"Well now you've gone and done it," she scolded herself as she watched the last of the dishes she had thrown crash to smithereens and bounce off the wall. Her stomach agreed, growling in protest. "Wasted a perfectly good breakfast on that... that... barbarian!"
Mara continued to mutter to herself, the litany unending as she enumerated all the reasons why she was justifiably angry with one ... arrogant, uncouthful, despicable Neanderthal!
"First he marries me *without* my knowledge *or* consent and by proxy, then he burns my bottom until it's... it's..." She twisted to the side to check the damage and shrieked when she realized the mass of purple and black splotches was her bottom cheeks.
"You pig!" she shouted as the ice pack hit the door Caleb had escaped through. "You... you... bullying son of a buck toothed baboon!"
Propelled by her anger, she ignored the throbbing pain in her bottom, grabbed the empty breakfast tray and leaped toward the door. Opening it with a snap, she startled Caleb by throwing it at his head and shouted that he was a baboon butthead and the son of a whore and that she hated him. His reflexes were good; he ducked and narrowly missed being hit. Before he could reply to her outburst, she was back in the bedroom with the door slammed shut behind her.
The taste of bile was heavy on the back of her tongue as adrenaline surged, her body suddenly weak. The events of the last few hours finally hit home, consuming her as she slipped to the floor.
She was a child again, her father drunk and snoring in his old leather chair, oblivious to the presence of his young motherless child. He had ignored her as he always did when he came home three sheets to the wind, pushing her away when she tried to help him take his coat off, shoving her away from him when she sought a hug, some reassurance that she was important in his life. She backed away from him... the strong fumes from her father's breath and his rejection... she was nothing to him. He proved that to her time and again.
Childhood habits... the grownup Mara fell back into the pattern of comforting herself, wrapping her arms around her body... rocking.
I'm married... married... married... Ohgodohgodohgod! I'm married. And he's... he's mean! A mean man... he spanked me! He... beat me black and blue and... and... I can't live like that. I can't. I can't! If he touches me like a man touches a woman... wants sex from me... Oh God! If he takes me the way he spanked me... rough... hard. He'll kill me! Have to get away... before he kills me.
Lost in thought, she didn't hear him enter the room, didn't realize he was there until his arms were around her. He picked her up off the floor, his soft murmurs meant to sooth her as one arm held her close to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing her back.
Caleb had been startled when Mara opened the door and snapped at him and he made the decision then and there to take her in hand, cut her tantrum off with a curt word and try to get back to square one. The facts were indisputable; they were married and by all that was holy, she was going to accept that fact and they were going to move on. But when he saw her on the floor... rocking... in the chaotic mess of broken china and food debris... the stones surrounding his heart began to crumble.
He had wanted her for a long time, wanted her by his side, wanted her in his bed, wanted her because... because he wanted her. Affection wasn't in the equation though it would be welcome. He was looking for companionship, not love, damn it! Now, holding her on his lap, her head on his chest, a small fist curled under her chin... her angry words rang in his ears. Son of a buck toothed baboon? Son of a whore? Her epithets tickled his funny bone; the visual she presented conjuring an image of a well-endowed, red-ass baboon with buck teeth, a wicked smile and its legs spread wide in invitation for any and all male takers... Laughter bubbled up as he pictured the face of his sainted mother and what she would think of all this if she were still alive.
She'd love you, Mara Stevenson Hollis. She'd love your fiery temper and your strong will. She'd love that you're giving me a run for my money and she'd laugh while she watched me try to tame you and just so you know... I *will* tame you. She'd love you and embrace you as her own.
Mara felt the rumble of his laughter and peeked up at him through her lashes. Caleb looked directly into her face, still chuckling at her words. He's laughing? At me? Oh God! He's demented, too!
"You hungry?" he asked, unable to suppress his grin. At her hesitant nod, he admonished her. "I'll order breakfast again," he paused, "but if you don't have any intention of eating it this time..." He let the words sink in. "I'll forget I spanked you raw and do it again - harder this time. Understand?"
