Текст книги "Tempting the Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
“She’s not your daughter-in-law yet,” Robbie said from right beside them.
Catherine gasped and tried to step back, but Michael wasn’t through hugging her yet.
“Nay?” he chuckled, looking at Robbie and grinning. “Then maybe she should slip off her ring and give it back to ya.”
Robbie pulled her from Michael’s arms and led her away from the staring crowd. “What’
s going on here?” he asked, turning them so that his body blocked her from the gathering.
“We’re getting married in five minutes.”
Looking very much like his father, Robbie lifted one brow. “With or without me?”
Catherine shrugged. “You apparently didn’t need my consent eight hundred years ago, so I guess I don’t need yours today.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But whether you say your vows or not, I’m sleeping in your bed tonight, husband.” She gave him a challenging smirk. “So if you don’t care what sort of example we’ll be setting for our children, go home and eat your pie. I’ll be down as soon as the ceremony is over.”
“You need a marriage license in this time.”
“Already done and filed at the county courthouse. Martha Bailey helped me.” She canted her head. “Not everyone has their marriage license notarized by a judge.”
“And just when did I sign this license?”
“You didn’t. Cody did. He’s really good at forging your signature. You might want to check with his teachers and see what other papers you’ve signed.”
“You let a judge notarize a forged signature?”
Catherine sighed, stepped around him, walked over and stood in front of Father Daar, and waited for Robbie to join her.
She hadn’t wanted the old priest to marry them, considering all the trouble he kept causing, but Michael and Greylen had asked her to, for their sakes and for Robbie’s.
Catherine smiled at Nora standing beside her and then over at Nathan, who was crowded beside Gunter and Rick and Cody and Peter, all waiting to stand as witnesses for Robbie. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a dark shadow blocked the setting sun, and Father Daar lifted his book and started speaking.
“No, stop,” Catherine said, setting her hand over the pages. “In English,” she demanded, removing her hand and reaching over and lacing her fingers through Robbie’
s.
Her new husband whispered his vows, and Catherine was tempted to shout hers, but in the end she repeated the words softly and clearly.
Since they were already wearing their rings, Robbie took her left hand in both of his and pressed their bands together. Catherine was expecting the magic this time, and when her ring warmed and her hand tingled, she simply smiled.
Their nuptial kiss, however, couldn’t have been more modest.
But Robbie’s kiss to Nora, when he scooped the beaming little girl up in his arms and gave her a loud, laughing smooch on the cheek, was heartwarming. And his handshake with Nathan was most manly.
Winter came forward leading Robbie’s horse, its mane and tail braided with long, flowing ribbons in the MacBain colors, its rump covered with an ancient-looking MacBain plaid. Catherine also noticed that Robbie’s sword—and the new stick he’d made her—were strapped to the saddle.
Her husband lifted her by the waist onto his horse and climbed up behind her amid a shower of birdseed and the cheers of those gathered on the summit.
“Where to, wife?” he whispered.
“To your cabin on West Shoulder Ridge,” she said as she waved and threw kisses to Nathan and Nora. “We’ll be back by noon tomorrow,” she told them. “You be good for the boys.”
She leaned back against Robbie’s chest with a sigh, looked up at him, and smiled. “How are your twelve toes feeling, Mr. MacBain?”
“They feel fine,” he said, looking confused.
Her smile widened. “Well, they won’t be in about an hour.”
“They won’t?”
“No, because I’m about to curl them, husband.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Robbie barely recognizedthe place. And from the look on his wife’s face as he carried her through the door, Catherine was just as surprised as he was.
The old cabin was spotless. All the broken furniture, the years of accumulated junk, and every last spider web and squirrel nest were gone. All that remained was a recently painted wrought-iron bed, a table and two chairs, a rocking chair, and the newly reblackened woodstove. The counter and cupboards had been painted red, there were new curtains in the windows, and even the floor was freshly painted.
And dozens of candles, just waiting to be lit, sat on every available surface.
Robbie looked down at his wife in his arms and found her looking around the cabin in shock. “I had no idea they were doing all this,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I just asked them to clean it up a bit.”
Robbie lowered Catherine to her feet and picked up the envelope leaning against the large three-wick candle sitting in the middle of the table. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” he said, holding it between them. “The last note I got was an invitation to my own wedding.”
