Hawke's Pride, page 14
"Oh, all right," Rue interrupted him, marching over to the big piece of furniture and jerking open a drawer. She could have left the room, and let him take care of himself But she still had things on her mind that needed saying.
She snatched up underwear, socks, a shirt, and a pair of denims, and brought them to the bed. "Here," she said, and started to hand them to Hawke.
The clothing fell to the floor as her wrist was caught, given a twist, and she was flipped into Hawke's arms. She felt her old, worn dress splitting at the seams, and when the cool air hit her bare breasts, she began to struggle, to push against the broad shoulders that bore into her.
"Let me up!" she gasped, her curved fingers reaching for his face.
"Oh, no, missy." Hawke grinned down at her as he caught her two wrists in one hand and held them over her head. "You teased and tormented me about Josh; now it's your turn to get a little of it back."
He gazed down at her breasts as he flung a leg across her hips, keeping her pinned under him. His eyes gleaming in appreciation, he murmured softly, "Beautiful."
A mixture of excitement, fear, and anticipation swept over Rue as his head lowered slowly. In fascination she watched his mouth open as it neared a puckered nipple. "Please, don't," she whispered, but his lips were already sucking her, pulling as though he was drawing nectar into his mouth.
She felt a wave of weakness sweep through her at the insistent tugging of his lips, and she gave a deep moan of pleasure. Her body went limp and she was lost in the pleasure of Hawke tasting one breast and then the other.
When he inserted a hand beneath her skirt and laid it against the moist curls between her thighs, she opened eagerly for the finger he started to slide inside her.
When Hawke's mouth and hand suddenly left her, it took Rue a moment to realize someone was knocking on the bedroom door. She hurriedly pushed her skirt down and tried to pull the ripped bodice together as Jeb called in amusement, "I don't want to break up anything in there, but there's a couple of hungry youngsters in the kitchen who refuse to eat anything that Rue hasn't prepared." He laughed dryly. "I hadn't known I was that bad a cook all these past weeks."
"We'll be right there, Pa," Hawke called, his voice hoarse from unreleased passion.
Rue felt Hawke's eyes on her back as he dressed himself, but she was too mortified to look at him. She knew he was thinking that she was easy, that he could have had her if his father hadn't interrupted them.
Anger and shame mingled together and spread through her. He was right. She had been willing to give herself to him. She stared sightlessly through the window. Was she like her mother after all, ready to go to bed with a man only after a few lasses and the stroking of her body?
I must be, she thought dejectedly for she loathed Hawke Masters and yet he was able to set her body afire.
"Are you all right?" Hawke asked gently from behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Of course I'm all right." She jerked away from him. "Why shouldn't I be? I've been kissed before," she lied.
"Don't be angry," he coaxed. "We won't be interrupted tonight. I'll make it good for you, you'll see. It will be all the better for waiting."
"There will be no tonight!" Rue wheeled on him, her eyes flashing blue fire. "Not tonight, or any other night."
Hawke grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her up against his lean body. His partial arousal pressed against her stomach as he glared down at her and growled, "There will be a tonight. Josh Malone has his eye on you, and I'm not completely convinced that you're not returning his interest. "What I said before still goes. I'm gonna see to it that you're fully satisfied every night."
Just as Rue debated slapping his handsome face, he released her and stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "We'll see about that, Mister," she muttered, looking at the torn dress that was truly a rag now. As she yanked it over her head, she wondered what she'd do for a change of dress now. Resort to men's trousers, she imagined as she did up the buttons over her breasts, the nipples still tingling from the recent tugging on them.
Rue filled the white china basin with water from the matching pitcher and dropped the rose-scented soap and soft flannel into it. She stroked a finger over the red roses painted on the pitcher's side. She had never hoped to have anything so beautiful. Susie had said that it had belonged to her mother.
What had the dead woman been like? Rue mused. Certainly she had been a lady to have had so many pretty things. No one from where Rue came from had owned such nice furniture and pretty personal items.
Rue remembered suddenly that the Masters family was waiting for their breakfast. She hurriedly splashed water on her face, dragged the broken comb through her hair, then hurried to the door.
