The Heavenly Surrender (31 page)

“Well, I’ll…I’ll um…get these done and turn in. Back to life as usual tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be all the further behind because of these past two days and…” Genieva babbled nervously. But when Brevan took her hands in his own, a knowing smile on his handsome face, she knew she was undone. She knew that no matter what his intention, whether he was teasing her or whether he was serious in his inference, she knew she had no power to resist him.

“We had an agreement, we did,” he said, lowering his voice as he gazed into her eyes. “Ya’ve had yar day. I’ll have me night, Genieva.”

Reaching over his shoulders, he grasped the back of his shirt, stripping it from his body and over his head, as was his predictable habit each evening. Yet this time, instead of tossing it haphazardly into the basket at the foot of his bed, he simply laid it on the counter next to the sink. Taking Genieva’s hands once more, he placed her palms on the warm flesh of his chest.

“I-I had better check those cuts you got today, Brevan. They might…they might…” Her words were lost as he bent and placed a soft kiss on her left cheek.

“Me wounds are fine, lass,” he whispered.

“Brevan,” she said, swallowing the lump of anxiety forming in her throat. “You don’t really mean to…to…”

“To what, Genieva?” he asked. His quiet chuckle revealed he knew full well what she meant. Abruptly, she pulled her hands from his body, turned, and walked quickly toward her room.

“I’ll be up all the earlier, Brevan. You’ve made your point, and I’ll not ask for another day off any time soon,” she called over her shoulder. Once inside her room, she shut her door, only to have him open it immediately, enter, and close it slowly behind himself. There was no light save that of the moon shining through her open windows, for she had not yet turned up the lantern at her bedside. The lace curtains adorning the window blew softly in the apple-scented breeze that wafted through the room. Reaching down, Brevan turned up the lamp sitting on the table next to the head of Genieva’s bed.

“So ya’re runnin’ from me then?” he asked, grinning with delicious mischief. “You’ll not pay the debt ya owe me for lettin’ ya have yar day of rest?”

“Y-you don’t really want me to anyway, Brevan,” Genieva said. “And anyway…I spent half the day waiting on Lita and the baby and the other half worrying about the Archuletas showing up at any moment.”

“Did ya milk the cows this mornin’, lass?” he asked as he slowly approached. Genieva’s legs were already braced against the side of her bed. There was no escaping him short of bolting out the open window.

“
Well, no, but…” she began.

“Did ya pick the ripe vegetables in the garden today, Genieva?”

“No. I…”

“Did ya feed the chickens or mend me shirts—the ones ya’ve been poppin’ the buttons off—or brush down me horses or water the stock or…”

“No!” she exclaimed. “No. You know I didn’t.”

“Then ya’ve had yar day, lass. And the sun has set. The night is upon ya now,” breathtaking Brevan McLean mumbled in a low, alluring voice. Reaching out, he gathered Genieva into his arms, pulling her body flush with his own as his mouth took hers in a scalding, commanding kiss. At the first touch of his lips to hers, Genieva melted against him—like butter in a hot cast-iron skillet. The scent of his skin filled her mind—the feel of it beneath her palms causing goose bumps to ripple over her body, as she let her hands slide up over his shoulders to return his embrace.

He was like a necessary nourishment to her—a nectar—like tasting the beauty the sunset had painted across the evening skies! Brevan was the wonderment of her existence—her own allotment of heaven! And there was more. As his kiss intensified—as it favored her cheeks, neck, and mouth once more—she sensed he yet held himself in careful resistance. His threat had been just that, a threat. Somehow the sudden thought saddened Genieva, and she pushed herself from him, sitting down solidly on her bed.

“Let’s stop this foolishness,” she mumbled, restraining tears of hurt—for in those blessed brief moments, she had thought that he really did love her somehow. Or at least found her attractive—attractive enough to deem her worthy of his true affections.

Brevan sighed. Hunkering down before her, he took her hands in his. When she tried to pull them from his grasp, he tightened his grip.

“I can’t fool ya for long, lass…can I?” he said. Chuckling, he continued, “Ya know me well enough, ya do. Well enough to know I’d never force ya to do anythin’ ya didn’t want to do of yar own free will and decision. No matter what me own desires might be.”

Genieva looked to him quickly and asked, “What?”