She took the envelope from him, slit it open, and pulled out the card. “It’s the boys’
wedding present to us,” she told him, handing the card back. “They said every married couple with a houseful of hoodlums needs someplace to escape to.”
Robbie quickly read the card and tossed it down on the table, picked up his wife and set her on the counter, slipped between her knees, and locked his hands behind her back.
“I thought our deal was that our marriage didn’t start until you faced Daniels.”
She covered his lips with her fingers. “Sshhhh. Don’t even say his name. He no longer exists.”
“Aye, but he does, Catherine. I’ll not spend our wedding night with his ghost in our bed.”
“Even his ghost is gone,” she whispered, smiling into his eyes as she started unbuttoning his shirt.
Robbie covered her hands with both of his, shocked by her eagerness.
Shocked but not really surprised.
He’d been living with a stranger for the last three days, a woman who appeared confident and determined and now, obviously, quite brave.
“What happened this week?” he growled, holding her hands safely in his.
“I had a talk with a wise and rather insightful owl,” she said, pulling free and working the buttons open again.
“You talked with Mary?” he whispered, stopping her and holding on tighter this time.
“Shespoke to you?”
Catherine nodded. “We had a wonderful conversation. Mary explained how I was letting you do my thinking for me and that our marriage was never going to work as long as I allowed it to continue, that I had to start thinking for myself.”
“I was doing your thinking?” he repeated, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck.
“What in hell are you talking about?”
She tried to wiggle free, but once she realized he wasn’t letting her have her hands back, she sighed and shook her head. “Mary explained that it’s a guy thing, this need you and your father have for me to confront my ex-husband. Men choose the most direct approach to a problem, and it usually involves fighting. Your solution is for me to barge in with my stick raised, hellbent on purging my memories by beating them away. Am I right?”
“I didn’t mean for you actually to fight Daniels. I was thinking more of you facing him with me standing beside you.”
“And exactly what would that accomplish, other than for me to feel safe only as long as you’re around?”
“You’d also see that Daniels is nothing more than a bully.”
“But I already know that.” She shook her head again. “Mary is right, it is a guy thing.
But Robbie, women think differently. We don’t need a huge confrontation or some defining moment to tell us we’re over our problem. We only have to let it go in our own minds.”
“Then why didn’t you do that three years ago, when you divorced him?”
“Because I was still thinking like a victim. And when I came here and met you, and even after visiting Scotland, it was easier just to go along with your idea to confront Ron because I knew you would protect me.” She looked down at their clasped hands. “That’s the problem with falling in love with guardian angels,” she whispered. “It becomes too easy to let them take over.”
Still holding her hands in his, he lifted her chin with his knuckles and smiled. “It’s even easier for us guardians to take charge, because that’s how we think.” He leaned over and gently kissed her sweet lips, then pulled away only slightly. “I’m sorry, little Cat, for nearly taking away your power instead of helping you find it. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”
The moment he freed her hands, she wrapped them around his waist and hugged him.
“So, now we’re married in all times,” she said, her lips caressing his chest where she’d unbuttoned his shirt. “Does that mean we can finally start the honeymoon?”
“Aye,” he growled, lifting her off the counter and carrying her to the bed.
She jumped up the moment he set her down. “We have to light the candles,” she said, racing to the table and picking up the box of matches. She stopped, looked from the matches to him, and tossed them back on the table. “You light them, husband, with your magic.”
He walked over, took her hand in his, and held it to the candle on the table. “All you have to do is wish for the energy to show itself,” he told her, touching their fingers to one of the wicks, then pulling it away once the flame appeared.
She gasped and looked up at him.
He moved their hands to the next wick and repeated the magic, then moved to the third, releasing her fingers. “Just ask, Catherine,” he whispered. “See the flame in your mind first, and expect it to appear, and it will.”
“But I can’t do magic,” she said, despite holding her finger to the last wick.
“But youare the magic, little Cat,” he whispered, smiling as she tried to all but glare the wick into lighting. He took hold of her shoulders and added his own will, catching her when the wick suddenly burst into flame.
“You did that!” she said with a laugh, turning and wrapping her arms around him.
He kissed her deeply and quite thoroughly, then lifted her off her feet and carried her back to the bed. He set her on the quilt and stared down at her.
Again she got up but knelt on the mattress, pulled his shirt from his pants, and pushed it off his shoulders.