Her hand on the knob, she paused, nervously biting her lower lip, gathering the courage to face the two Masters men. Her father-in-law had to know that something had been going on between her and his son, and Hawke would look at her with sardonic amusement. She sighed. She couldn't stay in her room for the rest of her life. The sooner she faced them, the sooner it would be over.
Surprisingly, it wasn't too bad. Jeb greeted her in his usual gentle fashion, with a quiet fondness in his eyes. In the clamor of childish voices declaring that they were starving, Rue sneaked a look at Hawke. With him, however, it was a different story. He ran insolent eyes over her body, lingering a moment on her breasts. Then lifting his gaze to her face, he gave her a look that spoke volumes.
Her face beet-red, Rue marched over to the workbench that Jeb had brought, and busily mixed pancake batter. She was flipping over the first batch in the cast-iron skillet when her father-in-law spoke.
"Rue, I've been noticin' that you're built like the kid's mama was. I brought all her clothes along. Me and the younguns' have talked it over, and we'd be proud if you could put them to use."
Before Rue could answer that she would be happy to wear Sara's clothing, Hawke spoke up, angry resentment in his tone. "I can provide for my wife, Pa. She doesn't have to wear hand-me-downs."
Jeb studied his son's flushed face and thought with satisfaction that it seemed that Hawke cared for his wife after all. Jeb had been a little confused when he arrived yesterday. He had not missed the coolness between Rue and Hawke and had decided that it had only been a lover's spat over something of small importance.
"Then it's past time you did, son," Jeb drawled. "I had to look in Rue's chifforobe yesterday for a tin box that contains all my important papers, and all I saw hangin' in it was that dress she has on now."
Hawke's startled eyes jumped to Rue's stiff back, and it was hard for his father not to laugh at the total surprise on his son's face. He mentally shook his head. This eldest son of his had a lot to learn about a decent woman. And Rue was certainly that, Jeb thought. One only had to look at her wide, clear eyes, the innocence on her face. Unbelievably she still had the look of a virgin. His lips tilted a fraction. Fat chance of that, married to his randy son.
Jeb was jarred from his thoughts about the pair by the bristling argument going on between them.
"How in the hell was I suppose to know you only had two dresses?" Hawke growled, jabbing a fork into the stack of pancakes. "You've got a mouth. You could have told me."
"And you've got eyes!" Rue came back, pouring the second batch of batter into the skillet. "Only a blind man wouldn't have noticed something like that." She flipped the browned cakes over. "Anyway, I wouldn't ask you for a glass of water if my throat was parched."
"Then don't!" Hawke scraped his chair away from the table and stood up. "Go ahead and wear used clothes. It's damned sure I won't buy any for you." He slammed the kitchen door so hard behind him, the window rattled.
As Rue carried the second platter of cakes to the table the sight of Tommy's wide, uneasy eyes wiped the anger out of her. She swept Susie a glance and was deeply ashamed. The little girl was on the verge of tears. It was clear these children weren't used to squabbling parents.
Bringing a bright smile to her lips, she sat down next to the little girl and joked, "I guess I told Uncle Hawke, huh? He'll go down to the barn and pout a while, and then we'll make up." She stroked the soft blond hair. "Our little spat didn't upset you, did it, honey? It didn't mean anything. We were just clearing our voices at each other."
"But Uncle Hawke looked so angry, Auntie Rue," Tommy said, still doubtful. "He looked like he wanted to punch someone."
A forced gay laugh trilled through Rue's lips. "Oh I'm sure he's punched a couple of walls by now, Tommy." She laid a hand on the boy's clenched fist lying beside his plate, and looking across at Jeb's upset face, she said with firm conviction, "I want you all to know that regardless of how angry my husband might get at me, he would never strike me."
She grinned and added, "I might hit him, though."
AH three laughed, and the hovering nervous tension evaporated. But Rue knew as she began eating her own breakfast, such outbursts between her and Hawke must never happen in front of the children and Jeb again. It upset the young ones, and Jeb would soon learn that his son's marriage wasn't all it should be. And she didn't want him to know how this strange alliance between her and Hawke had come about.
