Married In Montana (At The Altar Book 1) (6 page)

"What if I get nervous and run from the room screaming?" she asked, half seriously.

"Don't.  You don't want to make me think you hate me, do you?"

She shook her head.  "No, but I
am
nervous.  It just seems so strange to let you touch me this way."

"Would you feel better if we just laid here and talked and kissed for a little while?" 

She nodded slowly.  "But I don't want to ask you to wait when you've already waited so—"

He kissed her softly, stopping her words.  "You're not asking me to do anything I don't want to do."
 
His cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly, concentrating on showing all his feelings through lips. 

Savannah put her hands on his shoulders, kissing him back.  She was comfortable kissing him.  They had that to build on.

When he broke the kiss, he looked into her eyes.  "Talk to me.  Tell me about your class last year."

She swallowed hard.  It was a strange conversation to be having in bed on what was, for all intents and purposes, her wedding night.  "Most of my classes are small.  I taught all the honors classes and one creative writing class.  There's only one honors class per grade level, because it's such a small school."

He was listening, his thumb stroking her lips.  "How many students do you consider a small class?"

She shrugged, completely distracted by his touch. How was she supposed to think when he was touching her so intimately? "Not more than seventeen."

"So you do a lot of sentence diagramming and read Shakespeare aloud?"

She laughed softly.  "I hate diagramming sentences, so I don't make my students do it unless there's a need."

"How do you know if there's a need?"  He was surprised to hear an English teacher say she hated diagramming sentences.  He was certain his English teachers had diagrammed sentences using their toy blocks instead of building things out of them when they were toddlers.

"I read what they write in papers.  If their grammar is off, we'll do a quick unit to help them.  If that's not enough we diagram, but that's never happened.  Usually my students can hear if something sounds wrong with a sentence and a two week grammar unit is all they need."  She stroked his calf with her foot.  "I find that I get the brightest students, so it's easier to teach them than it would be otherwise."

Scott moved his feet between hers, trying to slowly bring more and more of their bodies into close contact.  It was strange having to woo his wife this way, but she was worth it to him.  Lachele had found a woman that he'd have chosen for himself if he'd had the time or inclination.  He had no complaints.  "So you just read a lot of Shakespeare?"

"Not at all.  We don't read Shakespeare at all in my junior classes, because they're American Literature.  I do a bit of Shakespeare in the other grades, though.  Usually only two plays per year, because Shakespeare gets more than a little tedious for most high school students."  Her hand moved around to his back, and she stroked it, finding a tiny mole beneath his shoulder blade.  She wondered if he knew it was there but didn't ask, not wanting to make him self-conscious about it. 

"Do you like Shakespeare," he asked, because he'd always wondered if English teachers liked the books they shoved down kids' throats. 

She shrugged.  "Some of it.  I liked
Taming of the Shrew
a lot, but we never taught that.  I like
A Comedy of Errors
...another book we never get to teach."  She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.  "I'm not a fan of
Romeo and Juliet
or
Hamlet
."

"Why didn't you teach the ones you liked?"  His hands roamed in circles over her back, the circles gradually getting bigger so he was encompassing more of her with them. 

"I didn't have that option.  I was given a list of books to teach, so I taught them."

"Do you think your class would have been better if you could have chosen the books?"

"Oh, no doubt.  My students would have liked it a great deal more as well."  She scooted closer to him and buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent. 

He moved his hands down to her bottom, pulling her hips against his.  He wanted her to be ready for him but didn't want to ask.  He didn't want her to think he was rushing her.

Savannah was surprised to feel him pressing against her.  She gently bit his neck in response, wondering what he would do.

Scott let out a low laugh.  "You didn't get enough food at dinner?" he asked as he rolled her to her back, looming over her.

She grinned, her hand going back to his shoulder.  She trailed it down his arm, liking the feel of his taut muscles.  "You're strong."

He nodded.  "I do hard, physical work every day.  I couldn't run a ranch of this size if I wasn't."  He moved his leg over the top of hers, keeping them in close physical contact in as many places as possible. 

"I like how you feel," she told him truthfully.  She'd expected to be more nervous when they were finally in bed together, but it didn't feel wrong.

"I'm glad."  His hand swept up her side, and he cupped her breast in his hand.  "I like how you feel too."

His thumb toyed with her nipple while he lowered his head to kiss her again, catching her cries with his lips. 

