My Sassy Settler (Willamette Wives Book 2) (7 page)

"Is it ready?"

"Yes. I just need to scrape it out and put it in the molds."

"Before you do, come here.

"Oh, thank you," she almost shouted and ran to the table, throwing herself over the side and almost knocking the butter molds to the floor.

"Don't thank me yet," he said as he lifted her clothing. When her hands reached back, he grinned but patted them. "Hold onto the edge of the table. We're not done."

She moaned but obeyed, reaching to grip the opposite edge.

He could see that the juices from the root had slid down her thighs. He could also see that her cream had added to the moisture. Anna was one of those rare women whose body reacted with pleasure even when she was being punished. It didn't negate the fact that she truly felt the discipline; it simply meant that he was a very lucky man.

Picking up the paddle he'd brought from the bedroom, he stepped to the side. Placing one hand on her lower back, he heard her gasp. "Stay in position and it will only be two."

"Yes, sir."

He landed the first stroke on the lower half of her right buttock. She yelped and her foot lifted, but she didn't release the table. Stepping to the other side, he placed the second stroke on her left cheek. This stroke was followed by her moan and another foot lift.

"Good girl. You can rise."

"But I thought you were going to take it out!"

"You thought wrong." He helped her to stand and then tucked the back of her skirts up into her waistband. "I believe I told you that you'd hold your plug until you finished your chore and could tell me the lesson you've learned."

Her mouth opened and then closed as she accepted the fact that she was not the one in charge. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then pointed to the molds. "The only thing that's better than seeing fresh butter is seeing that same design on the arse of the woman who worked so hard to make it."

Her green eyes widened and two hands reached back to cup freshly paddled cheeks. "You didn't!"

He chuckled and pulled her hands off her backside. "I did. I loved the butter dance you did, and decided it would be even more entertaining to watch you finish with a pair of beautiful roses decorating your bum."

"Richard!" She blushed hotly and then shook her head. "And you call me incorrigible!"

He swatted her lightly. "I'll scrape out the churn if you'll grab the paddles."

Anna brought him the two wooden paddles and held the bowl as he scooped out the freshly churned butter. She carried the bowl and he moved a chair from the table and took a seat.

"Though I love your beautiful face, that's not the body part I'm interested in at the moment. Turn around and show me your arse." He loved the blush that suffused her cheeks almost as much as he loved the two rose imprints the paddle had imprinted on her nether cheeks. But, what he most especially loved was the fact that he could see her sweet cream gathered in the lips of her pussy. His cock lengthened and for the first time, he was the one who wished the weekly churning was completed. When she looked over her shoulder and smiled, wiggling her butt from side to side, he shook his head.

"Like I said, absolutely incorrigible."

Chapter Five

Agatha put her hands on her husband's shoulders as he placed his at her waist to lift her from the wagon. She laughed when he swung her in a circle, remembering how her Pa used to twirl her around until she was quite dizzy before releasing her to collapse onto the ground. Sounds of her own laughter brought back memories of hearing her Ma scold her husband, but the three had known it was all in fun. She was snapped back to the present when instead of simply letting her slip to the ground, she was slowly slid down, her breasts pressing against the rock hard chest of the man who held her.

Once her feet were planted firmly back on the ground, her husband still didn't release her. His head bent and his mouth descended onto hers. She felt his tongue slide across her lips and goosebumps rise on her skin. She almost smiled when she realized that her toes were actually attempting to curl inside her shoes, as if she were the damsel in distress being claimed by her hero in any of the romance stories she loved to read. When Wyatt's tongue pushed through her lips to delve into her mouth and his hands moved from her waist to cup her bottom, she stiffened, suddenly recalling an angry face and a thundering voice spewing out words that had torn at her soul.

"Don't."

"I'm sor—"

"No, don't apologize." Wyatt bent down to press her forehead to hers. "Let him go, Agatha."

"I-I'm not sure I can."