Breakfast was eaten amid the chatter of the children, Tommy expressing his wish to get to the horses in the corral, and Susie carrying on a conversation with the rag doll that was seldom out of her sight.
The meal was over then, and when Jeb and Tommy went off to the stables, Rue hurried with her chores in the kitchen. She was anxious to go through the barrels of clothing out on the porch. So what if they had been worn before? "Wasn't she used to that? The dress she had on now was the only one that she alone had ever worn.
The dishes were finally washed and put away, and Rue fairly ran to view what she might find. "While Susie sat on the edge of the porch, still talking to her doll, Rue pried open the barrel that Jeb had said contained the family's clothing.
The top layer belonged to Susie, little dresses, six for play and two more fancier. Sunday best, Rue imagined as she took out small petticoats, ruffled bloomers, and white stockings.
Tommy's came next. They were much the same as his sister's. Everyday shirts and trousers, and a couple of Sunday best. Then there were Jeb's. With the exception of a black suit, everything else was work clothes. She smoothed out the lapel of the suit coat, thinking of the sad event he had worn it to last.
Then there was a mixture of men's shirts and trousers, smaller than Hawke's. His brother's, no doubt. Finally, there lay before her what she had been anxiously looking for.
The first layer was under clothing made of fine material, lace, and ribbon-trimmed. There were also gloves and hose. Rue held these items in her hands a moment, gazing at them in wonder. Her legs had never felt silk on them, nor had her rough, red hands known gloves. Not even in the bitter cold winter. At last she came to what interested her most. Slowly she lifted six lovely dresses, fashioned from bright calicos, chambray, and muslin. All were trimmed with either ruffles or lace.
Rue gasped her pleasure when she pulled out the seventh dress. Never had she seen anything so lovely. She shook it out, and holding it up, her hungry eyes ran over the garment. The bodice was white lace, cut low, with short, capped sleeves. Attached to it was a full gathered skirt of the sheerest voile which clung to a dark green satin shimmering underskirt.
After a while she sighed deeply and placed the beautiful dress on top of the others. When in the world would she ever wear it? Certainly she could never cook or scrub in it, and that seemed to be her lot in life.
Rue picked up an armful of clothes, then paused on her way to her bedroom at the sound of jingling spurs. She glanced over her shoulder and saw two young cowboys coming from the direction of the bunkhouse. As she watched them, they stopped at the foot of the steps, awkwardly shifting their feet, looking very uncomfortable.
Rue hid her smile, and after greeting them, said matter-of-factly, "I guess you're here to install the other stove." At their quick nod, she said, "The old one has to come out first. I think it has cooled off by now." One of the shy young men managed to say, "Yes, ma'am," then the pair trooped into the house.
Rue flinched when a minute later she heard the banging of the rusty old stove being dismantled. In her mind's eye she could see ashes and soot flying all o't her clean kitchen. "I can't watch," she muttered, and spent the time carrying in all the clothes and putting them away in the proper bedrooms. Susie was her constant companion, chattering away to the rag doll.
To Rue's surprise, while she had been involved with putting away the clothes, the old stove had been carried into the backyard and the new one set in its place. Also, one of the men had done a fair job of sweeping up after themselves.
"When she smilingly expressed her thanks, the younger cowboy stammered, "Hawke said… said that maybe… maybe you'd need us to help hang some curtains."
"Why, yes, I would," Rue exclaimed, surprised that Hawke would be so thoughtful where she was concerned. "Come back in an hour or so. Give me time to find and press them."
"Glad to, ma'am," the spokesman for the two said, then turning quickly, bumped into his companion, knocking him to the ground.
Rue flew to the kitchen to control her laughter, to let the fallen man swear in peace.
The stove drew well, Rue noted as she built a fire, then put the irons on its shiny top. While they heated, she went again to the porch and pried open the barrel that was marked linens. She had just finished pressing dozens of curtain panels when the two young men again presented themselves at the door.
Rue's eyes were alive with pleasure as in the next two hours curtains were hung throughout the house. There were heavy ones for the bedrooms, insuring privacy, and sheer dimities for the kitchen and parlor. Sara also had liked the sunlight, Rue thought.
