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One thing about getting up at four-thirty: she was already sleepy, and it was only eight. Of course, she was still feeling the effects of not getting enough sleep for the past two weeks, as well as a very active day, but she could barely hold her eyes open.
She heard Reese come upstairs and go into their bedroom; then he called, “Maddie?” in a rougher voice than usual.
“In here,” she called.
He appeared in the doorway, and his eyes sharpened as he took in the clothes piled on the bed. “What’re you doing?” There was an oddly tense set to his shoulders.
“I’m hanging the clothes I won’t use in here, so they won’t clutter up our closet.”
Maybe it was only her imagination, but he appeared to relax. “Are you ready to go to bed?”
“Yes, I can finish this tomorrow.”
He stood aside to let her get past him, then turned out the light and followed her down the hall. Madelyn was barefoot and in another thin gown much like the one she’d worn the night before, and she got that dwarfed, suffocated feeling again, sensing him so close behind her. The top of her head would just reach his chin, and he had to weigh at least two hundred pounds, all of it muscle. It would be easy to let herself be intimidated by him, especially when she thought of lying beneath him on that big bed. She would be going to bed with him like this for the rest of her life. Maybe he had doubts about the longevity of their marriage, but she didn’t.
It was easier this time. She lay in his muscular arms and felt the warmth grow under his stroking hands. But now that she was less nervous she sensed something wrong, as if he were keeping part of himself separate from their lovemaking. He touched her, but only under strict control, as if he were allowing himself only so much enjoyment and not a bit more. She didn’t want those measured touches, she wanted his passion. She knew it was there, she sensed it, but he wasn’t giving it to her.
It still hurt when he entered her, though not as much as before. He was gentle, but he wasn’t loving. This was the way he would have treated either of those other two women he’d been willing to marry, she thought dimly, as a body he’d been given the use of, not as a warm, loving woman who needed more. This was only sex, not making love. He made her feel like a faceless stranger.
This was war. As she went to sleep afterward, she was planning her campaign.
“I WANT TO go with you today,” she said the next morning over breakfast.
He didn’t look up from his eggs and biscuits. “You’re not up to it.”
“How do you know?” she retorted.
He looked annoyed. “Because a lot of men aren’t up to it.”
“You’re repairing fencing today, right? I can help you with the wire and at least keep you company.”
That was exactly what Reese didn’t want. If he spent a lot of time in her company he’d end up making love to her, and that was something he wanted to limit. If he could hold himself to once a night, he’d be able to keep everything under control.
“It’ll only take a couple of hours to finish repairing the fence, then I’ll bring the truck home and go back out on horseback to move the herd.”
“I told you, I can ride.”
He shook his head impatiently. “How long has it been since you’ve been on a horse? What kind of riding did you do, tame trail riding on a rented hack? This is open country, and my horses are trained to work cattle.”
“Granted, it’s been almost a year since I’ve been on a horse, but I know all about liniment. I have to get used to it sometime.”
“You’d just be in the way. Stay here and see if you can have dinner done on time tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Reese Duncan, I’m going with you and that’s final.”
He got up from the table. “You’d better learn that this is my ranch, and what I say goes. That includes you. A few words by a judge doesn’t give you any say-so in my work. I do the ranch work, you take care of the house. I want fried chicken for dinner, so you can get started on that.”
“There isn’t any chicken in the freezer,” she retorted. “Since you don’t want me to go shopping, I guess you’ll have to change your request.”
He pointed out to the yard. “There are plenty of chickens out there, city slicker. Meat doesn’t always come shrink-wrapped.”
Madelyn’s temper was usually as languorous as her walk, but she’d had enough. “You want me to catch a chicken?” she asked, tight-lipped. “You don’t think I can do it, do you? That’s why you said it. You want to show me how much I don’t know about ranch life. You’ll have your damn chicken for dinner, if I have to ram it down your throat feathers and all!”
She turned and stormed up the stairs. Reese stood there, a little taken aback. He hadn’t known Madelyn could move that fast.
She was back downstairs before he could get the truck loaded and leave. He heard the back door slam and turned. His eyes widened. She had strapped protective pads on her knees and elbows, with the kneepads over her jeans. She’d put on athletic shoes. She still looked furious, and she didn’t even glance at him. Reese hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned against the truck to watch.
She picked out a hen and eased up to it, scattering a few handfuls of feed to lure the bird. Reese lifted his eyebrows, impressed. But she made her move just a little too soon; the hen squawked and ran for her life with Madelyn in pursuit.
