Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters (42 page)

Asiza gasped.

Broc winced, trying to head off what he saw coming by the look on her face, nervous, he started, “Now, now - don’t be mad, let me explain…” he sputtered – humid mist rising as he spoke.

Relief swiftly followed by anger consumed Asiza. She wanted to kill him, “Yo-o-ou! What happened to you? Where have you been? Do you know how long you’ve been gone?!” She screeched, trying to talk through a need to scream at him. Frustration and heat engulfed her, tears welled up and spilled over as she stood with the cold flooding in from behind him. “Aaah, will’yah let me in?”

She snatched herself around, moving away from the door before she said anything more, trying to get her rioting emotions under control. The tears rolled with all the built up anxiety – she was shaking, “I should have left - went back with the others.” She blazed.

Broc came in, tossing his hat, after closing and latching the door while at the same time begging her to listen, “I swear lass, I meant to go and get right back-…”

“You’ve been drinking!” She cut him off accusingly, “I can smell it on you – you – inconsiderate louse! I thought you dead-…”

“Well I’m not - I-…”

“One can never know what the next moment will bring.” She threatened.

“Aaaah, don’ be like that - ya’gonna let me tell’yah what happened?”

“I can see for myself - you went to a saloon – while there, spent the time drinking and fighting!”

“Well – yes and no… not at first.” He tried once more to explain.

“I was about to go find help, thinking I would never see you again – with no clue where to look!” Her hysteria and adrenaline had to be spent, pouring from her as she swiped at the tracks of her tears. “I suppose this is just a look at what it will be like as your wife! Oh no you don’t – stay right there!” She warned as he made his way slowly across the space that separated them.

“’Seeza if you’d let m’talk, I could tell you what happened luv-…”

“Tell me from right there!” She demanded, moving back, running out of space to escape him. “Three hours - oh, the things that have gone through my mind!” Despite her words, he moved in some more, “’Seeza luv, please forgive me – I’m so sorry – ach… oh my head.” He feigned pain and dizziness, staggering back – making sure to be near a chair when he went down.

Asiza gasped in fear, immediately rushing to his side, “Oh Broc – sit, sit still – let me look at it. I could throttle you for this night.” Her tone had changed considerably, more concerned now than angry.

Standing between his knees, she took the cloth he was holding to his head, moving it away - gently parting his hair, checking his scalp.

“Pffft,” She shook her head, “…you smell of liquor.”

“Aye, I’ve had a few lass – but it was to watch the men you see…”

Milder, softer, “What men?” she asked, her ire dissipating. Concern for him worked to calm her as she found the cut on his scalp, hair was sticking to it, it needed cleaning and seeing to.

“White men, Englishmen – Frenchmen – the bastids – not one of’em to be trusted. They’re up to somethin’ – they’re after our goods.” He grumbled, in a predatory growl.

Asiza went to step back to see his face, to listen, but he grabbed her hips, pulling her back to him. “I’ve missed you lass, don’ leave me.” His strong hands gripped her buttocks firmly.

“Broc… I need to get water to clean your head – I’m not going anywhere. Now, go on, tell me what happened. How did this happen?”

He was reluctant to let her go, in fact, wrapped his arms tightly around her hips, cupping her rear still – his face buried in her midriff, nuzzling and inhaling her lovely scent. “I luv’ya lass, I luv’ya so – missed you mightily,” his lovely green eyes rolled up to meet hers, “…can we talk later?” He rumbled passionately.

“I have to see to you first – I can’t leave this cut-…”

“I’ve had worse – it’s nothin’.”

“You almost passed out, dizzy.” She reminded him.

He grinned, “That was to get you to me-…”

“Ach…” Asiza exclaimed, then smiled, which soon turned to laughter, “What am I to do with you.”

“Luv’me lass… luv’me with all your might, never stop – not ‘til the day I die,” He hugged her again, mumbling low, “…maybe not even then.”