Savannah was surprised by the feelings rushing through her.  She felt as if his hand on her breast was causing little bursts of energy to shoot through her body, right to her core.  She spread her legs a little, not surprised when his knee moved into the opening.

His hand left her breast, traveling down her body to catch the hem of her nightgown, lifting it up above her knee.  He stroked up her thigh and moved his hand to her center, stroking her softly while checking her readiness for him.

She pressed against his hand, wanting more than just his fingers there.  Her hands roamed down his back to his bottom, stroking her nails over it.  "I like this!" she said with surprise.

He chuckled.  "That's because we have a good God."  He plucked at her nightgown wanting it off, but too afraid the moment would be lost.  He gently nipped her collar bone, his teeth scraping her bare skin.  "I need you, Savannah."

Her eyes were wide as she looked deeply into his, and finally she nodded.  "Make love to me."

Scott needed no further invitation.  He settled himself between her thighs, and guided himself to her.  "I promise, if it hurts, I'll make it up to you later."

She nodded, catching his head and pulling it down for a kiss.  Somehow, him looking at her while he made love to her seemed even more intimate to her than him joining their bodies together.

The pain was brief, and not as intense as she had expected.  She didn't find a great deal of pleasure in the act that night, but she certainly didn't find it painful either.

Scott gathered her against him.  "It'll be better next time.  I promise."

Savannah kissed his cheek.  "It wasn't
bad
this time.  Just strange."  She couldn't let him think she hated what they'd done together, because nothing could be further from the truth.

He raised an eyebrow looking at her face.  "Strange how?"  Was she saying he'd done something wrong?

"Well, it's different than anything I've ever done, and that makes it strange in my book."

He chuckled, stroking her back.  "Hopefully next time it will go from 'strange' to 'awesome, let me worship you for making me feel that way.'"

It was her turn to chuckle at that.  "Good luck with that."  She wasn't certain if it was her job to feed his ego or keep it reined it.  She didn't want to deal with a big-headed man, though, so she decided not to feed it.

"Are you doubting my ability to show you how awesome making love can be?"

"I'm doubting any man's ability to make me worship him.  Sorry." 

"By this time next week, you'll be my sex slave."  He waggled his brows at her.

She shook her head with a laugh.  "You do like to dream big."

He sighed.  "Someday you'll have faith in me."

She felt her eyes drifting closed.  "Someday you'll earn my faith.  Not sure sex is the way to do it, though."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer, for now content to have her sleep in his arms.

Chapter Five

After breakfast the following morning, Savannah asked, "Do you mind if I practice driving around the ranch while you're out?  I'd like to get as skilled as I can as quickly as possible.  I would hate to have to ask you to drive me to job interviews."  It would be as bad as her mother taking the subway with her to her first job as a bistro in a coffee shop.  Oh wait, that had already happened.

Scott frowned.  "I don't mind if you practice, but I'll probably take you to at least the first few job interviews, regardless.  I don't want to worry about you getting lost."

She looked at him with a frown.  "Your truck has GPS."

He shrugged.  "I would just feel safer if I took you."

She didn't say anything, but she noted that his keys were left on the counter when he left for the day.  She wasn't certain why he was worried about her driving off by herself, but there was obviously something going on there, and she would need to speak with him about it.

She spent a couple of hours applying for jobs online.  There were two in small towns in the area and two in Billings.  She had a feeling that Scott wouldn't want her working in Billings.

She glanced at the clock when she was finished with her applications and went out to the truck.  She would have no problem getting lunch ready on time, as she just planned on making burgers and the meat was already thawed.  She climbed into the huge truck, happy that she didn't have to adjust the seat because she'd been the last one to drive it. 

She practiced stopping and starting, parking and turning.  She was in the truck for over an hour before she went in to start lunch. 

When Scott walked into the house for lunch, he could smell lunch cooking, and his bad mood melted away.  He was worried that by working outside the home, Savannah wouldn't do the things around the house that he felt needed to be done.  They didn't need the money anyway. 

"Lunch smells good," he told her as he wandered into the kitchen, kissing her cheek. 

"I didn't have a lot of time," she told him, "so I just made burgers and chips.  I hope that's all right." 

He nodded.  "It sounds good to me.  We're going to need to make a run into King for groceries soon, aren't we?"  In his mind if the pantry and freezer were both full of groceries, then the meals would be better.  He loved having a wife who was cooking three meals a day.  It made him feel like he was loved, whether she said the words or not.

"We really are.  I enjoy cooking, so it's nice to be able to do it during the summer this way."

