The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) (25 page)

"Lacey," Hawke called from the bowels of the barn. "I need your help in here, and I need it now." As if to punctuate the statement further, both Dolly and Phantom cut loose with shrill whinnies, startling her to action.

"Coming," she cried, rushing inside the huge building. As her eyes adjusted to the darker lighting, she saw Hawke standing in front of the sturdily built hitching rail he'd erected in the center of the barn. There he did everything from trimming hooves to doctoring sick animals, and apparently... breeding them, too.

Out of breath for more reasons than one now, Lacey stopped just short of Dolly. The horses were continually calling to each other by now, their shrill cries filling the inside of the barn with a deafening clamor. She shouted over the din. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stand right where you are. I'm going to run Dolly by Phantom a time or two. She's never been bred before and might be a little afraid." Hawke turned away from the mare and focused on his wife. "It's all right, though. Phantom will know how to relax her and make her want him as much as he wants her. It's his job. Just be ready to take her if I call on you."

Lacey nodded, but she had the strangest feeling that Hawke was talking more about her than the horses. Mesmerized as the drama between the equines unfolded, she dismissed the thought and watched as Hawke brought Dolly lengthwise against the stallion's stall. The mare squealed and kicked out at the wooden door separating her from the stud. Phantom arched his neck and reached out to her from over the top of the door, and she quieted in an instant. Nickering low but continually, he nuzzled her withers, then moved slowly down her spine, nuzzling and lightly nipping at her as he went along. When he reached her croup just short of her wrapped tail, the nickering grew louder, the nips more passionate. Dolly, responding to the stud, flipped her tail to one side and sprayed the stall door. Phantom raised his head high, stretching his magnificent silvery neck to its full length, and curled his upper lip to better enjoy Dolly's scent. Then he cut loose with a savage scream.

"That's it for now, friend," said Hawke as he forcefully led the excited mare away from the stall. Moving quickly now, he tied Dolly firmly to the hitching rail, then turned to Lacey. Things were going just as he'd planned with both the animals
and
his wife, if the look in Lacey's eyes meant what he hoped it did. Not only did she appear to be fascinated by the horses, but he thought he glimpsed more than a passing interest in her husband there, too.

"Come here, Irish," he said in hushed tones. She immediately moved over to where he stood, away from the animals, but in clear view of them. "I'm going to get Phantom now, and if all goes well, just the sight of you nearby will keep Dolly calm enough for her to behave. If I need you, I'll tell you exactly what to do. Got it?"

"Aye," is what she said, but it came out as more of a sigh. Flashing that dazzling smile her way one more time, Hawke turned and started for the stallion, his back and the wide expanse of muscle there glistening in the semidarkness. Lacey caught her breath, then took another as Hawke released the latch and led the sleek stallion out of the enclosure toward the mare. The horses were calling to one another again, but Lacey paid no mind to the racket they caused. She was listening to her husband as he spoke to the animals, concentrating on the calm, firm manner in which he guided the powerful stud. There was no doubt to her or the beasts as to who was in control of the situation here.

"Easy, Phantom," Hawke said in that low dark voice. "Remember your manners, and speak softly to the lady. She's not going anywhere."

The stallion tossed his head impatiently, but didn't make a move that wasn't orchestrated by his master. When Hawke guided Phantom around to Dolly's haunches, Lacey saw that the stud was erect and so huge, she could hardly believe it. She gasped involuntarily, then quickly averted her gaze.

"Don't worry, Irish," came Hawke's soothing voice. "Remember they're made for each other, a perfect fit. Watch, you'll see."

His voice as captivating as his gaze by now, Lacey slowly turned in time to see Hawke lead the stallion up close to the mare. Then he gave Phantom the signal to mount Dolly. The stud rose majestically above the little bay, but lowered himself onto her back with a surprising gentleness, a lightness which didn't seem possible of this thousand-pound beast.

In spite of Phantom's gentle manner and his strict adherence to the rules set down by Hawke, Lacey cringed as the steed joined with Dolly. She started to look away, but then realized that the mare did not seem to be in any pain. In fact, not only was she pain-free, but the little bay had turned her neck around as far as she could get it, and was rubbing her nose against the stallion's muzzle as if kissing him. After a few powerful lunges, the mating was over. Now it was Dolly who nickered, Dolly who appeared the more aggressive of the two animals.

After guiding Phantom through a mannerly dismount, Hawke moved the stallion a safe distance away from the mare. Then he glanced at Lacey from over the exhausted stud's back, locking her in his gaze.

She wondered if he could see that she was trembling, short of breath, and completely consumed by what she'd witnessed here—consumed by that and the sudden image of Hawke joining with her, their steaming bodies entwined as one. At the thought, Lacey grew hot all over, filled with strange and wonderful urges, most of them the needy kind. Very, very needy. But in spite of all that, she was sure she could get control of herself. At least, she had been sure until it occurred to her that Hawke might be thinking of the two of them together as well. She studied his dark expression, looking deeply into his eyes, and thought that maybe he was.

After that, Lacey was lost. As much under Hawke's control as the horses had been. She would do whatever he asked of her. Strangest and most surprising of all, the idea didn't trouble her in the least. She just stood there, basking in the heat of her husband's intense gaze, and waited for him to make the next move.

Encouraged by what he saw in his wife's eyes, Hawke quickly put Phantom back into the stall, then walked Dolly directly to an enclosure several doors away. He did this without taking the usual precaution of walking the mare around a while, something he usually did to ensure retention of the stallion's seed. But today, Hawke wasn't particularly interested in breeding horses. Today, he was interested only in his wife. And if he hadn't completely misread her expression, she was fiercely aroused. Ready, at last, to give herself to him.