She nodded. She'd let the son of a whore feed her; she had to conserve energy. It would take all her strength to do what needed to be done next.
Caleb arched a brow at her easy compliance but hoped she took him seriously. He didn't want to spank her again any time soon. But she sure felt good in his arms... She was disheveled from her tantrum - torn clothing, hair a riot of tangled curls, her face smudged from tears and a dab of maple syrup that had landed near the corner of an eye. Without thought, he cupped her cheek with a gentle hand and thumbed the spot, his eyes watching hers as he touched her.
She took a short sharp breath. He took a longer one and bent his head to meet her mouth.
Her lips parted... his lips warm on hers... their discord momentarily forgotten as their mouths touched... melded... breaths escaping as he prolonged the kiss.
Mara yielded. His arms were warm around her, warm and safe and... his mouth was gentle on her own. She wanted more but Caleb wanted more than kisses.
His arms tightened around her, his need for her growing, their altercation mere prelude to more promising concourse... sweeter dialogue - the dialogue between a man and a woman newly wed and...
Jesus! I need to get a grip, he thought as her soft sweet body sang harmony with his own. Got to move a little slower; we've got a lifetime ahead of us... don't want to frighten her.
"Mara," he murmured, lips seeking the sweet spot behind her ears, his hands roaming her back, his body desperate for more. "Mara, I want you so badly. I regret the harsh spanking... I was angry. I should have given you some time. I..."
She caught herself in time... watched her hand snake around his neck, yanked it back as if on fire... Breasts heaving, she forced air into her lungs, mentally counting 1...2...3... breathing in... 4...5...6... breathing out... 7...8...9... willing her body to calm. He's a pig! she reminded herself ... and Sweet Jesus! I want him between my thighs!
Her soft moan didn't escape his notice and he mistook it for lust, his hands roaming further, taking liberties. "Mara..." he hummed, turning her onto her back, his hand slipping under her torn skirt, lifting it. Kisses followed his hand, his other hand unbuckling his belt, his need for her straining against the fabric of his pants. "Help me, sweets. I need you," he groaned.
Survival mode... one of those things that just happens. Fight or flight were her only two choices. Her unwanted, unasked for bridegroom hovered over her, his body bigger... stronger than hers. "Flight" was put on the back burner; "fight" took over. Physical fighting was out of the question, but there was more than one way to fight.
She helped him undress... her fingers swiftly unbuttoning his shirt, yanking it from his pants as his belt loosened... his urgent words encouraging her to hasten the process. His hands made short shrift of her tattered dress while hers roamed over his chest then slipped over his hips, pulling his trousers and shorts down with her eager hands. With his hand cupped around one full round breast and his mouth on the other... she inched her way toward the edge of the bed.
His head dipped lower, his need for her a living, breathing necessity. "Mara," his voice echoing the need his body craved. "Mara, you are so sweet, so..."
His words faded as her arm stretched down, her fingers grasping the empty coffee carafe, lifting it... hurling it... hitting him on the back of the head... his grunt of pain... his body suddenly still and heavy sprawled on top of her.
"Thought you could marry me without my knowledge? Without my consent?" she hissed at the silent man. "Thought you could spank me and I wouldn't take revenge? Think again, macho man!"
His breath was no longer labored as she struggled to get out from under him, his eyes still closed and his body relaxed. She needed to leave before he woke and did something she would regret ... like spank me again. The man's a heathen! He's a... I have to get away before I fall for his line, before I start to believe he could care for me... Grabbing what was left of her dress, she slipped it on and taking his shirt, covered herself with the length of it.
Freedom was just beyond the bedroom door but she didn't want to underestimate the big man sprawled on the bed. Thinking quickly, she tore the telephone from the wall and took it with her as she left him lying there. A chair under the doorknob on the other side of the door would delay him further... She spared one last look, and placed the chair. Catch me if you can! and suddenly, she was home free.