"What do you mean?  You won't be cooking at all during the school year?"  That couldn't be what she meant, could it?

"Of course I don't mean that!"  She gave him a strange look.  "I will still cook all the time on the weekends, but I'll probably put a lot more meals in the crock pot before leaving for work.  I'll make simpler meals on nights that I'm working."  She loved experimenting with new recipes, and a crock pot was the best way to do it.

"Is working more important to you than our marriage?" he asked, knowing he was being slightly belligerent but not caring at all.  His mother had cared enough about him and his father that she stayed home and kept house, making certain every meal was done before his father came in from a hard day of work.  Why couldn't his wife do the same?

She was hurt that he'd even ask that.  "No, it's not more important, but it
is
important.  I enjoy what I do."

"We don't need the money.  Can't you enjoy keeping house and cooking meals?"

Savannah counted to ten before responding.  "I didn't go to school for four years to stay home.  After children, yes, I will embrace staying home and raising babies.  Before?  Why would I waste my time?"

"Cooking for me is a waste of time?"

She shook her head.  "You weren't starving to death when we married, Scott.  You kept yourself fed.  Why do I need to be the one to cook meals for you now that we're married?  Why can't you go on doing what you did before?"

"Because you're my wife, and it's your job to do it!" Why didn't she just know that?  Wives cooked for their husbands!

"My mother always worked, and in our house, my dad was the cook before he died.  He was a better cook than my mother, so it was his chore.  Why can't we just do what makes sense for us at any given time?  Why do we have to plan on me not working so that I can cook meals that you don't need me to cook anyway?"  Were all men this illogical?

"You're supposed to do it out of a desire to take care of me.  Don't you have that desire?"  What kind of woman had Lachele told him to marry?  Why couldn't she see that one of the most basic things a woman did for her husband was cook for him and clean for him?

"So what you're saying is if I work, I'll still be responsible for all the cooking and all the housework?  Is that it?"  Surely, he was joking.  She kept waiting for him to tell her that he didn't mean it, but it just wasn't happening.

"Of course you will!  I don't have time for it!  I have a ranch to run!"

"Who did your cleaning before we were married?  This house has been cleaned many times since your mother died.  I know what a filthy house looks like, and this house was not filthy when I arrived."  Why was he being so difficult about this? Did he honestly think she should just throw the years she'd worked for her teaching degree down the drain?

"I had a housekeeper, but I let her go before I went to New York to marry you.  Why would I need a housekeeper
and
a wife?"

"Did it never occur to you that your wife, who you knew was from New York, was a career woman?  Did that thought not enter your pea brain?"

He stood up, bracing his hands on the table.  "Pea brain?  Are you calling me stupid?"

Savannah had enough.  She couldn't remember ever being so angry in her life.  What was wrong with him that he'd think she should give up her entire life for him?  It wasn't enough that she'd pulled up roots and moved half way across the country for him?  "If the pod fits," she yelled, "wear it!"  She threw the rest of her burger at his head, pleased when ketchup and mustard clung to his face.  "And the dishes?  Hell will freeze over before I do them."

She walked out of the dining room and up the stairs, determined to take a nice hot shower to wash all of her anger away.

Scott stood at the table for a moment, not believing she'd actually thrown something at him and then just calmly walked off as if nothing had happened.  What was wrong with her?

He started to follow her up the stairs, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do in anger.  Instead, he went into the kitchen, washed his face, and left to go back to work. 

By the end of the day, everyone knew he was having marital trouble.  The men were shying away from him as if he were a wounded grizzly bear.

Finally his foreman, Jesse Fields, rode up beside him.  "Wanna tell me what your problem is, boss?"

"What makes you think there's a problem?" Scott snapped back, his blue eyes lit with the fire of anger.

"Well, I don't know.  Maybe it's the way you're yelling at everyone, whether they do something wrong or not.  Maybe it's the way you just told Kyle that his mama needs to buy him some clothes that don't hurt your eyes.  Or it could be the way you keep glaring toward the house.  Why don't you just pick one?"

Scott threw one hand up in the air, the other firmly on the reins of his gelding.  "I'm a newlywed.  We're learning to live together."

"I see that.  Maybe you should knock off an hour or two early, and go home and take your little filly to bed.  You'd both feel better for it in the end."

"I can't touch her when I'm this angry!  I'd break her right in half!"