Swiftly crossing over to where Lacey stood, Hawke swept her into his arms. Muttering low under his breath, the sound not so unlike one of Phantom's nickers, he said, "Did you see anything ghastly between those two, Irish?"

She shook her head, unable to find words.

Hawke grinned, then slipped his hand down Lacey's spine and tugged her up tight against his hips. "Do you understand now that lovemaking, and all that goes with it, is nature's way and nothing to be afraid of?"

Blushing violently, her breath coming more rapidly than before, again she nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak.

"Good. Then maybe now you'll understand the need I was talking about before. I want you, Lacey." His voice dropped even lower, became guttural. "I want you badly." Hawke reached down to take her hand, then carefully placed her palm against his groin. His eyes closed, and a husky growl escaped his lips.

Lacey tried to pull away from him at first, but Hawke held her hand fast, insisting that she touch him and learn the depth of his terrible need. She allowed herself this, feeling the hardness of him through damp buckskin and the moist heat radiating through his trousers. Then, a surge of reckless desire driving her on, she allowed more, giving her fingers the freedom to travel along the entire length of that hardness. When she finally reached the tip, Lacey gasped and stepped out of Hawke's embrace.

"Oh, goodness, and by all that's holy. I don't think that I can accommodate you, sir." Lacey snuck a quick peek at what she'd felt, then rolled her eyes.

Chuckling softly, Hawke said, "We're made for each other, remember? A perfect fit."

"Aye, I remember what you said about the horses, but I think there must be something wrong with me, for I cannot imagine that I have the part you'd be needing to, to... " She waved her fingers in the general direction of his crotch. "To make this fit."

Laughing out loud now, Hawke took Lacey's hand in his. "Why don't we give it a try anyway, Mrs. Winterhawke? You might be pleasantly surprised."

'Tis on her own account the cat purrs.

—A common Irish saying

Chapter 13

The question he'd asked Lacey was purely rhetorical.

Hawke didn't even pretend to wait for his wife's reply. In spite of her insistence that their pairing could never work, he just swept her off her feet and carried her to a stall he'd filled with fresh bedding straw not more than an hour ago. He hadn't really planned on staying in the barn, but since a few doubts had already crept into Lacey's mind, Hawke was afraid she'd cool off by the time they made it to the house. As for those doubts, he suspected her protests were not protests at all, but pleas for him to reassure her that all would be fine.

Dropping to his knees, Hawke gently laid his wife down in the straw. He flipped his head, sending the long dark strands of his hair over his left shoulder, then lowered himself to her side. Lacey stiffened as he reached for her. "Relax, Irish," he whispered. "It's all right to be afraid of the unknown; that's nature's way of protecting you from harm, but please don't be afraid of me."

"I—I am trying to be brave, husband, but I honestly cannot see how this will work." It struck her that impossible as it seemed, she really did want this to work. She wanted Hawke.

"Tell you what," he murmured, scattering kisses across her cheeks and lips. "If I do anything you don't like, you tell me and I'll stop." At least, he was reasonably sure he could. "Fair enough?"

"Aye, 'tis more than fair." As she realized that she'd given him more than her trust—permission to proceed—the fire smoldering in Lacey's body flared, turning her cheeks bright enough to rival her hair. When Hawke reached for the buttons at the throat of her blouse and began to release them, she made no move to stop him, but squeezed her eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" he asked, wondering at her pained expression.

Lifting just one eyelid a crack, Lacey peered at him. "Nothing, I hope, but I cannot watch."

Lacey could hear Hawke's laughter, a kind of warm, low chuckle as he came to her and stretched his big body across hers. Then he began to smother her with kisses, most of them deeply passionate, others playful pecks not so unlike the gentle nips Phantom had given Dolly. In between kisses, he muttered short, endearing little phrases about how cute and shy she was, even as his hands busied themselves with her blouse, tugged at her skirt, and most enjoyably, caressed her skin as if he were putting a shine to a most delicate piece of china. It wasn't until those hands reached forbidden territory—her breasts—that Lacey realized he'd stripped her from the waist up.

"Stop," she cried, remembering his promise. She threw her arms across her breasts, then her eyes popped open to meet those of her husband. His chiseled face was less than an inch away from hers, and his eyes had turned an impossibly dark color, almost black, not green. His breathing was shallow, but labored at the same time. And when he finally spoke, his voice sounded husky, as if coming from a very tight throat.

"What's wrong, Irish?"

She glanced down at her chest. "I don't seem to have... you have... I'm naked, sir."

Hawke's lips were set in a grim line, but Lacey could see that he was having trouble keeping that expression. The corners of his mouth wobbled and twitched a few moments before he finally said, "From what I understand, what we're doing here is much easier to accomplish without clothing. Besides, you may not want to watch, but I can't wait to have a good look at you. Do you mind so very much?"

Lacey bit her bottom lip. He wanted to look at her—naked? "I think... yes. I think that I do mind. That is, of course, if you don't mind."

Hawke minded one hell of a lot, but he gave in to her modesty. For now. Reaching across her to where he'd tossed her camisole in the straw, he collected the garment, then draped it across her breasts.

"Better now?" he asked. When Lacey nodded and gave him a shy smile, he slipped his hand beneath the blouse and slowly inched his fingers back toward her nipples. She opened her mouth—perhaps to protest—but Hawke quickly covered her lips with his own, kissing her hard, deep, and long; long enough that he had time to caress the crowns of her soft little breasts and coax their peaks to hard, tight nubs.