The Heavenly Surrender (15 page)

“I don’t believe it’s because of the gossip,” he said. “Ya’re not the type of woman who takes gossip to heart. Why then, lass? Why do you think it was me?”

“
I-I…” Genieva stammered. “It is the gossip,” she finished, not wanting to reveal the suspicious side of her nature any further. “And she is a very pretty girl. Men like you…”

“Men like me? What are ya meanin’ by that?” he asked. Genieva began to breathe more rapidly. He was calm, he wasn’t angry with her, but he was too close to her. He held her now tightly—his strong arms wrapped completely about her.

“Men who…men who…men who catch the ladies’ eyes. You know. The charming ones who woo them into…into faltering,” she stuttered.

“Charmin’?” he chuckled. “Oh, Genieva. Surely ya’ll not be accusin’ me of bein’ charmin’, now?” He spit a tiny stream of water from between his teeth, hitting her square on the chin so that she looked up at him. “And to be sure and certain…can ya really see me, Brevan McLean, the lad with no time for anythin’ but the farm…wooin’ a woman into ‘falterin’,’ as you put it? Come now, Genieva. Tell me how realistic be that?”

Genieva gazed into the sapphires that were his eyes—knowing he would have to do far less wooing than most men. She watched as he once again let his tantalizing mouth dip beneath the surface of the water to moisten his lips and chin.

“I-I...I’m not familiar with that side of your nature. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist,” she answered finally.

His eyes narrowed, and he whispered, “Then I’ll tell ya, lass…” His face was straight, and she knew he was sincere in what he was telling her. “It’s the sound of vanity, it is…and I don’t be meanin’ it that way. But if I had a mind to do it, I’ve not the one doubt that I could indeed seduce any woman I put me mind to corruptin’. But I’m
not
the like of a beast that causes ruination of lives and leaves fatherless children aboundin’.”

Genieva began to shiver in spite of the warmth of the water. Brevan dipped his mouth below the surface once again, and when he then tipped his head back to submerge his hair and the top of his head in the water, Genieva thought she might fly apart so desirous was she to place a kiss on his neck stretched out before her. He looked to her then and must have sensed her discomfort. Chuckling he added, “And besides, lass…I’ve not the time for it.”

“Ya will, lass. I promise ya that, someday, ya will like it,” he said, and when she was ready, he pulled her beneath the surface for a few brief moments.

When they surfaced again, Genieva drew in a deep breath, brushed the water and wet hair from her eyes, and looked at him. He bobbed up and down before her, grinning triumphantly.

“The achin’ is goin’ away, isn’t it?” he asked.

Genieva nodded. “The ache in my feet feels better,” she admitted—though the aching in her heart had worsened. Oh, how she loved him—after such a short time, such a strange acquaintance! Yet she loved him completely—to the very depth of her very soul!

“Kick that last petticoat off then, lass. It’s time ya were learnin’ to swim,” Brevan said, giving a tug on the cumbersome fabric. Hesitantly, Genieva did as instructed and watched as the white petticoat floated to the water’s surface—looking ghostly in the moonlight.

Brevan began Genieva’s instruction by laying her on her back in the water while supporting her. She was amazed at how easily her body floated in the water, and some of her fear of it was lost that night in the pond.

“No,” she assured him. One last time she watched as his mouth disappeared beneath the surface of the water for a few moments, only to resurface and flash an alluring smile.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be wantin’ yar privacy to get out now,” he teased.

“It would be proper,” she assured him. Slowly he pushed her gently backward as he began toward the shore. He stopped abruptly, however, and dipped his mouth beneath the water’s surface again.

“
Liquid
refreshment has nothin’ to do with it, Genieva,” he muttered, grinning.

Genieva was tired and simply shook her head. She was too tired for him to talk in riddles. She turned toward the shore, but his arms tightened about her waist, and he backed into the deeper water once more.

“What are you doing?” she squealed, turning in his arms to face him and clinging to his body for support.

“
I have to keep me feet on the ground, lass,” he mumbled. As his eyes locked with her own, her heart began to pound furiously. “I’ve got this farm to run, to make profit, I do. It’s our life, and I’ve got to keep me feet on the ground when I’m on it. But me feet aren’t back on that ground yet, and I’m havin’ a moment of weakness, Genieva. And heaven help me…for I’m givin’ into it.”

Then it did seem as if the very heavens themselves opened, pouring down warm, life-giving sunlight. For a moment after Genieva watched Brevan’s mouth dip below the water’s surface one last time, he embraced her tightly and favored her lips with a fierce and driven kiss.

It was apparent to her he had meant to kiss her once, firmly and quickly—for when his lips left hers, he looked at her, shaking his head, and mumbling, “I’m too tired, and me strength of resistance slumbers without me,” an instant before the passionate heat of his mouth commanded her own in a kiss so perfectly superb it nearly induced Genieva unconscious. Her skin burned where her body pressed securely against his, and her mind whirled with visions of the magnificence of his face and form. She had to gasp for her breath once when his mouth left hers and kissed her fiercely on her neck just beneath her ear. He’d taken her breath from her again, and it frightened her. One last time Brevan kissed her demandingly—thoroughly—before breaking from her and walking with her in his arms toward the shore. She could only stare at his mouth in silence—awed that she had actually been the object of its attention. Finally, she looked up into his eyes—narrowed and serious—and thought it was truly miraculous that such a man as he had just blessed her with attentions—attentions she had no right to even dream of receiving from him.

When they stood only waist-deep in the water, he released her. The cool evening breeze was cold on Genieva’s moist skin, and she hugged herself tightly. She watched as he left her standing in the water while he reached down and retrieved his boots from the shore.

