress like that.”

“Not much she can do
now that I’m nineteen years of age. Besides, how am I supposed to go coon hunting all gussied up in a dress?”

“Coon hunting!”

“You know full well that I can ride faster and shoot straighter than any man.”

“Yeah, and if I ever hear that you can spit tobacky farther, I’m going to turn you over my knee.” Laughing good-naturedly, Spencer slung an arm around
her shoulders as he turned her toward the wagon. “Looky here. I brought some folks home with me.”

The young woman folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing. “From the looks of it, I’d say you brought some blond-headed gal home with you.”

Spencer ignored the petulant remark as he motioned for Mercy to join them.

Discomfited by the young woman’s inhospitable change in attitude, Mercy reluctantly wrapped the wagon reins around the brake handle. Prudence, seated in the wagon bed with the rest of the family, poked her head through the overlapping carpet pieces
that covered the wagon.

“Who’s that?” Pru asked, an awestruck look on her face.

“I’m not exactly certain.”

“She certainly is tall, isn’t she?”

Mercy nodded, having already gauged the other woman to be several inches taller than her own five-foot-four frame.

“And why do you suppose she’s wearing men’s clothing?” Pru whispered
in a lowered voice. “Surely, that’s not how women dress in Missouri?”

“Really, Pru!” Mercy yanked her dusty poke bonnet off
of her head before scrambling off the wagon. “You remain here with Mama and Gabriel until after I’ve been introduced.”

Straightening her shoulders, Mercy
joined Spencer who stood waiting, his arm still casually slung across the other woman’s shoulders.

“Ginny, honey, this here is Miss Mercy Hibbert. Mercy, this is my little sister Virginia.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Mercy replied with a quick bob of the head. Upon close inspection, she could see that aside from being possessed of a pair of unusual turquoise-colored eyes, there was a striking resemblance between Spencer and Virginia, or ‘Ginny’ as he affectionately called her.

Ginny, a wary scowl on her face,
glanced at her brother. “She’s not from around here, is she?”

“She, uh, hails from Massachusetts,” Spencer said
somewhat guardedly. “Although, of late, she and her family have been homesteading in Kansas.”

“Mas-sa-chu-setts!” Ginny enunciated each syllable, making no attempt to hide her surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. A real live Yankee woman.”

Hearing that, Mercy heatedly flushed. Evidently, a profane way with words was a McCabe family trait.

“How in the blue blazes did you get yourself entangled with a Massachusetts Yankee?”

Spencer coughed, unsuccessfully trying to cover his laughter. “Well, you see, Miss Hibbert is—”

“
Here at your brother’s invitation,” Mercy interjected, fed up with being spoken about as though she wasn’t present. “And if you like, I shall be delighted to regale you with the specifics as to how I became ‘entangled’ with a Missouri bushwhacker.”

Ginny cocked an eyebrow
as she assessed Mercy from head to foot. A moment passed before she nodded approvingly. “She’s got spunk. I like that.” Craning her neck, she scanned the farmyard. “Where’s Dewey?”

“I sent him into town for supplies. Since Lydia isn’t expecting us, I thought it might be a good idea to pick up some extra foodstuffs.”

As if on cue, the front door suddenly opened.

“Why, speak of the devil. If it isn’t our sister-in-law Lydia,
” Ginny mischievously murmured.

In unison, t
he three of them turned to watch a black-clad woman regally descend the porch steps, her hoop skirt gracefully swaying from side-to-side as she made her approach. Although not classically beautiful, Lydia McCabe was certainly striking, her perfectly coifed copper-colored hair framing a magnolia-white face. Aristocratically elegant, she looked at odds with her surroundings, the farmhouse an incongruous backdrop for her.

“Hey, Lydia
. Looky here!” Ginny exuberantly called out to her. “Spence has gone and got himself a genuine blond-headed Yankee woman.”

Mercy bit back a tart reply, forcing a tight-lipped smile onto her face.
Physically and emotionally exhausted from the journey, she feared saying something that she would later regret.

“Uh, Ginny, why don’t you go on over there to the wagon and introduce yourself to Mercy’s family,” Spencer quietly suggested.

Ginny smirked, a knowing look in her eyes. “You must be getting ready to tell Lydia a real whopper,” she said before sauntering toward the wagon.

With an air of ladylike detachment, Lydia McCabe approached. If she’d overheard Ginny’s
last remark, she gave no indication.

“Hey there, Lydia. It’s good to see ya.”

