“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to ruin your invitation.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Blame it on the size of the balls between my legs, but I press my luck even further, trailing my lips down her temple and across the satin of her cheek. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. Even though I’m still conflicted and angry on her behalf, satisfaction at this sign of progress improves my mood.
So much progress.
“So that’s a yes?” I drop my hand and step back a few inches.
Mara nods hesitantly, and my pride grows even more. She’s so much stronger than she knows.
I snag my hat and a bright red apple while she secures our baby to her chest somehow with a blanket, then we leave. Mara cuts a bittersweet glance to the flowerbeds, and I wonder why.
At any rate, her expression lightens more and more as we head to the field by the barn. This is just what both of us need to chase away the lingering heaviness. Hard to be out of sorts on such a crisp, fall day with just the right amount of clouds fluffing up the sky and leaves crunching beneath our every step.
Or maybe it’s too cold for her. Shit. “Need me to go back and get you another blanket?”
Mara shakes her head and pats Emmaline’s bottom through the makeshift sling. “I’m not cold.”
I search for any hint of polite deception, but there’s only truth in her face.
“Thank you for offering, though,” she tacks on a bit more shyly, making something inside my chest twinge with protective pride. Only two weeks ago, her tone would have been terse—and rightly so—but now that trust is building between us, she’s less guarded with her expressions. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make her comfortable enough to stay that way.
“That’s her over there.” I point to a small brown form at the other end of the field. “Rosie…” I call out. “C’mere, girl.”
Nothing.
I roll my eyes. “Dang heifer ignores me unless she thinks she’s gonna get something out of it for herself. Got an apple for you!” I wave it around, and that’s all it takes for her to trot over, tail swishing in rhythm with the bobbing of her head as she utters a strong moo. “Look at you, you badthing. You come up for treats but nothing else.” I pull out my knife and cut it into quarters before giving one to Mara. “Here, you wanna feed it to her? Just mind all the slobber.”
Tucking Emmaline closer, she lightly laughs at Rosie’s impatient bellow and subsequent wet nudge. I knew my wife was beautiful, but goddammit if she doesn’t look downright radiant when she’s happy.
Mara covers our baby’s ear when Rosie moos again. “Goodness, she’s so noisy.” The calf devours the treat from her palm and accepts a few pats and side thumps, but once it’s clear that no more treats are forthcoming, she flounces off in displeasure.
I tip my hat and lift my elbow. “M’lady, may I offer you the use of my arm as I escort you about our fine premises?” A redness that can’t be attributed to the late fall breeze darkens her cheeks, but she places her smaller hand in the crook of my elbow.
For the next twenty minutes, we walk the fence line behind the barn and around the house, and I show her just how far out the property goes. Plenty of room for Emmaline and any of our other children to play as they grow older. As if she heard me thinking about her and her future siblings, our baby grunts and fusses.
“What’s the matter, my darling girl?” Mara bounces and soothes her, but after more than a month of hearing all the noises she makes, even I know what this one means.
“Think she can last until we get back?” I cast a doubtful look at the house in the distance and then at Little Bit’s scowling face. I swear, I’ve never seen a mother and baby look so much alike as these two do with their scowls.
“Umm…” Mara glances to the house as well. “No, I think I’m going to have to feed her here.”
Here. Where there’s nowhere for her to sit. Except for… “C’mon.” There’s a giant oak nearby that’s probably a hundred years or so, judging by the sprawling roots and branches that hang low and wide, but they’re still too high for her with a baby in tow. Instead, I take Mara’s elbow and lead her to the leftover stump of another close tree that was struck by lightning last year. “Not the fanciest, but it’ll do in a pinch, I’m supposing.”
Emmaline’s cries soon quiet when she gets what she wants. There’s not too much of her in view besides her dark fluff of hair because of how Mara situates the blanket to keep her warm. I don’t rightly know where exactly to put my eyes, but I guess that’s okay because they sure seem to make themselves at home by traveling down her neck and resting on a sliver of bare skin. And God forgive me for these lustful thoughts creeping in about my wife’s chest when she’s very clearly still traumatized from her past, but I’ll be damned if she doesn’t have the prettiest pair of breasts I’ve ever seen.
Which, granted, hasn’t been many.
Actually, if I’m being entirely honest, it’s none. Or at least not all the way. None beyond what spilled out of the scooped necklines of flirting girls at town socials. While I may have taken a peek like any curious, red-blooded man would, looking’s all I’ve ever done besides a few kisses here and there. So I’m very much looking forward to getting acquainted with Mara’s breasts and lips once she’s ready.
But I better quit thinking about those full, smooth beauties because feeling this way after what she told me before would make me a sick man, and that’s the last thing I?—
Too late.
Shit.
I attempt to discreetly adjust the thickening bulge in my trousers, but the damn thing only throbs with a rush of intensity because it’s being touched. Doesn’t matter that it’smy own hand doing the touching. Damn it, I can’t be feeling this way when she’s feeding our daughter. That’s just wrong. Gotta think of something the opposite of Mara.
Old instead of young.
