The Marshal's Rebellious Bride (17 page)

Instead she raised the lid one last time on the sauce.
As a steam cloud rose again and threatened to burn her eyes, she tossed the lid
on the nearby counter and rattled off a string of curses at the same time boots
stomped over the wooden floor.

A hand clamped onto her shoulder and spun her around.
“Any more of that and you’ll get a mouth-soaping.”

She met Morgan’s scowl with one of her own. “I nearly
burnt my eyebrows off.”

He continued to look disgusted, but reached up to run
a thumb over her left eyebrow. His touch was exquisitely gentle and she fought
off giving a ridiculous purr of contentment. “You’ll live,” he declared and
stepped away.

Keno held up a piece of soap, grinned at her. “I’ve got
a soap bar right here.”

She shifted away from Morgan, though she’d already
sensed he didn’t mean it…this time. Then she saw him notice the slab of beef
with the knife in the pot on the stove. His gaze moved to the kettle that had
released the steam and his nose wrinkled at the strong smell of peppers and
onions drifting up.

He faced her, his expression one of frustration. “You
did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I made it clear earlier that I can’t cook. Did any of
you listen? No.” She huffed, irritated when tears misted her eyes. She looked
away and snapped, “I worked damn hard on this meal. I expect each of you to do
your damn best to eat it.”

When she looked up again, she noted how Morgan’s brow had
risen at her repeated use of “damn,” but he must have seen the sheen of tears
in her eyes. He nodded curtly, which made her even more frustrated.

She jerked off her apron, discovered it was actually
cleaner than her skirt and blouse. Blinking back the tears, she tossed the
apron on the floor and stomped on it. “I’m done with this! Get the damn meal on
the table yourselves. I’m going to change clothes.”

When Taos would have stopped her and no doubt
chastised her, Morgan shook his head. “Leave her be.”

His support soothed her ragged nerves, a bit. She
walked by them all on her way upstairs. She really had worked hard on the meal,
although her efforts had been wasted. Still, it touched her that Morgan had
stepped between her and Taos, kept her from getting either an
ear-blistering
for cursing or a bottom-swatting for
attitude.

* * *

“Could I have some more water?” Morgan gasped as he
forced down another bite of beef covered with chili sauce. He’d been skeptical
about putting the sauce on the beef he’d managed to carve off the slab. He,
like the others, had only done so because that was the only hope of softening
the beef to something maybe chewable. It hadn’t helped all that much.

Carrying the pitcher of water, Whiskey walked around
the table with a slowness that would make a turtle proud. His eyes watered but
he refused to beg her to hurry. Still, the look of mischief in her eyes pushed
his patience to the limit. When she finally got to his side, he grabbed the
pitcher and took a long swallow straight from it. He no sooner set it down on
the table than Keno reached for it.

“That was pretty rude,” she chastised, a smile dancing
across her now clean face.

Before he could comment, Taos nudged a pebble-like
bean around his plate. “We could use these little devils for buckshot.” The
bean rolled off his plate, off the table, and bounced across the floor.

He glared at Taos. He hadn’t even attempted to eat one
of the beans, but he was getting darn tired of her brothers making taunting
remarks about her cooking, especially Taos. “She warned you that she couldn’t
cook, but you wouldn’t listen to her.”

Whiskey blinked in obvious surprise at his defense of
her. It was clear that she had become more used to being chastised or ridiculed
than complimented. He didn’t like that idea, even if he was guilty of it, too.

He kept his tone kindly as he said, “Evidently your
Aunt Mae didn’t do much in the way of teaching you any of her cooking secrets.”

Keno struggled to swallow another tiny bite of beef.
He managed to choke out, “That’s the obvious damn truth.”

Morgan frowned at him and looked back at Whiskey.
 
“I’m thinking you just haven’t had enough
practice. I guess that should be expected, considering you were raised with
having a cook.”

She took a second clearly trying to decide if he’d
been speaking nicely or not. Then her eyes narrowed and the spirit he’d become
familiar was back. “Considering I own the ranch now and Manuel works for me, I
don’t see why I’d need any more practice.”

She nodded toward the platter with a large chunk of
beef in the middle of the table. “Anyone care for another slice? You’ll have to
carve it off yourself, though. I don’t believe I’m strong enough.”

“Considering
we
own the ranch
together
, Manuel works
for both of us,” he corrected.

The way her lips pursed like she’d just sucked on a
lemon almost made him chuckle. He resisted, though.
 
“I’m thinking maybe he should just cook
for the hands. I’m thinking my
wife
should learn to do the cooking for us.” Truthfully, he wasn’t thinking any of
that. This meal had convinced him that Manuel was worth any amount of money.

Her back went ramrod stiff and her jaw tightened. An
instant later she scooped a spoon full of beans onto his plate. They clattered
around as they rolled. “Not that I’m agreeing to marry you, but I won’t even
consider it if you can’t eat the meal I slaved over today.”

He ignored her continued resistance to what he
considered a done deal. They were getting married in 18 days even if he had to let
her brothers nudge her down the aisle at
gun point
.

Shoving his plate away, he said, “I’m ready for
dessert. Where’s that apple pie you promised to make?”

His words—and hope—that she had at least
managed to make a simple pie all right died in his throat as she scurried
across the kitchen and came back with a pan of half-burnt, mangled something.
His stomach roiled, again.

“How big a piece do you want?” Then she looked at her
brothers, who quickly shook their heads, looking to him a bit on the green
side.

He had a feeling she was testing him. She believed
that he couldn’t be serious about marrying her now that he knew she was
hopeless in the kitchen. Pride wouldn’t let her win this round, even if he’d no
doubt regret this later. “I’ll take a small piece.”