He pulled her closer and they stood, her head tucked beneath his chin. She wrapped her arms around his waist when he held her just a bit tighter. "I can't do it alone. I don't know how."

"I'm here," he said softly. "I'll always be here. I love you, Aggy. I will help and together we'll banish the bastard forever."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." He set her away just enough so that he could bend and kiss her again, this time gently. His lips moved from hers but only a short distance as he kissed the tip of her nose and then her forehead. By the time he straightened, she'd relaxed a bit and was able to give him a smile.

"Why don't you start breakfast while I unhitch the team?" he said.

"Oh, I thought…"

Her face heated as his lips slowly turned up into a smile that had his dimples deepening and a fire beginning in the pit of her belly.

"You have the proper thought, just not the correct timing. I am going to spank you but we both need to eat. In fact, add some fried potatoes to whatever Anna put in the basket. We'll both need our strength."

Agatha nodded, a bit worried that if he had any more strength, he'd be able to snap her in two. He was a large man, and not an ounce of that size was fat. The heat inside her grew as a picture of his bare chest flashed across her mind.

"Aggy?"

"Um, oh, what?"

"Where did you go? You looked a mile away."

Hoping that the sun made it impossible for him to detect how red her face must be, she shook her head. It was certainly improper for her to be picturing him unclothed out in the middle of the yard in broad daylight. "I was just thinking."

His hands ran down her sides slowly, not resting until he once again had his palms cupped around her nether cheeks. "Don't worry, Agatha. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

"I never thought you would," she said, honestly.

After patting her backside, he reached into the wagon to pick up the basket. Holding it out towards her, he lifted his eyebrow. "Can you handle this?"

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the basket, then lifted to his. "It doesn't look that heavy." She reached for it, only to have him lift it above her head.

"I don't know," he drawled, allowing the basket to sway from side to side. "I suppose the question should be whether I can trust you with the contents."

"The contents?"

His lips twitched and he gave a shrug. "Well, darlin', there are eggs…"

Her eyes instantly dropped to his shirt where she could see the dried remains of that morning's attack. About to apologize again, she heard him chuckling. Stepping forward, she ran a hand down the left side of his shirt and the fire inside her flamed a little hotter when she heard him draw in a deep breath as her fingertips circled a spot over his heart. Lifting her right hand, she placed it against his chest as well. From the corner of her eye she could see that he'd lowered his arm.

Shaking her head, she looked up to find him staring down at her. "To be honest, I'm not sure," she said.

"Sure?"

God, she loved the hitch in his breath as she continued to run her fingertips in circles. She lost her train of thought as she once again imagined him shirtless. What would his reaction be if her fingers were running across his bare skin? What would he do if she just happened to touch his nipple? The few times his hands had brushed across her breasts or when his fingertips had grazed the tips, they'd tightened and ached. What would it feel like if he…

"Aggy?" His voice startled her and she gasped when he pulled her closer.

"Wha-what?"

"Remember that cure you still need to provide?"

She was confused until he pulled her even closer, his hand on her backside as he pressed his groin into her belly. Her gasp was loud as she felt the distinct bulge even with the barrier of their clothing. His deep throated chuckle had her blushing.

"Now what were you saying?"

"Saying?" God, she couldn't think straight.

"About the eggs."

"Eggs?"

His chuckle turned into full laughter as he patted her bum and stepped back. "I believe you were telling me you were unsure if you could handle the basket?"

"Oh, um, yes… I mean, yes, I can."

He grinned and offered her the basket, waiting until she took it in both hands. "Good, because I'm starving." She trembled as he bent to kiss her forehead. "And, my sassy girl, the quicker we eat, the faster you can provide your healing touch."

She couldn't think of a single thing to say. He chuckled again. "I'll take care of the horses." She nodded as he stepped away. After a deep breath, she felt she could trust her trembling legs enough to carry her to the house. She'd just stepped up onto the porch when he spoke again.

"Don't you touch the eggs."