Standing, he plopped himself abruptly down on the bed next to her. Lying back, he tucked his hands behind his head and explained, “I’ve wronged ya, Genieva, and I’m admittin’ it to ya here and now. It’s wrong I’ve been, to work ya like a jenny, expectin’ ya to do the chorin’ that Brian and me used to split when he was here.” He sat up and looked at her. His expression changed—softened with humility. “But I’m repentin’, and things are goin’ to be of a difference now.”

“What?” Genieva asked again. Her mind was still buzzing from his previous remarks. She wasn’t sure what his implications now were.

“I’m tellin’ ya that yar duties are changin’, lass…for the better. I do need help with certain things on the farm. It’s hard for me to get out and milk the cows mornin’ and evenin’ with everythin’ else tuggin’ at me. And the chickens…if ya could still see yar way to tendin’ them and gatherin’ the eggs. And I won’t lie to ya about the orchards…when the pears and apples need pickin’, it’ll take both of us and then some hired boys from town to get the job done. But ya’re me wife, not me slave, and the terrible pace ya’ve been keepin’ up needs to slow down. I realized it for sure and for certain last night when ya snapped at me so.”

“I’m sorry about that. I was just…”

“Very, very tired,” he finished for her. “I know that. And it’s me own fault, it is. I…I…” he stammered, looking away. “I don’t fear much in this world, but I do fear distraction, Genieva. It’s a life’s load of work on this farm that I have, and I admit to ya here and now…ya distract me. I think I worked ya so hard on purpose to make certain the both of us were so tired and testy at night that there would be no liveliness left for…any other…activities.”

Genieva’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at what he had just confessed to her. She turned to stare at him. Brevan looked back to her, having sensed her staring, and said, “Well, it’s a man I be, Genieva McLean! As regular a man as any other, and ya are a great deal better lookin’ than I had expected. It’s only natural that I should find ya…distractin’.”

“It’s why you wanted an older wife. You wanted a plump, perhaps unattractive woman that wouldn’t tempt your…” she began, but Brevan’s hand covered her mouth quickly, and he shook his head.

“Don’t speak of it. ’Twas a shallow and selfish thing to do, and I would like to put it as far behind me as I can,” he explained.

“…masculine needs,” Genieva finished, pushing his hand from her mouth.

“Needs have nothin’ to do with it, lass,” he corrected. “A man needs to work, to succeed at somethin’. If he can keep busy doin’ such things, the other needs can be put aside. But put the cute lass before him and in his path every day, and it’s distractin’ to him. And no amount of hard work keeps his mind and body from thinkin’ on the feel of her form in his arms and the taste of her mouth to his.”

“But…it’s only
me
you have here, Brevan. Surely I don’t cause…”

“I’ve confessed all I mean to confess to ya this night, Genieva,” Brevan interrupted, standing and looking down at her. “I’ve done a great wrong to ya, and I ask yar forgiveness with a promise to change me ways about it. Ya’ll still have to do the work of a farmer’s wife…the work Brenna and Lita do…but no more. From now on, I hope ya won’t be so tired that ya fly at me as ya did last night. At least, not as often.”

Genieva giggled, and when he looked at her—puzzled—she explained, “You were just battling with me last night then. You had me fooled, Brevan. I truly thought you intended…that just moments ago you were thinking of…”

The serious expression on his face caused her to pause.

“When I said it to ya last evenin’, I did mean it, Genieva. I meant to have ya here and now. But me mind has settled durin’ the day, and I realized the error of me ways in workin’ ya so hard. So I’ve let ya escape me…this time.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him, only to return a moment later, walk to her open window, and slam it firmly shut, securing the latch. “Ya’ll sleep with that window closed from now on, ya will. We can’t ignore the danger any longer.” He did leave then—for good.

Genieva lay awake for a long time. Her mind and emotions were whirling with activity as they reviewed over and over the things he had said to her. Could it be true? Could he really find her attractive? Enough so that he’d felt the need to find ways of occupying himself, and her, in order to avoid giving in to his desires? And would she really be able to live the life of a wife where chores were concerned, instead of that of a hired hand? At last, she fell into a deep slumber, remembering the taste of his mouth when he’d kissed her and the wondrous feel of his arms about her body.