Lydia acknowledged her brother-in-law’s greeting with a queenly nod of the head. “As usual, Spencer, you failed to send advance notice of your arrival.”

“Um, sorry about that.” Reaching for Mercy’s arm, Spencer pulled her to his side. “How about saying hello to Miss Mercy Hibbert, lately of Marion County, Kansas.
A gang of jayhawkers set fire to her house, so she’ll be staying with us for a while,” Spencer said, as though such occurrences were commonplace.

Lydia’s eyes opened wide, clearly astonished by the announcement.

“If you must know, not only did Mister McCabe rescue my mother from the flames, at great risk to himself, but he was kind enough to offer refuge to my family,” Mercy elaborated as she self-consciously gestured to the buckboard.

“Do you mean to say that you traveled here in
–” Lydia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow – “in that conveyance?”

“I’ll have you know,
sister-in-law, that I designed the improvements on that conveyance myself.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Lydia airily waved a hand toward a wood-planked lean-to abutted to the side of the house. “As you can see, Miss Hibbert, Spencer also designed the
improvements
to our abode.”

Not the least bit riled, Spencer grinned. “
I’ll grant you, nobody would ever mistake our ‘abode’ for Elmwood. That’s for darned sure.”

“Where’s Elmwood?” Mercy inquired, baffled by the reference.

“Not
where
, but what. Elmwood is the name of the Chadwick plantation back in Tennessee.” Spencer then confidentially lowered his voice, and with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he said, “Old Judge Chadwick is still turning in his grave over the fact that his only daughter, the lovely Miss Lydia Anne, up and married a McCabe. Although how my brother Jim snared her is a family mystery.”

At hearing mention of Spencer’s brother, Mercy’s interest
immediately perked.

“I take it that your husband is away in the army,” Mercy said politely, curious to learn more about the McCabe family.

Both Lydia and Spencer stared at her – a stricken look on her face, a grim expression on his.

“My husband is dead, Miss Hibbert.”

Mercy’s hand flew to her mouth, mortified beyond words.

Dear God in heaven. Why didn’t Spencer tell
me beforehand that his brother was dead?

Although
Lydia was dressed in a mourning gown, because Spencer had made no mention of a recent death in his immediate family, she’d erroneously assumed that his sister-in-law grieved a distant relative. An uncle or perhaps a cousin.

“Please accept my condolences, Mrs. McCabe. I’m truly sorry to learn of your recent loss.”

An awkward silence ensued, Mercy fretting over what she’d unwittingly said this time to cause offense.

Lydia clasped her hands together, her demeanor decidedly reserved.
“Thank you, Miss Hibbert, for your thoughtful sentiments. They are much appreciated, although unwarranted given that James died eight years ago.”

“I . . . I had no idea,” Mercy sputtered, furious that Spencer had not seen fit to mention any of this to her. While their relationship had weathered many a storm, in the last three days they’d bridged their differences, intimacy bringing them closer together. Or so she
had thought.

“Uncle Spencer! Uncle Spencer!”

Grateful for the timely diversion, Mercy turned and watched as a red-headed little girl sprinted from the house, her freckled face flushed with excitement. Scooping the child into his arms, Spencer swung her high above the ground, the two of them merrily laughing aloud. After several loud, smacking kisses to the cheek, Spencer lowered the child to the ground.

“Mercy, this here is my niece Elizabeth.”

Although she possessed her mother’s red hair, Mercy suspected that young Elizabeth more closely took after the McCabe side of the family. Not only was her ruffled white pinafore smeared with fruit jam, but her cotton stockings were covered in grass stains. From the gleam in his eyes, Mercy could see that Spencer absolutely doted on the child.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”

The child executed a ladylike curtsy, a puckish grin on her face. “Everyone calls me Dixie.”

Utterly charmed, Mercy returned the curtsy. Dixie, her eyes as round as gold dollars, pointed to the buckboard wagon where Gabriel, Pru and Ginny McCabe were busily getting acquainted.

“You brought a little boy with you!” Gleefully she waved at Gabriel who promptly returned the greeting.

Before anyone could stop her, Dixie took off running, shouting at Gabriel to follow her
. The two children were soon laughing uproariously as they ran behind the house.

Mercy turned to Lydia, embarrassed by
Gabriel’s raucous behavior. “I hope you don’t mind if Gabriel plays with your daughter. Being so young, the trip was difficult for him and. . . .” Her voice trailed off, Mercy hesitant to go into the specifics of what had been, at times, a life and death struggle.