Turning back, she gave him a smile. "How am I going to cook them if I don't? I'm not going to throw them."

"Just leave them for me, okay?"

Not sure if he truly didn't trust her not to launch another missile at him, she nodded. "Okay."

When he began to unhitch the team, she opened the door and stepped inside the very house she'd run from only hours earlier. As she walked into their small kitchen, she knew she'd never run again.

By the time Wyatt joined her, she had the potatoes she'd peeled sizzling in a pan, along with a diced onion. The honey cakes were in the oven warming, and the bacon was heating in another skillet. Despite her promise, she'd touched the eggs, but only to remove them from the basket and put them on a cloth, and had set a small bowl next to them. Every time she glanced at them, she was torn between wincing and smiling. Who knew that something as innocent as an egg could cause such a turn-around in their lives.

"That smells great," Wyatt said as he washed his hands.

"Everything is almost ready," she said.

"Not everything," he corrected as he reached for the bowl and picked up an egg.

She kept one eye on the potatoes and the other on her husband as he took his knife and began to poke at the egg that he held over the bowl. Her brow furrowed. Did he not know how to crack an egg? She gave a small jerk when he cursed as the egg shattered.

"That's not how you break an egg. Here, I'll do it," she offered, reaching for the bowl.

"No," Wyatt said, pulling the bowl closer to him.

"Do you seriously think I'm going to throw them?"

"Not in the least," he said, looking up from the bowl where he was picking out pieces of eggshell. "But if you keep trying to touch my eggs, I seriously think you are about to add to your count."

"Count?"

"Yes, my dear. The count your little bottom has coming. I also seriously think you are about to burn your part of breakfast."

He chuckled when she gasped and turned her attention to the hash. Flipping it over, she shook her head, grateful that she'd caught it just moments before it would have burned. Evidently he'd removed all of the shell because she saw him pick up another egg. She had to bite her lip to keep from correcting him as he once more poked at one end with his knife. After a moment, he turned the egg over and began poking at the other end. Shaking her head again, she took the bacon out of the skillet and moved the hash off the burner.

"Perfect."

She looked at Wyatt in time to see him lay aside his knife. What was perfect? The egg remained intact. At this rate, the eggs might be hot, well, they would be if he ever actually broke the rest of them, but the rest of their meal would be cold. Her eyes widened when she saw him place the small end of the egg to his lips and she lost her determination to remain quiet.

"Do you think kissing it will cause it to break?"

He looked up, his blue eyes twinkling even as he shook his head and moved the egg away from his mouth. "Darlin', the only thing I want to break with my kisses is your silence."

She didn't understand what he meant but when he put the egg back to his lips, leaned over the bowl, and blew, the egg's contents dropped into the bowl. He blew again and then set the egg back onto the cloth. Though strange, his method had worked. She was a bit disappointed when he cracked the last two by simply tapping them on the edge of the bowl.

"You can beat them and add them to the hash now."

She took the bowl and as she whipped the eggs with a fork, she watched as he carefully poured water from the pitcher into the egg with the holes, blowing on it several times until the water ran clear. As she returned the hash to the heat and added the eggs, she watched him take each piece of the two broken eggs and wash them, as well. Shaking her head as he dried them, she divided the food onto two plates, giving him a much larger portion. She placed the plates on the table, which had been set that morning before her trip to the chicken coop. Returning to the kitchen, she poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table as well.

"Breakfast is ready," she announced.

"Not quite yet," Wyatt said as he approached the table. He set a folded cloth down in the center of the table and then carefully added the eggs he'd washed. The four halves surrounded the whole egg which was standing in the center. "Now it's ready." He pulled out her chair and she took her seat.

"How did you learn you could empty an egg like that?" she asked.

"My Ma taught me. Every Easter she had us blowing out the eggs and then she'd paint them and use them as centerpieces."

"Oh, maybe I should paint yours," she said as he slid into his chair opposite her.