It seemed the nightmare was reality, and she woke. Sitting upright and panting, she felt the cool beads of perspiration on her face mingling with the hot tears stinging her tired eyes. The nightmare was gone the moment she sat up, but the anxiety lingered, and she had to reassure herself of his well-being.

Tossing her blanket aside, Genieva fled from her room and down the hall to Brevan’s. Bursting in upon him, she sighed with relief as he sat up in his bed and grumbled, “What devil’s chasin’ ya in here at this hour, lass?”

Genieva closed her eyes for a moment—let her hands press firmly against her bosom in an effort to still the frantic, frightened pounding of her heart.

“I-I only had a nightmare, and it seemed so real. I had to be certain that you were…”

“I’ve been lyin’ here for hours, me eyes glued to the roof for lack of bein’ able to sleep, Genieva,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow. “The situation is serious with the Archuletas, lass. Juan Miguel and his boys mean me harm. They mean it for you too, for they don’t want me to have a child that might inherit me property.” He motioned with one hand for her to approach him. Pulling his sheet aside, he patted the mattress next to him. Genieva’s mouth dropped open at his inference.

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I…” she stammered.

“It is for me, lass. Ya’ll sleep here where I can know ya’re safe. And furthermore, ya won’t be needin’ to leap up from yar bed, runnin’ through the house like a madwoman to check on me because of yar bloomin’ nightmares.”

“It wouldn’t be proper, Brevan,” Genieva whispered, glancing about the room as if expecting to find spectators hidden in every corner.

Brevan chuckled. “It’s right, ya are. There’s not one married couple, not one wed man and woman in the world who would consider sharin’ the same bed, now is there?”

“It’s different, and you know it,” Genieva scolded, irritated at his sarcasm.

“Yes. It is. Now settle yarself in here with me, lass. I’m tired, and if ya make me get up and put ya here meself, I might take to snappin’ at ya the way ya do to me at times.” He patted the mattress again.

Inhaling deeply and summoning all the courage within her, Genieva let her feet carry her to Brevan’s bed. She sat down tentatively on the edge of it.

“There now,” he sighed as he turned from her, punching his pillow several times before laying his head on it finally. “It’s off to sleep with ya now, lass.” Genieva still waited several moments, trying to find the courage to lie down next to him. “Genieva,” Brevan growled. Quickly, she lay down, pulling the sheet protectively to her chin.

The overwhelming need to ask her question caused her heart to continue to pound furiously in her chest. She needed to hear it from him. He’d nearly said as much earlier that night in her bedroom. He’d implied it, but not said it as she needed to hear it. Her heightened anxiety and worry compelled her to ask him—straight and honest.

“Brevan,” Genieva whispered timidly.

“Hhmm?” he mumbled.

“Is it truly all right that I’m not what you hoped for?” she asked, unable to force her voice beyond a whisper. “I know someone more experienced and older perhaps would’ve done better for you…in all respects. Are you…will you truly be happy in life having settled on me?”

Brevan raised his head. Frowning, he turned over, propping himself up on one elbow again. Genieva looked away from him—afraid to see the answer in his eyes were it there. He was silent for several moments, and she began to feel ashamed at even venturing to put the question to him. Still, she needed to know. She needed to hear from his own mouth that he was satisfied with her—that perhaps there was a chance of his truly loving her one day. Not just be agitated by his physical desires for her.

“
No one else would’ve been for me, Genieva. You are everythin’ and all I wanted in a wife and so much more. For you and I, Genieva…” he lowered his voice and watched with delight as her eyes widened at his next utterance. “You and I are lovers as well, we are.”

“I can’t believe you’d mock me so,” she whispered, looking away from him in an effort to hide the tears in her eyes.

“I do not mock ya, lass,” Brevan whispered tenderly. Reaching out, he turned her to face him, brushing a tear from her temple with the back of his hand. “Think on it a moment. You and I
are
lovers, Genieva. It has been such since the first letters we wrote, it has.”

Genieva closed her eyes, sending more tears trickling from the corners of them to moisten the pillow beneath her head. “Ya dare not deny it, for I see it in the lavender flavor of yar eyes each time I touch ya or am near to ya as I am now. And I taste it on yar lips and mouth when I lose me sense and take me pleasure in them.” He took her face gently between his hands, turning her to look at him again. “I’ll put an end to yar feverish doubtin’, Genieva McLean. But I may raise a greater fever in ya the like ya’ve never imagined.”