“I do Broc, I do… with all my might I do. I think, I lose you - that alone will kill me.” Tears filled her eyes once more because every word she muttered came from her heart and soul.

She hugged him for a moment and then, pulling away, she palmed his face, moving his head back to look into his eyes. “Tell me what happened, while I see to that cut.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

While cleaning his injury, which turned out to be a lump beneath a shallow cut, needing nothing more than the cleaning she gave it, he explained what had been his plan while absent. Expounding upon his suspicions of the four men he’d hired. Asiza was stunned to learn how her husband saw other whites, especially the elite white, Englishmen of the aristocracy and those believing themselves of that caliber. It was while listening to him vent that she understood his bristled up and quiet-tight reaction to Suga and her husband. She didn’t interrupt him, but went on to listen as he explained how he had been willing to give the new men a chance – one that they’d blown.

He was convinced they were after their gold, their land. He swore that if that proved to be true, he would kill them – violently. He already felt sure of his suspicion. Following the fight – where he felt forced to side with Michael Webster, helping him with those who attacked him – he turned to find the four he had been spying on, were gathered around him. As for the Frenchmen, Pierre - he was nowhere to be found. He told her how he pretended that he hadn’t seen them sitting together, that he never brought it up to them.

As for the four, they were fumbling in their eagerness to feel him out, testing his reasons for being in the bar, asking how long he’d been there. His answers satisfied them, so their relief was visible.

Sitting across from Broc, Asiza nodded, “I see… and who was it that I heard you speaking to outside?”

Broc grinned, “Mike – his father an’ Leon. They come lookin’ for’im ya’see, and well – we won that fight. An’ I – well, couldn’t help but worry ‘bout when I come back here to you.”

They offered to explain, but I sent them on. Tha’s what yer’heard lass… all true.”

Asiza exhaled, nodding that she believed him.

He wouldn’t go into all that they’d discussed, he, Manny, Mike and Leon. One thing was certain, they agreed that the four newly hired were not to be trusted – so they had devised a plan of their own - a plan that gave Broc reason to relax now that he was back with his wife. Leaving those thoughts, his mind went to the here and now.

It would seem at the same time, they became aware of their surroundings. Realization made them go quiet with the fire crackling beside them. Broc was suddenly spellbound by her lovely presence. She’d removed the head scarf and using her fingers - she pulled and fluffed the curls out to stand wildly about her head. The thick mass framed a face so lovely Broc sat in disbelief that he had found
her
– that, they were married, and now she belonged to him.

His chest felt full, tight with what she did to him.

He could no longer delay loving her, and without a word, folded forward to undo the buckles of his boots. Wanting him just as badly, Asiza slid from her chair and eased across the short space to his feet, moving his hands aside to help him take off his boots, after them, his socks. As for Broc – he tossed aside his coat, his tie, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Before the fire, they worked together to strip him down – soon leaving only his breeches. When she reached for the buttons on them - he reached forward, palming the cheeks of her face, pulling her up and bringing her mouth to his.

Parting his lips, he devoured every breath she tried to take. Pulling and sucking on her full mouth – ravaging her in a way that said, this night, he would not stop – he did not have to. Asiza turned away to draw in a deep breath and found herself swiftly lifted from the floor into her husband’s arms – where he wasted no time making his way to the waiting bed. Upon landing in its center, Asiza shrugged her shoulders to rid herself of the delicate wrap. At the same time, Broc rid himself of the last obstacle that came between them. His breeches fell to his ankles, for him to kick them aside, leaving them on the floor as he climbed in bed, crawling towards the middle and his wife.

Asiza fought to calm her erratic heartbeat, the raging passion that promised to set her aflame. Coming alive, all the tingling erogenous zones of her body throbbed with desire. Her nipples beaded into stiff pebbles – so much so they ached with a need she’d never felt until this man.