When the men had left, Rue went from room to room, feasting her eyes on the window coverings, remembering the bare, dirty panes she had stared through at the shack, the broken ones stuffed with rags to keep out the winter winds. She couldn't help thinking how proud Grandma would be if she could see her granddaughter's new home. It would mean nothing to her though if she knew how miserable and unhappy I am, Rue thought. It would grieve her and that is why any letters I write to her must be full of cheer and contentment.
And what a lie that would be, Rue snorted as she left the big room and crossed into the kitchen. All day, in the back of her mind had lain the dread of bedtime, Hawke's threat of making love to her returning again and again.
"Never," she gritted, as she started preparing a light lunch. "If he so much as lays a hand on me, I'll hit him so hard his head will rock for a week."
When it became evident that the Masters men weren't coming in for the noon meal, Rue called Susie in from the yard and they both bit hungrily into the beef sandwiches she had made. They were topping off the meal with sugar cookies when from outside came the clatter of hooves.
Rue's mouth tightened. Trust Hawke to show up for a meal whenever he pleased. She rose from the table and walked to the window. Her heart lurched and her stomach turned. It wasn't her husband as she had dreaded, but someone just as unwelcomed.
"What is she doing here?" she whispered, her heart picking up an angry, uneasy rhythm as she stared at Lillie Meyers.
With narrowed eyes and clenched fists, she watched the woman swing to the ground, then smooth down the skirt of her blue taffeta dress. That's hardly an outfit to wear while riding, Rue thought critically, then remembered her own grimy appearance. Her dress was stained from rummaging through the dusty barrels, and her hair had straggled from the knot she had affixed atop her head before tackling her housework this morning.
Would she have time to change her dress and comb her hair? she wondered. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't. She could see Hawke and his father riding in. Hawke would be amused if he saw that she had freshened up for his mistress.
When Hawke swung to the ground, Rue searched his face, expecting to see pleasure on it as he walked toward Lillie. To her surprise, he looked anything but pleased. Strange, she thought, studying his lean, brown face. He's impatient with her, I wonder why.
Because of his father, the answer came to Rue. He doesn't want Jeb to know about his relationship with his neighbor's wife. Her eyes narrowed on her husband. Although he continued to look annoyed, there was a wariness about Hawke as he approached Lillie. He's nervous, she thought, and grinned. And why wouldn't he be? He didn't want his father to know that he cared more for this woman than he did for his own wife.
Rue couldn't make out the words spoken among the three, but she knew that Hawke had introduced Lillie to his father when the woman smiled brightly and held out her hand to Jeb. It pleased her tremendously when her father-in-law unsmilingly gave the ringbedecked hand a quick shake, then stepped back.
"How do you like that, you old whore?" Rue whispered under her breath. "Jeb knows what you are."
An angry flush swept over Lillie's face at Jeb's near rudeness. Then, with an indifferent shrug, she slid her arm through Hawke's and hugged it against her full breasts. Rue gritted her teeth when the three climbed the steps to the porch.
Would she be expected to entertain the woman? She doubted that she could. She would rather entertain a rattlesnake.
A quick look at Jeb's frowning disfavor of how Lillie was hanging onto Hawke's arm made Rue feel a little better. At least her father-in-law would be on her side.
It was Jeb who a moment later stood in the kitchen door and remarked in disgruntled tones, "You got company, honey. Some person who claims she's a neighbor."
"Yes." Rue sighed. "I saw her ride up." Jeb looked disconcerted and she knew that he was wondering if she had seen Lillie take Hawke's arm so possessively. She looked at him and smiled. "We'll join you just as soon as I wipe Susie's face."
"Don't take too long," Jeb advised. "That woman doesn't care a whit that Hawke is married."
As Jeb's footsteps faded down the hall toward the parlor, Rue thought how right he was. Wedding vows meant nothing to the Lillie Meyers of this world. Hadn't she grown up with that knowledge? Her mother had taken married men to bed. But, she thought, as she filled a basin with water, there were also women like her grandmother. Women who were true to one man all their lives. She sighed, wishing that she, too, could have a happy marriage like Grandpa and Grandma DeLawney's.