He unknotted the shawl she’d brought from Scotland.
She unbuckled his belt.
His wife had him half undressed before he could even get her blouse unbuttoned.
She pushed his hands away and stepped off the bed, facing him as she slowly undid her own buttons, looking up with the smile of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
And damn if Robbie didn’t feel his toes start to curl as she slid her blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, revealing a lace bra that lovingly cupped her plump breasts, her two beautiful pink nipples straining against the satin material.
Completely forgetting his own need to get undressed, Robbie reached out and ran a trembling finger across the top of the thin lace, marveling at the contrast of his large, dark hand against her pale skin.
She was so delicate. So utterly feminine. So… his.
The candle on the windowsill above the bed burst into flame, reflecting in Catherine’s shining eyes as she unfastened her skirt and let it slide to the floor, revealing matching panties that were more lace than material. She stood in the pool of her clothes, her eyes dancing with blossoming excitement. Robbie tucked his hands behind his back and balled his fists in an attempt to control his own volatile energy.
A second candle on the windowsill flared to life.
“You have the most beautiful body,” she whispered, sliding down the zipper of his pants with maddening slowness.
Another candle—this one clear across the room on the counter—flared to life.
“You’ve done nothing but tease me with your body since I met you,” she continued, her voice husky as his pants fell to his own feet. She looked up at him, her womanly smile widening. “And now you’re all mine,” she whispered, walking her delicate fingers up his stomach, sending ripples of desire quivering through him.
She covered his chest with both hands, lightly feathering her fingers through his chest hair, and leaned forward and kissed one of his nipples.
The candle on the bedside table flared like a blow torch before settling into a gentle flame.
“Touch me, husband,” she whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers as she pressed against him. “Set me on fire.”
As difficult as it was, since his toes were curled so tightly, Robbie finally scuffed off his shoes, wrapped his arms around her, and stepped out of his pants. He lifted Catherine out of her own discarded wardrobe and carried her to the bed, setting her on the quilt and quickly lying beside her before she could jump up again.
Not that she tried. She rolled toward him, entwined her arms around his neck, and kissed him with the eagerness of a bride about to share her greatest gift with her husband.
Robbie kissed her with the eagerness of a bridegroom about to explode.
One by one, the candles scattered around the cabin began to flicker to life as their wedding bed heated with an energy unlike anything Robbie had ever experienced.
She was so tiny and delicate yet so trusting and suddenly bold. Her hands were all over him, caressing, exploring, exciting him until he could barely stand it.
He didn’t know how it happened, being so busy reeling with sensation after sensation, but his bride was suddenly sitting astraddle his hips, her fingers kneading his chest and her moist, puffed lips curved into a smile.
“Am I going too fast?” she asked, looking not the least bit worried that she might be.
He took hold of her hips, stilling her movement. “Aye, I’m thinking ya are, lass. If we don’t slow down, this whole place will go up in flames.”
She blinked in confusion, looked around the cabin, then shot him a glorious smile. “Did you do that?”
“Nay, little Cat, you did.”
Her lovely chest puffed up until her breasts all but spilled from her bra. Robbie reached up and covered them with his hands, feeling her nipples pushing into his palms through the lace. She reached behind her back, undid the clasp of her bra, and slid the straps off her shoulders until only his hands were holding it in place. He let the bra drop down to his own chest and quickly returned his hands to her naked breasts. She threw her head back with a moan of pleasure, placed her hands over his, and moved her hips along the length of his shaft.
Robbie could no longer stand the sweet torture. He rolled until she lay beside him and spanned one hand across her chest to keep her in place while he propped his head on his other hand so he could stare down at her.
Satisfied that she’d stay put, though unable to still her restless movements, Robbie leaned over to kiss her—but shouted instead when she wrapped her strong, delicate fingers around his shaft. “Nay,” he growled, quickly trapping both her hands over her head. “You’ve had weeks to explore my body, little Cat. Now it’s my turn to become acquainted with yours.”
“But I haven’t exploredall of you,” she countered, sticking out her lower lip.
“Aye,” he said with a chuckle, kissing her pout and then letting his mouth trail down her chin to her neck. “But ya needn’t worry,” he whispered at the base of her throat. “We won’t leave this bed until ya have.”
“Is that a promise or a thre—oh!” She gasped, arching her back as he covered one firm, budding nipple with his mouth.