Below, she felt wet, flooded so that she wanted something to ease her before she went mad - the awakened beast within was taking over and transforming her into someone else. “Broc…” his name was a plea for help. Planting feather light kisses upon the soft skin of her temples, brow, cheek and corner of her mouth, Broc worked to pace himself – his body was tight as a drawn bow, pulled taut for launching an arrow.

The bull’s-eye … Asiza.

Her whimpering, helpless plea was emphasized by her undulating body, twisting and flexing with a need to be satisfied.

With his mouth on hers, he applied pressure to lay her back, to coax her into letting him help her – to soothe flames that could no longer be doused.

“Broc…” she groaned, offering her breasts, arching her back.

His large hand eased the panel of her sheer negligee aside to bare a full pert breast, the dark nipple standing high not to be missed.

Sensitive like no other time in her life, Asiza thought she left her body when his warm moist mouth covered the point - using the moist tip of his tongue, he danced around it, firmly flicking at it, up and down, side to side, bringing his large hand to the mound to cup and squeeze while he gently sucked.

Delirium made the bed spin beneath her. The room seemed to rock and sway – her mind could not settle into what her husband was doing to her body. He was all over her, his hands touching, caressing bared flesh and skimming over the soft surface of her thighs in rapt fascination. Soon, he removed the gown entirely so that he had full access to her luxurious brown skin. Between sucking kisses, he paused mere seconds to murmur her name, passionate exclamations of disbelief that she was his this night, “Aye lass, ‘Seeza – I so longed for this… I’ah try not t’hurt ya’ – I’ah try not…” – and - “…aluvya lass… m’wife – aluvya so… so soft… lovely… aaah lass…” He wanted her so powerfully that he feared he might hurt her if his urgent passion wasn’t checked.

At that point, Asiza didn’t care what he did to her – she was his for the taking. He rubbed his hairy body against her silken one in a mating ritual as old as man’s and woman’s history together. He stimulated his hard length between them, gyrating and grinding against her softness. Unable to resist the need, Asiza’s legs spread for him - her head gently thrashing about when his large hand found its way to her heat below.

The feel of his fingers touching her wet mound, and then finally sliding into where the throb was at its highest, made her catch her bottom lip between her teeth, resisting an urge to cry out. He massaged the puckering flesh with tender, practiced strokes that brought her nerve endings to a full awakening.

She was swollen and hot – rolling her mound to him and hungering for his touch - for his penetration.

“Broc… please… please…” she moaned, begging him to end her torture – to fill the need that had her squirming and mewing.

“Shhh, not yet. Aaah lass, I’ve been dreamin’ of this night – no hurry … no hurry.” He panted in between kisses, rubbing and touching her so that she gently humped at his hand, the movements’ jerky. Her body tensed and relaxed, trying to find a rhythm to move to, her focus keen as the urgency built the more he rubbed her tender place.

“Tha’s it lass, tha’s it… aaah, look at’ya,” He kissed along her neck. Down her chest he searched capturing a nipple once more, rolling his tongue over the distended point. Below, his fingers worked against her, moving more firmly until she grabbed his hand – held on to it and groaned – her body quivering, she was about to climax. Unsure of what was about to happen, she whimpered from the heavy tingling until it reached such an intensity that she couldn’t keep it in. Her head began thrashing and twisting so, he feared for her neck. And then it happened, a burst of something so acute, so soul-shattering, she cried out as if in pain. It ripped through her without stopping.

Broc held her, gently kissing her back down to earth - soothing her by covering her face with his love. Soft pecks to the corner of her mouth, chin, nose, eyes, and side of her face until reaching the length of her neck. Comforting her until her breathing returned to normal. He held her, murmuring tender words, sounding more Irish while in the throes of passion.

He kept his body tight against her, leaning over to search her eyes should they open to him. They finally did - moist, dreamy and dazed with love and wonder.

“I want you, with all my heart, I want you.” She pleaded, a tear rolled from the corner of her eye. Her arms went around his strong body, pulling him onto her, spreading her thighs to cradle him there.