Caine's Reckoning (37 page)

“Thank you.” She dusted off her hands, nodded to the men and turned on her heel.

“I don’t think he wants you in there,” Ed added.

“Tough.”

“When you catch up to him,” one of the new men said, “tell him we found some of those wolves he was worried about.”

She looked the man over. He was a touch shorter than Caine, whipcord lean with an aura of toughness that reached out in clear warning. “Who are you?”

He removed his smoke from the corner of his surprisingly sensual mouth. “Caden Steele, ma’am.”

She looked to Tucker. “Is he Hell’s Eight?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll deliver the message.”

Right after she delivered one of her own.

The barn door was closed. From inside came the sound of nervous prancing and snorts, along with a steady, low murmur. Apparently Caine’s day was going much better than hers. Desi shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall with a loud bang. “Caine Allen.”

Snorts exploded into screams. Something hard pounded on wood in a rapid tattoo. Caine’s curse was right behind. She headed toward the source of the commotion. “Caine!”

The door two stalls ahead exploded open as a body came flying out. It hit the floor with an “oof” and a cloud of dust.

It was Caine. She marched up to him. “Caine Allen!” He blinked up at her, a dazed expression on his face. She leaned over and picked a piece of hay out of his hair and then held out her hand to help him up. As he stood, she told him, “You are going to teach me to fight.”

He was going to paddle her ass. It took only two steps to reach her side. Two completely normal steps to reach his extraordinary wife. He caught her arm as she swiped at her skirt. As always the delicacy of her amazed him. She was so different from him. Different even than Tia. She’d been born in softness, raised in gentleness, yet there wasn’t an ounce of give to her resolve. As proud as any man on Hell’s Eight, and able to give all of them a run for their money when it came to sheer grit. Ignoring her huff, he turned her and brushed the dirt and debris off her back. There was blood on the neck of her dress. And feathers caught in her hair. He had a good idea of what had gotten her dander up.

He let her spin back around, but not out of his grip. He tucked his finger under her chin, not just because he wanted her to understand how important this was, but because he liked to feel the softness of her skin. There wasn’t anything else like it in the world.

“Don’t you ever burst into the barn yelling when I’m working with a horse. You could get hurt.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You were the one on your posterior in the dirt.”

“Because you came in screeching.”

“Go to hell.”

The curse sent his eyebrows up. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

“What?”

“Swearing.”

She blinked and set her shoulders. “So?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Then plug your ears, because I’ve decided it’s not fair you have all the benefits.”

The retort made him want to smile again. He was going to have to take her in hand soon, but not yet. She was just finding her feet, testing limits. He’d give her enough room to play out the rough edges, then he’d rein her in. Maybe. Truth was, he liked watching the fire in her spark.

He stroked his thumb over her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just that I don’t think it’s fair that men have the release of swearing the moment they are mad while women don’t.”

“You ever think maybe you wouldn’t need that release if you’d just let yourself go in bed?”

He dropped his hand to her arm and guided her toward the door. Her head turned right and left. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. “There’s no one in here but me and you.”

She stopped and faced him. “Stop doing that!”

“What?”

She stamped her foot. “Knowing what I’m thinking before I say it.”

“It’s not like I have to work too hard. You don’t exactly have a poker face.”

Her mouth worked. Her arm muscles tightened and, to his horror, a sheen of tears glistened on the edges of her glare.

“Go to hell.”

He’d take umbrage with that order if he didn’t think it would shatter the last of her control. He sighed and let go of her arm. “I’ve already been there and have never had a hankering to go back.”

She stepped back, rubbing the spot where he’d held her. “It might be time for a revisit. It could be you’ll find you fit in there just fine now.”

He shook his head and motioned to her arm. “Did I hurt you?”

He thought he’d been careful, but there was no telling. Skin like hers probably bruised easily.

Her jaw worked. “No. I’m not so delicate that your hand on my arm left a mark.”

He’d have her pull the shoulder of her dress down to prove it if those tears weren’t hovering. He made a mental note to check her arm tonight in bed. “Uh-huh.” He motioned to the wide-open door. “So what brought you barging in here?”

Her chin came up. “I want you to teach me to fight.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

He looked over at her. “Any particular reason?”

Her arms crossed. “I’m sick of being at the mercy of everyone on this ranch.”

Anger slid neatly between weariness and the pleasure he got from just being around her. “Has someone been bothering you?”

He couldn’t think of a single person on Hell’s Eight who would show his wife anything but proper respect, but sometimes, a man’s lust overrode his common sense and Desi was the type of woman to put a lot of lust into a man.

Her nod of acknowledgment solidified his rage to a cold hard knot. He had promised her she’d be safe here. “Who?”

“You’re hurting me.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d moved, but he had her shoulders in his hands and he was almost lifting her off the floor. Damn, she made mincemeat of his self-control. “Give me the bastard’s name.” He’d be dead before sundown.

“That demon rooster.”

It took a second for the information to work through to his brain. “Cantankerous?”

“Yes, he’s cantankerous, and mean and vicious and he’s standing between me and my cooking lesson.”

“You want me to teach you to fight Cantankerous?”

“That’s his name?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Then yes, I want you to teach me to fight Cantankerous and James and anything else that comes my way.”

“Why?” He needed the why. This was the first time she’d come to him for something for herself, and he needed her to tell him why. Needed her to trust him that much.