It seemed he had found a most interesting way to subdue her. Robbie spent several minutes keeping Catherine so busy moaning and writhing in pleasure that she forgot all about driving him crazy with her own explorations. He made delicious love to her breasts, then continued his mouth’s journey down over her stomach to the top of her panties.
He slid his fingers under the elastic and slowly lowered the thin lace, exposing more and more of her, drinking in the dew of her heated body. Her freed hands dug into his shoulders before grabbing his hair and guiding him on a savory journey from one sensitive spot to another. He slipped her panties down her long, beautiful legs and then off completely, and came back and kissed her belly button. He moved lower, opening her thighs and covering her feminine bud with his mouth, sliding his hand under her backside when she arched into him.
He could feel her tightening, straining toward her orgasm, and Robbie continued to pleasure her, reveling in the feel of her blossoming fire. He moved quickly, settling himself between her thighs, keeping his arms rigid so he wouldn’t crush her.
“Open yar eyes, Cat.”
His voice seemed to startle her, and her eyes flared with recognition as she came back to her senses. She reached up, grasped his shoulders, and smiled. “Yes. I certainly wouldn’
t want to miss anything,” she whispered, lifting her hips and wiggling until his shaft touched her entrance. “I’ve been told this is the best part.”
Despite his urgency and overwhelming need to claim her, Robbie couldn’t stop the laugh that broke from his chest. He lowered his forehead to hers, closing his eyes with a frustrated groan. “Dammit, Cat. This is serious business.”
She flexed her fingers into his shoulders and licked his lips with her tongue.
Robbie reared back and glared down into her sparkling eyes.
“Aye, husband,” she murmured in a guttural mimic of his brogue, lifting her hips just enough that he started to enter her. “Being in love is a most serious business.”
He kept his gaze locked on hers and slowly eased inside her, then retreated just enough to return even deeper with another careful thrust.
Her smile disappeared, replaced with a moan of pleasure, and her eyes widened as her fingers bit into the straining muscles of his shoulders. “Yes,” she gasped on an indrawn breath. “It truly is magic.”
“Aye,” he whispered when he became fully embedded inside her. He leaned down and kissed her smile, then started moving in a primordial rhythm that sent bolts of energy rushing through him.
And again, he felt Catherine tightening, straining toward fulfillment as she met his thrusts with eager and rather loud cries of encouragement.
He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so freely and boldly giving herself to him, so unabashedly enjoying their pleasure, so vividly open with her response that Robbie lost the last of his control. He quit being careful and began feeling instead—every flex of her muscles sheathing him as he unleashed the full force of his urgency.
The cabin filled with blinding light, the flames on every candle flaring with simmering heat as the air charged with the pulsing glow of a magic so powerful that time stopped for the merest of heartbeats, only to start again with the explosion of their mutual fulfillment.
Catherine cried out, and Robbie actually shouted as the crashing waves of chaos took them over the edge of reality and into the realm of their consummated union—into that magical, wondrous world where two hearts start beating as one.
The pleasure lasted for what seemed like forever, and Robbie refused to move, instead holding himself rigid, deeply inside her as her lingering pulses continued to tighten around him.
Apparently, Catherine had more presence of mind than he did, for she reached up and trailed one finger down the side of his face, ending at his chin and gently pushing his mouth shut. She smiled—a warm, smug, I’ve-got-you-now smile.
“That really was the best part,” she whispered, lifting her hips slightly. “And definitely better than anything I could ever dream up.” She looked around the cabin flickering with candlelight, then brought her shimmering gaze back to his. “If I didn’t love you so much, I might be a little freaked out. Is this going to happen every time we make love?”
She cupped his chin in her palms. “Because it’s going to cost us a fortune in candles.”
Realizing he was about to collapse, Robbie rolled off her, bringing her with him and tucking her against his side as he stared up at the shadows dancing over the ceiling. “I truly hope not, little Cat, or I’ll be dead before my next birthday.”
She threw an arm and a leg across him, kissing his nipple before settling her head in the crook of his arm. He could feel her smile against his chest as she let out a satisfied sigh.
Then she suddenly lifted her head, looked at the table beside the bed, and started laughing. Robbie turned to see what was so funny and started them both shaking with his own laughter. There on the bedside table, leaning against a gently burning candle, were three packets of glow-in-the-dark condoms.