He began walking away, but paused and said over his shoulder, “We’re even now, we are. An eye for an eye. Yar accusation is forgiven by me…and I hope now that—that me behavior just this last minute is forgiven by
you
.” Then he left. Genieva, still warmed by his kiss, stood watching him walk toward the house.

Chapter Seven

There was no more of it. No more unexpected visits from Lita’s family and no more kisses the fabric of dreams from Brevan. For the following weeks and weeks, Brevan and Genieva labored each day from before the sun rose until it was long gone from the skies. The rain had not come, and every small stalk of corn, every garden plant, every tree had to be watered by hand.

Genieva awoke each morning already greatly fatigued from the previous day’s endeavors. And she was asleep each night before she was settled in her bed. The strain on Brevan was even worse, for he did the other chores on the farm before Genieva rose each morning.

Through it all, the few moments of respite allotted Genieva at the end of the day were spent learning to swim. At first she had taken to wading in the pond each evening while she waited for Brevan to finish seeing to the stock. He never came into the water with her again, and she could only assume it was because he viewed himself as having even less time for frivolities than he usually did. Yet she began to enjoy her private swims. It helped relieve her aching body and mind each evening.

All at once, it seemed, it was mid-June. Still the rains were lost to the farmers, and Genieva worried for everyone. She had come to know how important the crops would be to them. It was their very livelihood. Travis and Brenna were rarely visiting—for their crops needed tending too. And poor Brian! Genieva felt especially for Brian—for Lita could not assist him with lifting and carrying water. As for the Mexican beauty, Lita was pleasantly rounded in front and looking more beautiful every day. Genieva envied her for having her husband’s complete devotion and love—and for carrying her husband’s child.

Even though the Archuletas had not attempted to aggravate Brevan again, Genieva often wondered at the secrets. What was the cause of the friction between Lita’s family and Brevan? It nagged at her. Yet since she knew better than to attempt to ask anyone about it, she simply tried not to think of it.

And then, one warm summer morning, Genieva found herself with a very rare free moment to spend with Lita, who had come for a brief visit and a walk. As they spoke, they strolled leisurely through the orchard, meandering beneath the trees.

“The apples are heavy on this year,” Lita remarked. “Even without the rains.”

Genieva looked up to see that, indeed, the tree branches were already heavy with small, green fruit. She felt an odd excitement rise within her—for it was inspiring to see the literal fruits of Brevan’s labor—and of her own.

“How will I do it?” Lita asked with an unexpected sigh of discouragement. Genieva looked to her friend and her frown of concern.

“What do you mean?” Genieva asked.

“You’ve never seen the harvest of the apples, have you, Genieva?” Lita asked. When Genieva shook her head, Lita continued, “It is work. Work as hard as watering these plants by hand. Apples, apples, apples! Apples that must be picked, then washed, and dried in the ovens or sun. Apples that must be delivered to people who buy them. Applesauce, apple pie, apple jelly, apple preserves. Apples, apples, apples. And me with a new bebé coming just at that time. How will I do it? Already my Brian is so tired at the end of the day. I am no use to him. Useless.”

“We’ll all help him, Lita,” Genieva assured her. “What you can’t do, we will make up the difference. You and Brian would do the same for all of us. You’ve done it before. It’s nothing you should be worrying about. You have to think of the baby.” Genieva smiled as Lita sighed and nodded.

“Lita…” the man whined, putting a hand over his heart as if his feelings were hurt. “I’ve come to check on you and the bebé. How come you’re so mean to your favorite hermanito?”

“Ándale, Cruz. Brevan will kill you if he finds you here in his orchards,” Lita threatened.

“No! Really?” Cruz mocked. “Is this so, señora?” he addressed Genieva. “Will your apuesto esposo kill me if he finds me here with you?”

“I wouldn’t risk it if I were in your boots, Mr. Archuleta,” Genieva answered. She took a step back, linking her arm through Lita’s as Cruz dismounted and walked toward them.

Cruz stood directly in front of Genieva now. His manner toward her was more than threatening—it was lustful. Still she raised her face to meet his stare defiantly as he spoke.

“Your husband…él es un hombre violento…a violent man. But me…” he whispered as he studied Genieva from head to toe. “I can be nice—especially to una mujer bella…a beautiful woman like you, señora.”

“Don’t you talk to her like that you...you... usted es el diablo, Cruz!” Lita defended.

“Cállate!” Cruz shouted at his sister. Returning his undesirable attentions to Genieva once more, he whispered, “What you think, señora? You find me handsome, no?”

Genieva stood stunned for a moment as Lita lunged forward and began beating on her brother’s chest. Cruz caught Lita’s wrists in his hands and threw her brutally to the ground.

“No!” Genieva cried, dropping to her knees beside her friend. Lita nodded, indicating she was unharmed. Genieva looked up to find Cruz looming over them—a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“Whose bebé is that in your estómago, Carmalita?” he asked. “Does it belong to the man you married? Or to the one you love?” Cruz chuckled as Genieva frowned at him.

“What would you know about love, Cruz? Monstruo!” Lita cried out at him.

“I know plenty, hermanita,”
he growled. Then, reaching down, he took hold of Genieva’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Genieva glared at him in defiance as he mumbled, “I see why the hombre wanted you, niña. You smell very delicious to me.” He pulled her against him, and Genieva struggled to escape before his mouth could find her own. Grabbing her long braid, however, Cruz pulled her head back painfully and glared at her. “The way to anger a man, to provoke him into doing what you want, is with his esposa.”