The Devil's Daughter (14 page)

“’Morning,” she mumbled, stepping close to the fire.

Heat. Please give me heat.

“’Morning.” Jed crouched near the flames, stirring his damned coffee, and didn’t look up until he was into his next sentence. “I thought I’d get started on. . .”

His gaze wandered over Lucy, following the blanket up her body until it reached her shoulders. He swallowed hard, blinked, then moved his eyes to her face. His Adam’s apple bobbed again.

Lucy tipped her head, waiting for him to finish. So far, so good. He cleared his throat, rubbed both palms across his stubbled cheeks, then rose.

“On the. . .uh,” he swallowed again. “On clearing the ground for the new barn.”

She forced a smile and nodded. “All right. When I’m done here, maybe I can help.”

Jed’s features twisted in an odd mixture of desire and frustration. Only a man would get worked up over a woman doing chores.

Good
. If she could keep him in that state, maybe she could finish things faster. She slammed her mind shut against the confusion that followed that thought.

Jed’s practical side finally won him over again. He coughed twice, then motioned toward the far side of the fire. Their last six eggs lay in a basket next to what was left of the ham.

“Thought you might want to try again,” he said, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

A groan battled to be released, but Lucy fought it back. If she could manage to cook this one meal – just this one – without burning it, maybe that would win her some regard with Jed.

Yes, the first few attempts to fry eggs had turned them into little more than charred ashes, but maybe this time. . .

“Feeling brave this morning, are you?” she teased.

Color crept over his cheeks, but Jed only shrugged, never taking his hungry gaze from her.

Lucy wiggled her back against the blanket.

“Could you. . .?” she wiggled again. “This blanket’s so itchy.”

Jed was beside her in a heartbeat. “Where?” he asked, his voice a tight croak.

“Right. . .there.” Lucy dropped the blanket another couple inches and twisted her arm around to point out the non-itch in the middle of her back.

The second his fingers touched her, she cursed herself like a madwoman. He was magic against her skin; his warmth seeped into her, turning her whole seduction against her – again!

“That’s good,” she muttered, yanking the blanket back up. “Thank you.”

Jed mumbled something incoherent as she ducked back into the barn. She kicked the stable door with the toe of her boot and cursed herself again. There had to be a way to seduce Jed without having him touch her.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to earn his respect to make him love her. But could she do it before Maggie’s baby came?

Lucy dressed quickly in the dark, tossed yesterday’s dress into the pile near the door, then ran a brush through her hair. As much as Jed liked to look at it when it hung loose, it would only be in the way, so she quickly knotted it at the back of her head.

If he wanted a practical wife, he’d get one. Those kind of women got respect, didn’t they?

A minute later, she was back at the fire, determined to cook him a decent meal. Or at least one that didn’t disintegrate on his plate.

Crouched as close as she dared, she refused to look away from the frying pan. At the first signs of the yolks hardening, she flipped each egg with careful precision, then turned the ham slices. So far, so good.

A shifting movement to her right dragged her attention away. Garden snake. Big one, too. She snapped up the axe and chased it down until it was good and dead, lying in pieces behind the house. If only she could rid herself of the snake that was her brother.

By the time she got back to the fire, her perfect breakfast had begun to burn.

Using the piece of cloth she’d ripped from her skirt that first day, she yanked the frying pan from the flames and dropped it in the dirt. Thankfully, only one of the smaller pieces of ham bounced out. She lifted it up with the tips of her fingers, brushed the dirt off and set it on her plate.

Jed emerged from the barn a moment later, looking freshly shaven and dressed in his cleaner clothes. His eyes widened the closer he walked.

“Looks great,” he beamed at her. “Even smells great.”

Lucy shook her head. “The eggs are a little burned on the bottom,” she muttered. “Stupid snake.”

“Snake?” he frowned. “Where?”

“Behind the house.” She dished two of the eggs onto his plate, then loaded it with ham before taking her own. Jed was halfway to the house before she stopped him. “I already got it, but that’s why the eggs are burnt.”

“You got it?” he repeated. “What kind?”

She shrugged. “Just a garden snake.”

“You sure?” He strode back, concern clouding his face.

“Believe me, husband, I know my snakes.” Her laugh was brittle, even to her own ears. “Now come and eat before it goes cold.”

Jed walked slowly back toward her, his boots leaving clouds of dust in his wake.

“How many were there?” he asked, nodding his thanks as she handed him his plate.

“Just one.”

“What did you kill it with?”

“The axe.”

Jed gaped. “You took the axe to it?”

With a tip of her head, Lucy smiled slowly. “I couldn’t help myself. It reminded me of Deacon.”

His laughter rolled between them in warm, rumbling waves. “Well I’ll be damned.”

The irony of that simple statement. . .

Lucy bit back a chuckle. “It’s just a snake, Jed.”

He shook his head slowly, then sat on the ground next to the fire and filled his fork with the half-burnt eggs. Lucy held her breath and waited.

Jed’s eyes widened, his chewing slowed, then sped up again.

“This is pretty good,” he managed over his next forkful of egg. “Really!”

Lucy lifted her fork, doubtful he spoke the truth. But once the egg hit her tongue, she couldn’t help smiling.

“This
is
pretty good, isn’t it?”

Jed hunkered down over his plate and continued to shovel the food in as fast as he could chew.

“Is there more?” he asked when he’d scraped the last speck from his plate.

Lucy shook her head and swallowed. “Sorry, I’m saving the rest for Berta and Maggie, if she’ll eat it.”