“I’m guessing it’s Cody,” Catherine said, settling back against him and drumming her fingers on his chest. “No, it’s Rick.” She tilted her head to look up at him and frowned. “I think there’s really a prankster lurking behind that quiet demeanor of his.”
Robbie captured her drumming fingers and kissed her upturned nose. “Do we need the condoms, Catherine? We really haven’t discussed adding to our family.”
She pulled herself up until she was straddling him again and slowly shook her head.
“No. We don’t need anything between us,” she whispered. “I could never have too big a family. You want a boy or a girl, Mr. MacBain?”
Robbie thought about that, looking up into his wife’s beautiful, glowing face as he tried to picture her pregnant. “Maybe six of each,” he finally said.
Which made her laugh.
Which made his toes start to curl again.
“I love you, wife.”
She gave him a smile that outshone the candles. “And I love you, husband.” One of her eyebrows rose inquisitively, and those maddening fingers of hers started walking up his stomach again. “Have you gotten your strength back yet?”
Every candle in the cabin suddenly flared again.
Chapter Twenty-five
Catherine would sayone thing about Scots: it didn’t seem to matter if it was eight hundred years ago or today, they certainly knew how to celebrate a wedding.
There was enough food laid out on several tables in the yard to feed a small nation. And the people! There were dozens and dozens of MacKeages and MacBains. Cousins had come from all over the country, towing husbands and wives and babies with them, to add their blessing to their marriage. Catherine was a bit overwhelmed to find herself in the middle of such a large family, considering she’d been an only child and orphaned at nineteen. Even Nathan and Nora were in a daze, inundated by hordes of children wanting to play and suddenly calling them cousin. Then there were the townspeople who kept coming up, welcoming Catherine to Pine Creek and wishing her well, almost to a person telling her that Robbie was the catch of three counties.
“That was a very big mistake you made, asking me to notarize a forged signature,”
Martha Bailey said over her cup of punch just before she took a sip.
“You knew it wasn’t Robbie’s signature?” Catherine asked.
Martha nodded.
“Then why did you notarize it?”
“Blackmail,” the judge said with a smile. “Marcus Saints told me there’s room for two more boys here.”
“We’re going to fill those beds with babies,” Robbie said as he walked up and wrapped an arm around Catherine’s shoulder.
“You can build more bedrooms,” Martha said, waving that away. “And besides, everyone knows kids are cheaper by the dozen.” She batted her eyelashes at Robbie. “I have two boys in juvenile right now who are due to be released in July. You should be able to have the addition finished by then.”
“I’ll be in your office Monday morning to sign a new license,” Robbie told her. “And when Gunter gets an apartment, we’ll continue this discussion,” he finished with a nod, leading Catherine away.
Marcus Saints stepped into their path, rolling down his shirt sleeves and buttoning his cuffs. He spotted his dirty hands and wiped them on his pants with a laugh. “I’ll be a millionaire,” he told them. “Cody and I are going into business manufacturing potato guns to sell on the Internet.”
Nathan came running over, his own shirt covered with potato pulp. “Did you see me, Mom? I splattered the rock three times.” He looked up at Marcus. “I heard what you said to Cody. Can I be in your business? I can test each gun before you sell it.”
Marcus ruffled Nathan’s hair, realized he had only smeared potato pulp through it, and tried to wipe it down with his sleeve. “Sure, Nathan. You can be our quality control manager.”
“In ten years,” Robbie clarified, again dragging Catherine away with a wave to Marcus.
Father Daar rushed over, a can of soda in one hand, a bowl of dip in the other, and several carrots and celery stalks sticking out of his chest pocket. “I’m wanting a word with you, Robbie,” he said, just before he lifted the bowl and licked dip off the edge.
“Tomorrow,” Robbie told him, turning Catherine away again.
She was starting to feel like a horse being dragged around by the cart. She planted her feet and pulled her husband to a stop. “What’s your problem, Father?” she asked.
Daar shook his head. “It ain’t exactly a problem I got,” he said. “It’s more like a mystery.”
Robbie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what would that be?” he whispered.
“It’s the root,” Daar whispered, looking around and taking a step closer. “It’s not what I was expecting.”
Robbie glared at the priest. “What do you mean, not what you expected? It’s from Cùram’s tree. I know it is.”