“Because I’m damn tired of always losing.”

He could understand that. “So is there a time limit on how fast I need to teach you to take on all comers?”

“As fast as possible.”

He motioned to the small white feather clinging to her hair. “So how many rounds did you go with Cantankerous?”

“Four.”

He raised his eyebrows. She had guts. “Did you win any?”

Her mouth set in a disgusted purse. “Not once.”

But she’d kept coming back. “You ever think of just asking for help?”

Her fingers dug into her forearms. “No.”

He shook his head and settled his hat. “You are stubborn.”

“I’m persistent when necessary.”

Heck, he even liked the way she talked, in short clipped words with enunciated vowels. So different than the slow drawls or singsong accents he was used to. “It would have been easier to ask for help.”

“I’m not incompetent.”

“Uh-huh.” He caught her hand and tugged her in. When he pushed her sleeve up, he saw the peck marks. Red punctures surrounded by the start of bruising. His gut twisted and something hard and hot like anger rose. “Didn’t Tia tell you about the pacifier?”

“The what?”

“Corn.” He caught her hand. “C’mon.”

He didn’t give her a choice, just tugged her along behind him until they got to the feed bin. Beside it sat a crudely shaped, red-cloth silhouette of a chicken that had been stuffed with husks. It rustled as he picked it up. “This is the pacifier.”

“A stuffed toy?”

“Yup.” He headed back out of the gloom of the shed into the sun. As soon as he got to the hen yard, he tossed the toy to the left. Cantankerous was on it in a second, squawking, hollering, pecking and then humping.

“He’s, he’s…” Desi seemed stuck for words. A blush rose up her cheeks. She yanked her hand from his. “You bribe him with relations?”

He shrugged, waiting for her to make a connection. “It works.”

“You think—” a wave of her hand indicated the happy rooster “—
that
solves everything.”

“It does simplify things.”

Her eyes narrowed. “They’re just animals.”

“Last I checked, so is a man.”

Her hands landed on her hips. “You do not want me to try and seduce you to get my way.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because…”

She didn’t seem to have a ready answer. He plucked a feather off her sleeve. He let it drift to the ground. She watched it float and then land. Her shoulders squared. “Because that would be scandalous!”

“And you being scandalous would be a problem for me?” He had no idea where she got her ideas, but they were normally ass backward. And this one wasn’t a bit different.

“Of course.”

“Why?” His cock was hard just at the thought of her thinking about being scandalous.

She darted a gaze around the open yard. “This is not the place to discuss this.”

He’d ask why again, but he knew. Because she worried someone would overhear. She worried that someone would think the worst. She apparently spent a good part of her day worrying. And her night fighting. Him. He sighed and grabbed her hand, calling across the yard, “Tucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you check on Devil?”

“I’ll get him settled.”

“Thanks.”

He spun on his heel.

“Where are we going?”

“To someplace private.”

“Why?”

“To talk.”

Desi braced her feet. “About what?”

He barely felt the resistance. The kitchen door came into his line of sight. Coffee sounded good. “About your hurting yourself for no reason.”

Her feet slipped. He pulled her into his side, switching his grip to her waist. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You don’t want to bother me, love me, enjoy me, which makes me wonder why you’re so damn determined to please me.” He clasped her waist in his hands and popped her up onto the porch. “Everywhere but the one place it matters.”

She spun around as if he’d put a bullet in her butt. “In bed?”

Two steps and he was beside her, working with her natural tendency to keep his face in view, he kissed her lips as he leaned across and opened the door. He pushed her through. “Yes.”

Tia took one look at the fury on Desi’s face as they came into the kitchen and stopped stirring the contents of the pot bubbling on the stove. Her second glance encompassed his groin. Her lips twitched. She placed the lid on the pot. “I am going to take a nap.”

Caine nodded. His “I’d appreciate it” easily overrode Desi’s “There’s no need.”

Tia disappeared through the door on an echo of laughter while Caine dropped the bar on the outside door. Desi spun around so fast her skirts belled out and then wrapped around her legs. Her gaze locked on his groin. He could see the pulse pounding in her throat. “There’s definitely a need.”

He sat her in the closest chair. When she would have sprung back to her feet, he pushed her down. “Just sit.”

He grabbed two mugs and a towel. Coffee was always sitting on the stove. He wrapped the towel around the handle of the pot and filled the cups—hers only halfway because she preferred it diluted with sugar and cream. He brought the cups over to the table. Reaching into the sugar bowl he grabbed three chunks and dropped them into her mug. The splash of hot coffee stung his hand. The small pain barely penetrated his anger. He was not pleased with her and he saw no reason to pretend otherwise.

She popped up. “I’ll get the cream.”

“Sit.”

She subsided back in the chair, watching him warily for the short time it took him to get a spoon and to skim a cup of that morning’s cream from the milk bucket. And he got the salve. He brought the items back and set them on the table in front of her. She jumped as the spoon clattered on the table.

His frustration boiled over. “Goddamn it, that’s enough!”

Desi started so badly her chair rattled, but that chin came up and those gorgeous say-everything eyes didn’t flinch from his.

“I’ve given you no cause to fear me. You’re my wife.”

She shrugged. “For however long you want.”

Jesus H. Christ, was that what she thought? “If that’s the case, how come you haven’t been working harder at keeping me happy.”