Jesse laughed.  "You'd never hurt a woman in anger.  I've seen you cuss your horse up one side and down the other, but you've never hurt him in any way.  Not even when he threw you into that freshly thawed stream last winter."

"I would never hurt an animal!"

"You'd never hurt a woman either, Scott.  Go home and talk to your wife.  Work it out between you."

Scott shook his head.  "She won't listen to reason!  Do you realize she thinks she should work?  She doesn't need to work!  I need her at home."

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "What kind of work does she do?"

"She's an English teacher.  No one needs to be able to diagram a stupid sentence to work on a ranch.  It's time for her to forget all her holier than thou ways and stay home."

"Why do you really want her to stay home?  It's not like you need her to cook for you.  You can eat in the bunkhouse with us, which is what you used to do.  What's the problem?"

Scott shrugged.  "My mother always stayed home.  She had a meal on the table as soon as my dad walked in the door at the end of the day.  When I got off the bus from school, she had a cookie waiting for me.  And hot chocolate.  Who's going to make hot chocolate for the kids?"

Jesse shook his head.  "Kids?  Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?  Did she say she wants to work after you two have kids?  Not that you'll ever have kids if you're already fighting after less than a week of marriage."

"She said she'd stay home after the kids were born, but why can't she stay home now?  My mother never worked!"

"Yes, she did."

Scott's head whipped around, and he looked at Jesse with pure astonishment.  The man had been with his family for decades, so he knew if anyone knew the details of his parents' early marriage, it was him.  "She didn't."

"When your parents first married, she worked at the diner in town.  She said she couldn't stand to have idle hands, and there just wasn't enough to keep her busy on the ranch.  Once you came along, she stopped working and devoted her whole life to you.  But before you were born?  She worked at least thirty hours per week.  Sometimes more.   It drove your dad crazy."

"And it should have!  A woman's place is in the home taking care of her family."  Scott's mind was reeling.  His mother couldn't have worked.

"It is.  If that's where she wants to be.  Your attitude is pretty archaic.  Talk to your wife and see what she really wants.  Maybe there's a reason she wants to keep working that you two haven't discussed yet."

"Like what?"

"Maybe she thinks she can really make a difference teaching.  Maybe she has another year to pay on her students loans, or credit cards, or something that she doesn't want you to accept the burden for.  Maybe she wants to send money to her white-haired grandmother in Seattle who collects cats.  I don't know why.  Ask her."  Jesse nodded his head toward the house.  "Go now and ask her.  If you keep yelling at the men the way you have been, you won't have any cowboys left."

Scott sighed.  "I guess I have been a bit rude to them today."

"Just a bit," Jesse lied. 

"I'll go talk to her."  Scott was honestly relieved to have a reason to go back to the house.  He wanted to talk to her, to tell her he was sorry for being a jerk.  He wanted to hear her reasons.  He wondered if he could get her to talk to him after the way he'd acted. 

*****

Savannah was still steaming when she got out of the shower.  There was no way she was going to be able to stay married to
that man
without killing someone.  Why had Dr. Simpson matched her up with a man like Scott?  Had she lost her mind? 

Glancing at the clock, she realized that even though it was only half past three in Montana, it was after five in New York.  She pulled out her phone and decided to put her questions to the only woman who could answer them.

She called Dr. Simpon's cell phone number, tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for her to answer.

"Dr. Lachele Simpson here."

"What were you thinking?  The man is insane!  He doesn't want me to work.  He thinks I need to cook every meal he eats.  He let his housekeeper go before we even married, not knowing if I wanted to work or not.  This is never going to work!"  Savannah felt like she was being unreasonable, but she was more than a little freaked out.  How was she supposed to live under these conditions?

"Ahh, Savannah.  I've been expecting your call."

"Was this some kind of joke?  Did you deliberately set me up with the man I'd be the least compatible with on the entire planet?"  Savannah wanted to fly back to New York and strangle the woman. She couldn't remember ever in her life being quite so angry with another human being.

Dr. Simpson's calm, sweet voice came over the line.  "Savannah, I want you to sit down and tell me exactly what happened.  You two are going to be great together if you can get past this initial hump.  Trust me.  The first year of any relationship is the hardest, and you two are just getting to know each other after marriage."

"You were the one who said we had to meet at the altar!"

"I know.  If I hadn't, you two would have dated a few times, realized there was a very strong attraction, and then you would have discussed you working after marriage, and you'd have called it quits.  You're perfect for each other.  You just have to work through his possessiveness and your reluctance to be cosseted."

"How?"