“Aye, aye,” Daar said, bobbing his head. “And it’s growing just fine, but it’s not an oak.
The tree is a white pine sapling.”
Robbie shook his head. “Nay. That root came from an oak.”
Daar took a sip of his soda and then canted his head. “Are ya sure? Could ya have taken a root from a nearby pine by mistake? Was there one growing near Cùram’s oak?”
“Nay. It stood alone in the cave. Are you saying the root is worthless? That you won’t be able to reverse your spell?”
“Nay,” Daar said. “It has the energy of a tree of wisdom. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it means, is all, that ya brought me an oak root and it grows into a pine tree.” The old priest suddenly gasped, spilling dip on his hand. “Cùram!” he whispered. “That blackheart is up to something.”
“He can be up to whatever he wants,” Robbie growled, “as long as you can still reverse the spell.”
Daar absently nodded. “Aye. That’s not a problem, MacBain. Yar papa and the others will be staying here.” He looked at Robbie for several seconds, then turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“Do you believe your father and uncles are safe?” Catherine asked, looking up at her scowling husband.
“Aye. Daar knows better than to lie to me.” Robbie forcibly shook off his black mood and suddenly smiled. “Come to the hayloft, wife. My toes are wanting to be curled again.”
“We can’t just sneak off. There’s too many people here.”
As if on cue, they spotted Libby and Michael approaching. Michael was holding his granddaughter, smiling with the pride of a grandfather who thought he’d had something to do with her creation.
“Go wait for me in the hayloft,” Robbie whispered, placing his hand on Catherine’s backside and giving her a push. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
Catherine pretended she didn’t see her new in-laws and quickly ran toward the barn.
She stopped just inside the door to let her eyes adjust to the dimness and then walked down to Sprocket’s stall and pulled a carrot out of her pocket. “Here, big boy,” she said, letting him bite off a large piece. “I stole this for you before it made it to the platter.”
“Whose wedding are you celebrating, Cathy?”
Catherine spun around with a gasp and found herself facing Ron, who was standing in the doorway of the tack room. “What are you doing here?”
“Word on the street is you invited me here,” he said, stepping into the aisle, placing himself between her and the barn door. “But I don’t think it’s because you missed me. If you did, you would have been waiting at home when I got out.”
Catherine tucked her hands behind her back and touched her thumb to her wedding band. “The celebration outside is for me. I was married yesterday.”
Ron’s face darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides as he took a step forward. “Then why did you put the word out you wanted to see me?”
She untucked her hands and crossed her arms under her breasts, inconspicuously looking around the barn for a rake or shovel or anything else that would work as a weapon. “I thought you might like to see your children,” she said, walking to the center of the aisle while keeping her distance from him. “One last time before getting out of our lives for good.”
He matched her move with one of his own. “How kind of you,” he sneered, stepping between her and the shovel leaning against the wall. “Do you have any idea what prison is like for a cop?” he asked, his voice pitched low in a tone Catherine recognized as the first stage of the coming tantrum. “I had to fight for my life.”
Unable to stop herself, she smiled at him. “Welcome to my world, Ron. I spent six years fighting for my life.”
Catherine watched his rage kick up another notch, and her smile widened. She relaxed her arms at her sides. “Do you want to see your kids or not? Because I need to get back to my husband.”
He lunged probably before he even realized he was going to. But Catherine was ready and feinted to the right, toward freedom, but then darted to the left and grabbed the shovel. By the time Ron had twisted toward her, she had her grip balanced and the shovel handle moving toward his shoulder.
She pushed her right hand forward with all her might, using her body as a pivot point.
Ron reacted just as Robbie had said he would, and Catherine used the momentum of his defensive block to follow through with an upper cut to his jaw.
Ron dropped like a stone, his wide, surprised eyes turning glassy, then dazed, and then closing completely as his body hit the concrete floor with such a painful-sounding thud that Catherine couldn’t stop herself from wincing.
Her sympathy, however, lasted less than a second.
Laughing chatter came from the rafters of the barn, and Catherine looked up and saw Mary.
“Don’t you dare laugh!” she snapped. “Violence is not supposed to feel good.”
Mary glided down and landed on Ron’s chest. She gave him a nasty peck on his cheek, drawing blood, and then hopped off and walked down the aisle toward the barn door.
