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Chapter Five
Morning came damned early when a man had regrets about the night before. It wasn’t the first time Asa had realized this, but it was the first time he’d felt the regret so keenly. It might have something to do with the way Elizabeth was bustling around the small kitchen, a picture of wifely contentment. Damn, the woman was so green she didn’t even know she’d been shortchanged. He sipped his coffee and listened as she hummed. How the hell was he supposed to explain to her she was still a virgin? That he’d been so hot for her, he’d gone off like a firecracker? Hell, what man in his right mind even confessed something so humiliating to his wife?
Then again, how could he not? The first time they made love for real, she was bound to take note. Especially if first times were as painful as he’d heard. He looked Elizabeth up and down from her white shirtwaist to her black shoes peeking from beneath her navy blue skirt. Hell, there wasn’t enough of her to play in a strong wind. He’d probably about kill her if they ever did get around to a real first time.
Which brought him to another question winging around his mind. Where in hell had she gotten the notion to use her mouth on him? No woman had ever done that for him before. He didn’t expect it of whores, and he sure hadn’t planned on asking for it from a lady. Especially one as proper as his wife. Brent popped immediately to mind. The man was a bully, all right. He wouldn’t think twice about putting his own pleasure above a woman’s. Even on their wedding night.
Asa shot Elizabeth another sidelong glare. That was another thing he planned on his wife learning. He wasn’t a selfish man. Last night hadn’t been normal for him. She’d caught him by surprise, that was all. He blamed the novelty for his mad rush to the finish line.
He leaned back when Elizabeth came to the table to remove his plate. The sweet high curves of her breasts came into view. He imagined he could see her nipples through the material of her dress. He remembered how they’d felt against his tongue, round, hard, demanding. And realized he was aroused. Again.
He groaned under his breath. He was pretty sure Miss Penelope had all sorts of rules against husbands and wives coming together while the sun still shone.
He grabbed his coffee in disgust. He moved so fast, some sloshed over the brim. “Shit!”
The curse exploded into the air. Hearing it, Elizabeth took a steadying breath. Dealing with an angry man took patience. Control. Calm. Everything she didn’t feel at this moment. As far as she could see, her husband had nothing to be cursing about. That being the case, she’d much rather bring the frying pan down on his belligerent head, but, as she expected all she’d accomplish would be a denting of her best pan, she needed to come up with another plan. She turned away from the stove. It was immediately obvious why Asa was mad. He’d spilled hot coffee down his shirt.
“Are you okay?” she asked with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of wifely concern.
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
As if she hadn’t heard the anger in his tone, she handed him a napkin. “This may help.”
“Thanks.” He took it and had the grace to look ashamed for his curt answer in the face of her courtesy. At least, she preferred to assume it was shame. Thinking he had some sense of common decency made it easier to hold her temper. The man had been a bear ever since she’d brought him warm wash water this morning. He’d gone from astonishment when she’d carried it into the room to anger by the time she’d left with his dirty clothes. Her hopes that he was just grumpy when first up had been dashed when he’d come downstairs. He’d been pensive and snappy through three helpings of breakfast.
She watched as he tossed back the last of his coffee. She hefted the pot and carried it to the table. Maybe more coffee would improve his mood. “Would you like more?”
“No.” Apparently, coffee wasn’t the solution for Asa as it had been for her father.
She drew in another breath. The towel she’d wrapped around the speckled handle of the coffee pot fluttered as she strove for patience. “Would you care for more breakfast? There are home fries left and it would only take a few minutes to fry up—”
“I’m not hungry,” he interrupted.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” At least, not as much trouble as his growl.
“I’m sure.” He shot her a look she couldn’t decipher, heaved a sigh that echoed hers, and then expanded in a more natural tone. “After three helpings, I’m not even sure I can move, let alone walk to the bunkhouse and meet the men.”