“Nope, don’t be sorry.” He set the plate aside and patted his stomach. “Too much of a good thing does a body harm.”

“I don’t know about that,” she murmured with a sly smile. “I’m certain there must be some good things a body can never get enough of.”

“Wha. . .?” Jed stopped, chuckled, then nodded slowly. “I’ll go find the shovel and rake. I’ll be behind the barn when you’re ready.”

It was Lucy’s turn to laugh. “Behind the barn? Oh yes, dear husband, I’ll gladly meet you behind the barn – with or without the shovel and rake.”

He started to say something, then stopped. Instead, he reached over and kissed her cheek. It almost seemed a natural thing for him to do, as if he’d begun to enjoy her attempts to seduce him.

“Thank you. That was the best breakfast I’ve had in too long to remember.” He rose to his feet and flashed her that wink, the one that made every cell of her body weaken. “I’m looking forward to more.”

Lucy watched him walk away, taking a moment to admire his rear end. He’d get more all right, more than he expected and a hell of a lot more than he would know what to do with.

Berta kept her eyes averted even as she walked directly toward Lucy.

“Good morning,” Lucy said.

Berta nodded.

“How is Maggie this morning?”

With a mournful glance back to the house, Berta sighed, and finally spoke. “She’s not well, the poor dear. She needs to eat something other than bread and cheese.”

Lucy pointed toward the basket. “I saved some of the eggs and ham. Will she eat that?”

A faint light glimmered in the other woman’s pale eyes. “Hopefully.”

While Lucy set to cleaning up one set of breakfast dishes, Berta set to dirtying another set. The woman worked with a sure efficiency that both amazed and irritated Lucy. Why couldn’t
she
do that?

Perfect eggs and crisp, but not burnt, ham was ready in no time; all cooked in silence.

“Looks good.” Ugh – had Lucy said that out loud?

“Thank you.” Berta bobbed her head slightly before scurrying back into the cabin.

Why on earth was the woman so nervous? The woman’s soul was troubled, no question, but for a human, she had a remarkable ability to block soul seekers from getting too close. How could a human gain that skill?

 o0o

Jed paced off the area to be cleared, then marked the corners with large rocks. By the time he set the final corner, Lucy arrived, armed with her work gloves and a bucket of water.

“What’s wrong?”

She smiled back at him, but it was too late; he’d seen the frown, the tight lines around her mouth and the distant look in her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Lucy.” He stepped up, tugged the bucket from her hand and set it on the ground. The gloves followed. “Tell me.”

If she chewed that bottom lip any harder, she’d no doubt draw blood.

“Is it Maggie?”

A brief hesitation, then a short shrug. “Berta.”

“What?”

Lucy sighed softly and tried to pull her hands from his, but he held her fast.

“There’s something not right with her, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Jed grinned. “You probably scared the bejeepers out of her at the auction, with the way you walked in and told her how things were going to be.”

She didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Ready to get started?”

She lifted her brow in answer and tugged on her work gloves. Using the small chip-cart, Lucy loaded up weeds, brambles and rocks, and wheeled it to the area Jed set aside. Anything useable was piled separately to be retrieved later for the corrals and stalls; the rest would be burned.

Under the piercing July sun, he mopped his brow and neck every few minutes, but Lucy didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. Several times she stopped working, but only to rub her hands up and down her arms.

She was working just as hard as Jed, so how could she possibly be cold?

They worked past noon, pulling up the lighter stuff and hauling it away. Conversations were brief, given they’d have to almost yell to hear each other across the area they worked, but Jed did plenty of watching.

She was a helluva lot stronger than he ever would have guessed. In fact, she could probably outwork all of the woman and most of the men at the auction. Maybe he’d made the right decision after all, even if it hadn’t seemed very practical at the time.

Every passing day with Lucy surprised him a little more.

She didn’t enjoy the work, that was evident, but she did it. She often seemed ready to quit, to run screaming down the road as fast as she could, but she never did. She’d simply grind her teeth together, glare fire in Jed’s direction, then get back down to work.

She refused to give up on making coffee – wouldn’t even let Berta do it for her. It was as though she enjoyed the challenge. And finally, for the first time since she’d arrived, she’d cooked a tasty meal. Hell, it had been more than tasty. A little burned, but damn fine nonetheless.

“What?” Lucy leaned against her rake.

Jed gave his head a quick shake. How long had he been staring at her?

 “How do you know this is going to work?” She nodded to the yard around them, then looked directly at him; not with one of her sly smiles or seductive looks, but simple curiosity.

Jed offered her his best smile. “Because we’ll damn well make it work, that’s how.”

When she grinned back, he continued, suddenly desperate to convince her he was right. “Hard work can make pretty much anything happen, Lucy, just so long as we don’t back down from it and don’t let anyone convince us otherwise.”

She nodded slowly. “I understand that,” she said. “But given the type of ground we’re clearing here, what do you expect the herd to eat when it arrives?”

“Grass of course.” He pointed south, toward the main pasture. “There’s plenty of grass out there on the other side of the creek.”

“Will you take me there?”

“One day.”

He shot her a wink and she smiled back, but as usual, it didn’t reach her eyes. After a moment, she ladled him a cup of water, then waited for him to finish before she drank herself.

“Do you have other family besides Maggie?” she asked.

Jed shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Ma died about ten years back.”

“And your father?” She sliced off another large chunk of the prickly pear she’d been cutting down and tossed it aside.