Along with her brothers, he stared in amazement as she
set the pan down directly in front of him and inserted a knife. When she pulled
it back out, blackened pie filling coated it. There was little resemblance to
anything close to an apple pie. Still, he refused to back down, especially when
he caught the hint of challenge and mischief in her eyes. The minx.

As the glob landed on a fresh plate she’d also carried
to the table, both Keno and Taos climbed to their feet. They looked definitely
on the ill side. Taos beat his brother to the back door, saying as he left, “I
need to check on that horse Whiskey has been doctoring. Enjoy your pie.”

“I could save you some for later,” Whiskey called
after him, grinning, an evil delight dancing in her eyes.

Taos was gone, as was Keno. She chuckled, until she
glanced back at Morgan.

“Set yourself down, Angelina. You’re sharing this
piece of pie with me.” She hadn’t sat down since she’d come back downstairs in
a clean skirt and blouse. He hadn’t pushed her on that issue, until now.

She paled and her eyes grew bigger. “I-
I’m
not really hungry. Cooking all day, nibbling…”

“I seriously doubt that you nibbled on any of this.”
He nodded toward the platter of beef, the pot of beans, and the biscuit stones.
“Sit.”

It took her a few stubborn seconds, but she eased down
onto the chair next to him. He handed her a fork from where she should have
been eating with them. When she refused to take it, he scooped up a piece of
the pie and held it to her mouth. “I’ve got no problem feeding you, darlin’.
Open up.”

Her brow pinched in confusion and she simply shook her
head. “I’m
not
your ‘darlin’.”

The endearment had slipped out without him thinking
about it. He had no intention of taking it back. “Would you prefer
sweetheart
?” he teased, already knowing
her answer. Somehow it felt good picking at her like this. She certainly had no
trouble antagonizing him.

Again she shook her head and her long braid brushed
back and forth over her shoulders. “I’d be okay if you didn’t even speak to me
anymore.” She sighed, her annoyance obvious. “But I don’t imagine that will
happen.”

“You’re right about that.” He held the piece of pie to
her mouth once more. “Open up.”

Stubborn brat that she could be at times, she squeezed
her mouth tightly closed.

“I could give you a spanking for encouragement to act
nice,” he offered. Fact was he didn’t think he could touch her in any manner
right now. She’d cleaned up when she’d gone to her room, put on a pretty blue
dress.
For him?
He doubted it, yet… And he’d begun to
notice what sweetly plump pink lips she had, perfect for kissing.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Darn it all,
thinking along those lines was only making his problem worse.

“I don’t want…” He shoved the spoon into her mouth and
she nearly gagged. Her expression as she was forced to chew and swallow told
him exactly how bad the pie was.

Finally she glared murderously at him and snapped,
“You’re going to have to spank me, because I am
not
eating another bite.”

He set the fork on her plate and shoved it all away.
“Believe me,
darlin’
, I’m sorely
tempted to turn you over my knee. But I won’t. Not this time.”

She huffed and stood up again. “Stop calling me
‘darlin’!”

Ignoring her protest, he glanced around the kitchen
with lots of pots and pans and dishes to clean up yet.
The
floor, too.
 
“I’m thinking
it’ll be punishment enough having to clean up this room before you go to bed.”

He stood, eager to get outside, eager to no longer
look at the ruined meal. Anxious to get away from the woman he was real tempted
to pull against him, to kiss her sassy lips.

“You aren’t going to help me…” She sounded
disbelieving.

“Nope.” He headed for the back door, snagged his hat
from a row of pegs on the wall.

“But…” She stood and gaped around her. “But this will
take me hours.”

“Reckon so.” He set his hat on his head, shrugging.
“Oh, and tomorrow…
Tomorrow
I’ll be taking you into
town to that dressmaker.”

Her eyes grew big as silver dollars. “What?”

“I’m taking you to see the dressmaker.”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“Angelina, I’ve been patient with your resistance, but
I’m damn tired of this nonsense.” He stormed over to her, his heart pounding.
He wanted a hell of a lot more, but he’d settle for a kiss.

She resisted at first, and then slowly seemed to melt
into him. He felt the strong beating of her heart with her plump breasts
pressed against him. He inhaled her scent. He held her in place with hands at
her small waist.

After a cautious couple of seconds, she slid her hands
around him. He almost shuddered at her innocent action, something that really
made his situation worse. Embarrassed at knowing she must feel the rub of his
hardened cock against her, he forced himself to let her go, to pull away.

They were both breathing hard when he took another step
back.
A safer distance away.
He managed to ignore his
body’s desires and said gruffly, “Best get started or you’ll be up all night.”

Chapter
Seven

Whiskey tossed and turned all night long going from
one tortured dream to another. Trapped in the confines of her sheets she was
equally trapped by her fate.

“No! I
refuse,” she snapped at her brothers as they stood in the back of the church,
just behind her, holding shotguns.

Taos nudged
her back with his gun. “Get a move on.”

She bristled
and looked ahead at the building packed with nearly every person who lived in
the area. The old biddies who seemed to live for a chance to gloat whenever she
got in trouble, now sat smirking at her being forced into this marriage.

Then she
looked straight at the tall, grim-appearing man with a shiny U.S. Marshal’s
badge that appeared to take up most of the top of one side of his dress coat.
He silently waited for her to walk toward him and become his wife.

“I won’t do
it! I can’t do it!”

Taos moved to
one side of her, Keno to the other. They shared a determined look and then each
took hold of one of her arms. Dragging her forward through the crowd of smiling
people, Taos said, “You’re getting married today and that’s final.”